Conversation #1: January 14th, 2025
This episode reminds us that life's most interesting conversations begin at the edges of our comfort zones. While we often resist stepping beyond familiar territory, our most profound growth happens when we make space for other people's stories.
Welcome to the first episode of On the Periphery. I’m Steven Cox, your host. Today, as it’s our first show, it’s just me, no guests, no interviews, just us.
I’m coming to you from my living room in North Vancouver, where I’ve now lived for over fifteen years. As I sit here, the winter rain taps gently on the roof of our under-insulated house, a common winter white noise that I very much associate with home, grounding me in this place.
Like many of you, the pandemic reshaped my relationship with the spaces I inhabit. It forced me out of our office and planted me firmly in my residential neighbourhood, transforming what was once a simple home base into something much deeper—a sanctuary, a hub for creativity, and on some of my bad days, a bit of prison.
Working from home has given me incredible freedom: no commutes, more time with my family, and the chance to craft my environment exactly how I need it to be.
But for all its benefits, it has also brought challenges. Isolation creeps in when your primary interactions are through screens. Without the energy of a shared workspace, feelings of obsolescence can take hold, as it sometimes feels that creating in solitude lacks the same urgency or value.
I realize that I am not just missing collaboration, I am missing connection. That search for connection has become a driving force in my life, and a catalyst for this series. It’s about redefining how to engage with the world in meaningful ways—professionally, personally and creatively.
At the same time, midlife has quietly slipped into view. It’s a time of paradox: curiosity reignites, yet the awareness of time’s passage sharpens. There’s this pull—to create, to contribute in new ways, and to lean into a quieter, deeper wisdom that doesn’t always get airtime in a culture chasing the next shiny thing.
That’s where On the Periphery comes in. This series is about standing on the edges—of a place, a career, a perspective, but still deeply engaged with the world.
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The idea for this series was born out of my own journey to the edge. I wanted a place to explore ideas, people, and movements living on the margins, both literally and metaphorically. Often, it’s on the outskirts where true innovation takes shape, where the future begins to unfold, hazy and imperfect.
In every field, design, technology, social change, breakthroughs rarely come from the center. They come from those bold enough to step outside the norm, to challenge what’s possible.
With On the Periphery, I’m not chasing trends. I’m searching for the “B-sides”, those stories that are raw, unconventional, or simply overlooked. This series is an invitation to stay curious about the ideas shaping our world quietly, away from the spotlight.
This role, whether as a host, a curator, or a connector, isn’t new for me. It’s something I’ve always gravitated toward. I suppose you could say I’ve been on hiatus, though calling it a decade-long sabbatical feels more accurate. It’s been ten years since we wrapped up the Vancouver edition of Pecha Kucha Night, the global phenomenon built around a unique format: 20 slides, each shown for just 20 seconds.
From 2008 to 2015, we produced 38 consecutive sold-out events. For a while, Pecha Kucha Vancouver wasn’t just an event; it was the event, the hottest ticket in town, bringing together an eclectic mix of voices, ideas, and perspectives. Giving it up wasn’t easy, but it had grown far beyond what we imagined. What started as a side-of-the-desk passion project eventually turned into a kind of monster. It was incredibly rewarding in every way, except financially.
In the real world, I run a creative agency with my wife called Cause+Affect. Pecha Kucha was growing to the point that I was struggling to keep up with the agency and ended up choosing it and leaving the event series behind.
Now, with this new series in mind, I recently found myself revisiting those years, going back through the speakers and their talks. Maybe I was looking for inspiration, maybe for ideas, or maybe just to relive the glory of it all. What I discovered surprised me.
Since Pecha Kucha Vancouver began in 2008, no fewer than nine men who graced our stage have passed away. Nine incredible individuals, mentors, creators, leaders, whose voices are no longer with us. Their loss hit me harder than I expected. These were men who had shaped me, directly or indirectly, through their work, their ideas, and their presence.
It was a sobering realization, but it also felt like a call to action: to reflect on their legacies and the impact they had, and to create a space where their stories—and the lessons they imparted, can live on.
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Starting a new content series by talking about death is probably unconventional, maybe even a little uncomfortable. But I’ve been so struck by the collective loss of these incredible individuals that it felt like the only place to begin.
As I do, I want to acknowledge that I’ve been deeply shaped by many extraordinary women in my life, partners, collaborators, and friends. Perhaps even more than men, and maybe that has something to do with the poignancy of this topic for me personally.
In particular, I’ve been reflecting on the relationships among men and the stories we don’t always share. If I’m honest, this has been a complicated journey for me, loneliness, connection, and vulnerability often weave through these stories in ways that aren’t always easy to navigate.
Growing up, I didn’t hear men talk about these things. Vulnerability wasn’t part of the vocabulary. It wasn’t until my late 20s, when a mentor pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to have all the answers,” that I realized how much I’d been missing. That single conversation changed me. It reframed mentorship—not as simply giving advice or solving problems, but as creating space for honesty and trust.
It also taught me something I didn’t understand before: mentorship is a two-way street. Both the mentor and the mentee grow, learn, and gain something deeply rewarding from the relationship. It’s not just about passing down wisdom, it’s about forging a connection that enriches both lives.
With that impact in mind, I want to honor the lives we’ve lost by revisiting the stories and legacies of these remarkable men.
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Jim Green passed away in February of 2012. Quite simply, he was a force of nature—one of Vancouver’s most influential champions for social justice. He was equally comfortable in council chambers as he was on the streets, fighting on behalf of equity-seeking communities around topics like affordable housing and accessible education.
Hours before his death, Jim was awarded the Freedom of the City, Vancouver’s highest civic honour. It’s an award reserved for individuals who have made exceptional contributions to the city’s social, cultural, or political fabric.
When we first launched Pecha Kucha Night, Jim agreed to speak without hesitation and was our first speaker at our first event. After the event, he sent me a note. It read: “Thanks Cox’s. Fun night, stupid name…..Jim
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Brian Hendricks passed away in September of 2014. He spoke at our 7th volume.
While Brian’s name might not have been widely known in Vancouver, to his Film and Writing students at UVic, he was nothing short of legendary. He shaped countless lives, including mine, by letting us into his own personal love for the art of storytelling.
Even in the face of terminal illness, Brian turned his final chapter into a work of art. He documented his journey in a deeply personal and profoundly moving video series titled The Beauty of Certainty, directed by his close friend, Brick Blair. The series is a reflection on life, loss, and what it means to face the unknown with grace and honesty.
There’s a moment in the series that has stayed with me. Brian stands on a dock at night—likely in the harbor of Victoria or Vancouver, his silhouette framed by darkness and the soft lapping of water. In that quiet moment, he says:
"I am setting sail now, heading into the wild unknown. I hope I’m leaving things behind that are useful to those who will take this journey themselves someday.”
It’s a statement that feels like a gift—one final offering to those who would follow in his footsteps.
If you or someone you know is navigating the reality of death, I would encourage you to look up The Beauty of Certainty. It’s a testament to the grace and beauty that can emerge even in the hardest of times.
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Bing Thom passed away in October of 2016. He spoke at our 10th voume.
A widely celebrated architect, Bing was renowned not just for his remarkable designs but for his humility and his ability to make the extraordinary feel accessible. I’ll never forget travelling to London with him for an exhibition we were both working on. Standing together in the passport line at Heathrow, I felt like the walking dead, while Bing, was spry and alert, casually munching on a banana.
I asked if he’d slept at all. He deadpanned, “I just meditated.” ……. “You meditated for eight hours, I asked?” Without missing a beat, he replied, “Well, not the whole time. I had dinner.”
That was Bing—calm, grounded, and always a little ahead of the rest of us.
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Judson Beaumont passed away in February of 2020. He spoke at our 7th volume.
A designer unlike any other, Judson created furniture that sparked joy and straddled the line between high art and grassroots shenanigans. I’ll never forget seeing one of his iconic pieces—a chest of drawers that seemed to dance straight out of a cartoon. At first, I thought it was a joke. Honestly, when we first met, I didn’t fully appreciate his genius.
But over time, I realized Judson had a rare gift. He could authentically hold court at the Milan Furniture Fair just as effortlessly as he could at the East Van Culture Crawl. His playful creativity and genuine spirit left an indelible mark on the Vancouver design community.
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Andrew Morrison passed away in October of 2021. He spoke at our 8th volume.
The co-founder of Scout Magazine and a champion of Vancouver’s local food culture, Andrew was a force of originality and community. He was an ally, a confidante and most importantly a friend. He was one of the few I trusted with the hosting duties of Pecha Kucha giving him the reigns for a night featuring the amazing restauranteaurs of Vancouver.
His own talk was one of my dearest memories. It ended with these words.
"Seek out originality. Support those who stick their necks out. Fuck chains, man. Fuck Chains. Fuck Earls. Eat independent. The best cities are made by those who show up for it.”
Man, do I miss that guy.
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Ken Lyotier passed away in November of 2021. He spoke at our 22nd volume.
A social innovator, Ken overcame poverty, addiction, and mental health challenges to transform Vancouver’s recycling industry. Through his work as a founder of United We Can, he brought dignity to marginalized communities and showed how social enterprise could drive meaningful change. When Ken spoke at Pecha Kucha, he illuminated the humanity of Vancouver’s binners, stripping away stigma and demonstrating the immense value of their contributions. Ken’s legacy is one of resilience and an unwavering commitment to uplifting others.
I’ll never forget standing alongside Ken in Vancouver’s Hosting Pavilion during the 2010 Olympic Games. We were there to meet the Governor General, and both of us felt incredibly out of place. My company had designed the exhibition, and Ken, as an Olympic flag bearer, was decked out head-to-toe in Olympic gear.
In that moment, it struck me: the city had chosen Ken—to introduce our Governor General to Vancouver. It was a profound statement about who we are as a city and the kind of legacy Ken left behind.
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Gair Williamson passed away in October of 2023. He spoke at our 10th volume.
An architect whose thoughtful designs were sprinkled throughout Gastown and East Vancouver, Gair was known for his elegance and rugged charm. I’ll always remember him holding court at Gastown’s Irish Heather or the Keefer Bar, surrounded by young architects eager to soak up his stories.
I will always remember his gait. Charging through the streets of Gastown, his long black trench coat blowing in the wind behind him.
Gair’s work and mentorship have shaped more of Vancouver’s landscape than most people realize.
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Norman Armour passed away in November of 2023. He spoke at our 24th volume.
I’m not sure if he was officially the founder of the PUSH Festival, but he was undeniably synonymous with it. Norman was a visionary who brought avant-garde art to Vancouver and elevated the city’s cultural scene. His ability to champion bold, experimental work gave artists and audiences alike the courage to think differently. His influence extended far beyond Vancouver, leaving an irreplaceable void in the arts community.
Norman actually died twice, once quite literally, during a performance he so cherished. He suffered a cardiac event while in the audience, and thanks to the quick action of a friend, he was brought back to life. It was as if the universe wasn’t quite ready to let him go, and in true Norman fashion, even that experience became part of his incredible story.
His second passing, though final, leaves us with a legacy of daring, imagination, and an unwavering belief in the power of art to challenge and transform.
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Alden Habacon recently passed away in December of 2024. He spoke at our 8th volume.
The OG of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, Alden was bringing diverse folks together and having difficult conversations long before the world decided to mandate it. He rocked bow ties and a pretty perfect haircut and spoke softly but very influentially.
My favourite line from his talk back in 2009 was: Multi-Culturalism has alot of bugs, and not everyone is ready for the update.
We have come along way since then in Vancouver. Still lots to go, but Alden’s impact is obvious.
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These men, each remarkable in their own right, left behind legacies that extended far beyond their individual accomplishments. Through their creativity, generosity, and courage, they shaped the world around them and inspired those fortunate enough to know them. Their stories remind us that true impact comes not just from what we build, but from how we connect, mentor, and lift others along the way.
I also want to acknowledge that with hundreds of speakers over the years, it’s very possible I’ve missed someone. If there’s a passing I’m not aware of, please don’t hold that against me. I also want to be clear—this is not about assigning importance or value to one loss over another. So many remarkable people have passed, and each loss is deeply felt in its own way. This particular group, however, represents a part of my life—a shared moment of connection and creativity—and now, they are gone.
The bridge has been broken. The one that connects us across generations, cultures, experiences, and perspectives. It’s how wisdom travels, not just through the sharing of expertise but through the modelling of empathy, integrity, and purpose.
Middle age has a way of sharpening your focus, making you ask hard questions: What have I built? What will I leave behind? For me, these questions aren’t just about career milestones or professional accolades. They’re about the relationships I’ve nurtured, the impact I’ve had on others, and the contributions I’ve made to something bigger than myself.
The men I’ve reflected on today taught me many things and almost all of it was unintentional. This realization feels more urgent than ever in a time when polarization and isolation have become so prevalent. Whether it’s the physical distance created by remote work, the emotional disconnection of online interactions, or the societal pressures to always "move forward," many of us are grappling with a sense of being unmoored.
Mentorship offers a counterbalance, a reminder that we are interconnected, that our lives are shaped not just by our individual efforts but by the wisdom, generosity, and support of others.
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With On the Periphery, I want to honour the legacies of those who’ve inspired me, but more than that, I want to create a space to explore how we can carry those values forward. How can we mentor and be mentored in ways that are authentic, meaningful, and impactful? How can we ensure that the stories, lessons, and values that shaped us don’t end with us?
This is what drives me: the belief that connection, creativity, and purpose are not just personal pursuits but collective endeavours. When we share our stories, our wisdom, and our time, we help shape a culture that values not just achievement but humanity.
Looking ahead, each episode of On the Periphery will feature a guest—someone with a unique perspective, story, or expertise. Our conversation will be interwoven with a larger narrative that I’ll craft, connecting their insights to broader themes and ideas. I’m excited to bring you a lineup of fascinating individuals, each offering something thought-provoking, inspiring, or unexpected. Lots of interesting folks are coming your way, and I can’t wait to share these journeys with you.
So thank you for joining me on this journey. Let’s keep exploring the edges together, finding the unexpected, and, in the process, rediscovering what it means to live a connected, creative, and meaningful life.
I’m Steven Cox, and this is On the Periphery.