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A man or boy about Conn's height and weight in a ski mask and down jacket approached the vice principal and said, Mr. Neil, I have something for you. Then he thrust a knife into him, into his tender lower belly. To be stabbed could be seen as a kind of crude intimacy. Of all places to pierce, the man in the ski mask chose his target carefully. This wound would linger.

It was January, 1978, in the west coast municipality of Saanich: in the teachers' parking lot in front of Mt. Work Senior Secondary, the late afternoon sun tinted the concrete block walls with a faint amber – the wooden bicycle racks and silver metal fences were drawn with a bold, expressive palate, the shadows grown charcoal in the corners and crevices. It was still ugly but it was almost beautiful. The back wall of the private sports club arena next door was covered in graffiti, in contrast to the school’s continually sand blasted, silenced walls. The Day-Glo initials and clever messages were pumped by the pre-dusk lens-happy light. And of course there was the blood.

That morning Conn had had a heated argument with Mr. Neil in his office beside the library. He was on his own the rest of the day driving around the outskirts of the city, thinking about what Mr. Neil had said. So he had no alibi. When he heard the news the next day he waited for the police to call.

– from You Are Being Remembered.




This project hopes to foment a utopian conversation about the radical, anti-logic of hope, the organic and dynamic structures of nature & art, and the necessity of desire.





Q: who would be inducted into your Utopia Hall of Fame?