Good bye, Om Malik

Intro

I was shocked to find out yesterday about the death of Om Malik. I’ve admired him and his work for my entire adult life, and I’ve had the fortune in the last few years of getting to know him personally.

I first heard of him when he was running GigaOm. It was my window into Silicon Valley when I was going to school far away in New York City. Om continued to provide a considered view into the industry as it attracted more money and power. His writing shaped how I’ve thought about my own writing.

Leica CL · 56mm · f/2.8 · 1/500 · ISO 100

On writing

What made Om and his approach to writing so special was that he understood the details in design, technology, fashion, and the systems, in addition to the power and money that shaped them. He was a true critic, pointing out when a company betrayed their mission or, worse, when it seemed to have none at all.

Anil Dash, in his post about Om, pointed out how he was critical of Facebook’s Internet.org. Mind you, this was a time when everyone in the Valley was enthusiastic about Facebook. And I clearly remember its employees and its Disneyland-like campus exuded this air that they could do no harm.

He was able to cut through all the PR noise, boosterism, doomerism, etc., to get to the heart of ideas. Every time an upswell of a new movement or idea in Silicon Valley appeared, I turned to his writing to make sense of it. As he wrote:

Writing, in many ways, allows me to think and evaluate the world, work out my thesis and ideas. Writing and rewriting, collating, collecting, curating and conversing — that’s my process.

Writing was the way he made sense of the world and helped us all make sense of it as well.

Meeting a hero

For most of my life, Om and I were mostly strangers to each other. And then I noticed a few times that he posted about my work, such as the piece about the Apple Watch and its many faces.

And then one day, like he did with many others in the industry, he DM’d me and suggested we meet up for coffee. On a clear summer day, I walked up to Golden Goat, a coffee shop that opened when I was working on Carrot Fertility just a block away.

I grew to love that coffee shop and went to it every several days until the pandemic shut it and our office down. So being there with Om felt full circle. We walked over to South Park, where, again, I had spent many mornings and afternoons chatting with teammates, potential hires, mentors.

We spoke for hours, getting to know each other, our viewpoints, poking curiously at the things we found intriguing about each other’s work. He asked me about how I was lighting my photographs for zen of things. I asked him why his photos were so minimal.

He encouraged me to keep writing and challenged me to up my game. And then I said bye to him, gave him a hug, and went off to my next activity for the day.

Mortality

While Om’s passing away was a surprise, he probably saw it coming. He had a heart attack in 2007, and ever since, he celebrated each subsequent year as his rebirthday, writing a post on his blog looking back on the year before.

One of my favorites is the one from late 2024, where he wrote the story of the stent, the technology that allowed him to continue on. The last thing he wrote on the blog was titled “Taking a Few Days Off”, which he signed off with “Be well.” Seems as if he was aware that the end could be near.

The beauty in Om’s writing is that it never felt like he stuck to a single beat. He would be writing about fashion, and watches, and pens, and then the next day criticizing some of the most powerful in the technology industry.

Ever since that heart attack, he was not shy to touch on the topic of mortality. It was clear that he thought about it often. He wrote:

Confronting mortality makes you ask some fundamental questions of yourself and your relationships. It makes you a lot more honest with yourself. It forces you to say no more often, for you know the fleeting nature of life, the minuscule time we have on the planet and what matters is how we choose to spend it.

Reading this again stings. You see, Om and I had been chatting since that first meeting over text, and I bumped into him again near South Park.

We’d been meaning to get coffee again, but I dropped the ball, letting life get in the way, and now I’ll never be able to see him and his smile, to hear his words of encouragement, or to watch as almost every passerby, including their dog, stopped to say hi as we sat on that park bench in South Park.

I have a beautiful notebook he gave me. I never wrote in it, wanting to protect its pristine condition. But I unwrapped it today, intending to write and draw in it with the care that Om put into all of us and his work.

Om is unfortunately not the first friend I have lost whom I’ve regretted not spending more time with, whom I’ve regretted not writing to and saying how much they have meant to me and how they have changed my life. I know that death will come for all of us, and yet I still struggle with changing the way I connect with people to suit that reality.

Enjoy his work

Om may be gone, but fortunately, because of the nature of his work, his writing and his presence in other people’s work still exist on the internet all over. I’d recommend you go and read On My Om, his little corner of the web. Much of it is timeless.

Go see his photos at Photos by Om. If you haven’t already, listen to his appearances on Full Stack Whatever (1) (2). I just listened to both episodes again yesterday and today. His views on technology, artificial intelligence, and the art of photography still ring true.

And finally, watch his appearance on Kevin Rose’s Foundation from 13 years ago. He recounts a lot of his journey and gives some fantastic advice at the end.

What others have written

Om Malik was many things to many people — a friend, a mentor, a coach, a guide, a critic. His presence will be sorely missed, and many others have written about what he did for them and how they admire him today:

• Anil Dash wrote how he bravely spoke truth to power.
• Ben Clymer described how he always wanted the best for others.
• Daniel Agee detailed how he influenced the Glass photography community.
• Matt Mullenweg wrote on, among other things, how he was so early to everything.
• Naveen Selvadurai reminisced lovingly on their friendship.
• Ryan Merket recounted his journey in Silicon Valley and how its inhabitants will remember him.
• Tony Conrad wrote about how he made every effort to build connections with others.
• There is his last post on his blog announcing his death, with hundreds of comments recounting stories of Om.
• A Hacker News thread lists many other personal stories.

We will all miss you, Om. I hope I’ll see you on the other side.