THE BRIEF
IAN PEIKON · CAJAL CO-FOUNDER & CO-CEO · SEATTLELUX CAPITAL VENTURE PARTNER · DUKE + COLD SPRING HARBORFROM ENGINEERING TO COMPANY BUILDING

People / Founders / The working life

Ian Peikon and the useful art of leaving your department

An engineer from Long Island became a scientist, a company founder and a venture partner. The thread through Ian Peikon’s career is a willingness to learn from people who work differently.

Ian Peikon found something to like in the absence of a department. At Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, the engineer from Duke could talk to scientists whose work belonged to quite different disciplines. His description of the place included seminars, volleyball games, and wine and cheese. The research conversation apparently had several venues, and a respectable chance of being interrupted by a ball.

That preference offers a way into a career with several changes of setting: Duke, Cold Spring Harbor, Google X, Kallyope, Lux Capital and Cajal. Peikon is now co-founder and co-CEO of Cajal Therapeutics in Seattle. The titles have become more senior. The underlying question remains interesting: what can you build when the person beside you knows something you do not?

His biography is full of collaborations. Read it through those relationships and the moves become easier to follow. Engineering led to research. Research led to early company building. Company building brought him into venture capital and then another founding team. Each setting supplied a new set of colleagues and a different scale of responsibility.

The pleasure of a porous laboratory

In his student reflections, Peikon chose an unusual institutional virtue to celebrate: “My favorite thing about Cold Spring Harbor Labs is the lack of specific research departments.” He described researchers encountering ideas from other fields and feeling free to join conversations. The attraction was the everyday availability of people who could change the direction of a question.

There is a practical point inside that student enthusiasm. A department helps people find their colleagues; it can also make a field feel like a separate address. Peikon enjoyed an environment where a useful conversation did not require a formal introduction between academic territories. The wine and cheese were pleasant details. The access was the substance.

His account gives collaboration an ordinary setting. Nobody has to arrange a grand summit to exchange an idea. A seminar or a game can put people together long enough for curiosity to do its work. That is a modest observation, but it matters in a career that repeatedly involves bringing different kinds of expertise into the same organization.

“My favorite thing about Cold Spring Harbor Labs is the lack of specific research departments.”

Ian Peikon, reflecting on student life

An engineer learns a second language

Peikon’s route began on Long Island, where he attended Bethpage High School. He earned a BSE in Biomedical Engineering from Duke University and arrived at Cold Spring Harbor in 2009. Engineering supplied a starting point. The doctoral program asked him to learn another discipline closely enough to make useful things within it.

In recalling that transition, he described himself as “an engineer who barely knew what a gene was.” The phrase is memorable because it lowers the ceremonial temperature of a scientific biography. Here is someone with a technical education admitting that, in the next room, he needed help with the basics. He credited colleagues who took time to explain.

Anthony Zador, his doctoral mentor, had a more mischievous description of the ideas Peikon brought to the lab: “Some are brilliant, some are crazy, but all are fun.” Taken together, the two comments suggest a productive arrangement. There was room to ask elementary questions and room to propose an odd approach. Both require colleagues willing to stay in the conversation.

The move into biology did not erase his engineering background. It gave that background new work to do. A person trained to build and troubleshoot could now bring those habits to questions raised by researchers with different training. Peikon’s later career makes that combination especially useful to keep in view.

The work before the awards

His thesis, dated September 26, 2014, carried the title Encoding of neural circuit information into DNA. It is a technical title with a clear engineering proposition inside it: represent information in another form so that it can be read using a different set of tools. The title alone shows how far he had travelled from the beginner he later described.

The research was collaborative. Peikon’s publication record includes work with Diana Gizatullina and Anthony Zador on cellular barcoding, and with Justus Kebschull and other colleagues on sequencing-based mapping. These papers put names beside the ideas. A method arrives through the work of several people, each contributing something that the final title cannot conveniently list.

Recognition followed. Peikon received the Harold M. Weintraub Graduate Student Award in 2015. He graduated from the Watson School that year, and in 2016 appeared on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list in science. Those are useful dates in the story. They record when work developed in a laboratory became visible to a wider audience.

Awards make a career easy to summarize. The thesis and the papers tell us more about its construction. They show a researcher working on methods, sharing authorship, and pursuing a problem across successive projects. The distinction matters when that researcher eventually begins building companies: the experience includes the slow work of making an idea usable.

2009Duke BSE; arrival at Cold Spring Harbor
2015PhD graduation; Weintraub award
2016Forbes science list recognition

A team becomes the next instrument

Google X came next in his early professional story. Peikon worked there as a hardware engineer before joining Kallyope, the New York company he helped start. By 2019, his title at Kallyope was Director of Platform Biology and Technology. He was working on the organization of technical expertise as well as the technical work itself.

Lux Capital’s biography describes him leading a team of molecular biologists, neuroscientists and data scientists. The composition is worth pausing over. A platform team needs people who can generate information, people who understand the scientific questions and people who can work with the resulting data. It gives the former student’s preference for crossing disciplines an organizational form.

There is a change of scale here. In a doctoral project, collaboration can help make a method work. In a company, that method has to fit into a continuing operation. People need to decide what to do next, which skills to add and how their separate work joins up. A founding role brings those decisions close to the science.

Peikon’s involvement in Kallyope is consequently an important part of the story. It places him in the early construction of a company, before the career description can be reduced to a senior title. The practical unit of work has expanded from an experiment to a team capable of carrying out many experiments.

Two years before the announcement

After leaving Kallyope in 2019, Peikon became an entrepreneur-in-residence at Lux Capital. Cajal was founded in 2020. Its public launch followed on November 29, 2022, with a $96 million Series A financing. At that announcement, he was the company’s co-founder and chief scientific officer. Andrew Dervan was co-founder and chief operating officer.

The gap between formation and announcement is part of the biography. A public launch gives a company a date readers can remember. The earlier period contains the work that makes the announcement possible: assembling people, developing an approach and building an operation. Peikon’s career had already given him experience with that quieter stage.

He helped bring together scientific co-founders Anthony Zador, Huda Zoghbi and Charles Zuker. Zador’s presence also carries an earlier relationship into the company story. The doctoral mentor and the former student appear again in a new setting, now among the people involved in forming an organization.

Cajal’s 2022 leadership photograph, with Ignacio Muñoz-Sanjuán on the left, Ian Peikon in the center and Andrew Dervan on the right
A company takes its group picture. From left: Ignacio Muñoz-Sanjuán, Ian Peikon and Andrew Dervan, in 2022. Photo: Cajal Neuroscience.

The photograph records the leadership at that moment. It also gives the financing headline some human proportions: people with different responsibilities, standing behind the same company. The number tells us about capital committed to the organization. It is the relationships around that number that explain Peikon’s place in the story.

November 2022 · company milestone$96 million

Cajal’s announced Series A financing. A company funding figure, separate from any founder’s personal finances.

The shared job in Seattle

Cajal’s current team page lists Peikon and Dervan as co-founders and co-chief executive officers. Peikon is also listed by Lux Capital as a venture partner. The present-day picture therefore includes both an operating role and a connection to early company formation through the investment firm.

The shared chief executive title adds another partnership to the biography. Readers need not imagine how the two divide a particular day to understand the basic fact: the company places both names in its top executive role. The pairing continues an association visible in the earlier launch, when their responsibilities carried different titles.

Seattle supplies the current setting. Peikon’s LinkedIn profile places him there, and Cajal’s office is in the city’s Eastlake area. His career has moved through university, laboratory, engineering organization, New York startup and Seattle company. The institutions change. The recurring task is making different skills useful together.

Passing the questions on

In October 2024, Peikon was announced among the speakers for the Future Neuro Founders Workshop, scheduled for two November sessions. The advertised topics included moving from academic work into entrepreneurship, building an early team and working with investors. These were questions his own career had repeatedly put in front of him.

A workshop is a fitting setting for this part of the story. Someone who once relied on colleagues to explain a new field now appears in a lineup intended to help other researchers consider company formation. The connection is simple and concrete: experience accumulated in one career becomes material for another person’s first decisions.

Peikon’s student account remains a useful place to end. He enjoyed being able to join a conversation, hear an unfamiliar idea and see people step beyond their own specialties. Years later, his professional life includes several organizations built around such encounters. There is room in that story for technical seriousness and a little sociability. Apparently, the cheese can stay.