Good As Gold

Last Friday, my friend Matt was hit and killed by a car while riding his bike near his hometown of Christchurch, New Zealand. I'd never actually met Matt in person. We'd been introduced by my friends Todd and Lucian, who spoke super highly of Matt and his design partner Tim for their insane talent for designing and building websites.

A few years ago, we worked with Matt and his business partner Tim to build the current website for OneClock. Over much time, and many, many Zoom calls and many emails—and if anyone's ever built a custom website, you know how much work it is—we became, I wanna say friends, but it feels strange to say you're friends with someone that you've never actually met in person. But I felt a unique connection and kinship with Matt.

I always loved talking with Matt. I loved his design sensibility. I loved his easy demeanor, his dry sense of humor, his impeccable follow-through on doing not only what he says he's gonna do, but also delivering above and beyond, and always being even and balanced and just so effortlessly cool. I always thought that if Matt and I ever lived in the same place that we'd be buddies. He likes to ride bikes. He loves art and design and architecture and simplicity. We laugh at the same stuff. And we always just had a really easy time talking, not about just work, but just about life and all.

These sudden events can be so destabilizing. Of course, it’s a reminder of the fragility of life and the fact that any of us can be erased pretty much any day, whether it be by getting hit by a car, bus, lightning, bullet, or some other unfortunate circumstance. But Matt's death is also a reminder that everyone has these sprawling, complex lives, and we are only able to understand a fraction of them. I have been thinking about this nonstop since Friday — how tenuous and fragile and impossibly, vastly unknowable life can feel. There’s just not enough time.

The time I spent talking with Matt could be measured in hours. And now that he's gone, I wish there was a way to know him better. I learned that Matt had built a site dedicated to the modern architecture of Christchurch. As I sat looking through the images and reading his words, which true to Matt's style were few, but well chosen, I did feel like I got to know him better.

It's unclear if all the photos are his, but whether or not he shot the images himself, it was clearly meaningful to him. So there's something beautiful in that, getting to know someone through not just conversation, but to see through their eyes, to understand what they care about, and to get to know them more deeply this way. I can only hope that the same holds true for my work when I’m gone. 

I also found this beautiful story and photo essay featuring Matt and has family in their home. But it physically hurts for me to look at the photos of Matt with his wife, driving his vintage BMW, walking with his son. 

I'll miss you, Matt. A lot of people will miss you. I hope that wherever you are, that you are, as you used to say so many times, “good as gold.”