Most video is forgettable. Yours doesn't have to be.

It was 2020. The world went remote overnight, and millions of people discovered two things simultaneously: that they could work from anywhere, and that most video calls were a slow death of making eye contact with a thumbnail of themselves.

We built mmhmm—yes, that's what we called it—with a single conviction in mind: that a video call should feel as natural as a conversation, not as formal as a deposition. It was playful, a little strange, and immediately recognizable to anyone who'd ever felt their personality evacuate the moment they clicked "join meeting." People shared it. Then more people shared it.

We've evolved considerably since then, a different name, a broader ambition, but the original instinct hasn't changed at all.

Distributed teams, online education, the creator economy, enterprise sales—nearly every professional context now runs, at least in part, on video. Yet for most people, being on camera still carries a low-grade dread: clunky setups, flat delivery, recordings that take too long to make and even longer to watch. It's a poor use of a genuinely powerful medium, and the gap between what video could be and what it usually is is exactly where we choose to build.

This isn't a technical problem. It's a design failure, and we take that personally. Airtime is a toolkit for how people actually work on video today—live and async, 1:1 and broadcast, polished and off-the-cuff. The fundamentals are simple: you have something to say, someone needs to receive it, and everything in between either helps or gets in the way.