About Mathew Moslow
Some people approach information like a consumer: absorbing, annotating, maybe underlining. Others come at it like a cartographer, redrawing the map as they go. He is firmly the latter.
By title, he’s a nursing student — midway through an intense pre-licensure program, fluent in the language of vitals, pharmacology, and patient care protocols. But that’s only the outer ring. Inside, there’s a deeper structure: web interfaces that mimic human thought, audio-reactive learning tools, clinical questions rewritten with surgical precision. His work doesn’t just serve a curriculum — it interrogates the form itself.
Design, for him, is not decoration. It’s infrastructure. And whether he’s coding a study tool that behaves like a bedside monitor or scripting scroll-timed animations that unfurl like chapters, the impulse is the same: make information breathe. Make it personal. Make it beautiful without asking for applause.
Yet he is not performative. There’s no hunger for spectacle here. His world, both digital and physical, is organized into concentric zones of comfort and control. The outer layer: cozy, communal, filled with blankets, dogs, and warmth. The inner sanctum: precise, quiet, hermetically his. A place where every object has a reason, and silence is not emptiness but space for thinking.
He works with the intensity of someone who knows what it means to overextend — and who’s learned to value the off-switch as much as the spark. His reset ritual is unceremonious but absolute: unadulterated sleep. Not curated wellness, not scrolling, not ambient podcasts. Just the clean, non-negotiable act of disappearing into stillness.
That honesty extends to his language. He is the type of person who keeps a personal blacklist of words he refuses to use. They mean too little while pretending to say too much. What remains is a voice that’s sharp but not cold, sincere but unpolished, occasionally irreverent, often exacting. You can trust it because it’s not trying to charm you — but it inevitably does.
That voice carries through his debut memoir, A Novel Divorce, now heading to press. It traces the end of his marriage and the long, layered life that led there, from youth through rupture. His second work, a novel with the working title Beyond the Reach of Time/Justice, tells the story of a nurse disinherited by his father — and the quiet, calculated plot that unfolds in Jamaica, where a colonial-era law offers a lethal loophole.
There’s something compelling about a mind like that. One that builds tools but also builds meaning. One that can parse the DSM and still make space for metaphor. One that doesn’t just juggle disciplines — it designs the architecture in which they can coexist.
He is, in the quietest way possible, building a world he would actually want to live in.
