I launched InventGeek in May of 2004 as a creative outlet for myself. Just me, tinkering in my shop, wanting to document what I was building. I never expected anyone to find it, let alone care about what I was doing.
Then someone submitted my Mac G3 to P4 conversion to Slashdot. The article I’d written at 4AM—full of spelling errors and rough ideas—went viral. My server nearly melted. And suddenly I realized that there were thousands of people out there just like me who wanted to see projects that pushed boundaries, tried new things, and weren’t afraid to be imperfect.
Back in 2004, the DIY geek project space was wide open. There weren’t many people sharing this kind of content, and the ones who were became part of a tight-knit community. We were celebrating creativity and hands-on experimentation before “maker culture” was even a term. InventGeek flourished in that environment because we were doing something different—we were sharing projects that were rough, unrefined, and honest. The goal was never perfection. It was inspiration.
Over the years I’ve watched the DIY space evolve. Community sites monetized what used to be pure passion. Content aggregators gave projects their five minutes of fame. And while some of that growth has been great for the maker community, something got lost along the way. The rawness. The willingness to share something that isn’t quite finished. The encouragement to take what you see and make it better.
That’s what InventGeek has always been about. We don’t just want you to read our projects—we want you to expound on them. Take the concept, improve it, make it yours, and share what you learned. Some of our projects are rough. Some are just proof-of-concepts. That’s intentional. We’re giving you a framework to build from, not a finished product to consume.
InventGeek celebrates the creative powers of the geek. The people who see something that doesn’t exist yet and decide to make it real. The ones who take apart perfectly good electronics just to see how they work. Those who are willing to fail publicly because the lesson learned is worth more than protecting their ego. The mad scientists, the weekend warriors, the basement tinkerers—this site has always been for them.
Looking back now, InventGeek changed my life in ways I never imagined. It taught me that you don’t need permission to create, you don’t need to be perfect to share, and you don’t need credentials to inspire others. The skills I developed, the audience I built, and the doors that opened because of this site led to everything that followed—successful Kickstarters, multiple companies built and sold, and the financial freedom to pursue new ventures and give back through causes I care about.
These days InventGeek is mostly quiet. I’m always working on new projects and companies—that’s just who I am. I’ll post something here when there’s a project I want to share with the community, but my main energy is focused elsewhere now. And that’s okay. InventGeek served its purpose. It proved that one person with passion and a willingness to share could make an impact. It inspired thousands of people to start their own projects, build their own sites, and follow their own bliss.
The site will always be here as a resource and reminder that creativity doesn’t require perfection—it just requires the courage to start and the generosity to share.
So grab a soldering iron, fire up your 3D printer, or pull out whatever tools call to you. Build something. Break something. Learn from it. And then share what you discovered with others who are on the same journey.
That’s what this has always been about.
— Jared
