Most studios describe their privacy in a policy page. Ours is standing by the door in brass and velvet: a rope. It is not there to keep people out for the pleasure of it — it marks the exact line where your work stops being yours alone, and makes you cross it deliberately, carrying the frame yourself.
What stays behind the rope
Everything you generate, upload or transform lives in your private library, visible to you and no one else. There is no member directory, no social feed, no “recently created” rail. The studio’s systems are built so that privacy is not a setting you must remember to enable; it is the floor the room was built on.
What crossing the rope means
One action crosses it: publishing a still to the gallery, by hand, frame by frame. Not albums, not accounts, not defaults — a frame, chosen. And one tool never crosses at all: undress results have no publish path, by design, because consent paperwork covers a private library, not a public wall.
A rope is a humble piece of furniture doing serious work. Ours is the whole privacy philosophy, summarised in an object you can trip over.