Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Rudi Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Malte Fabian Rauch
Where the Negative Holds Court
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media
K.A.
Hermal
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
I’ve always been fascinated by globes, which is why I photographed this very special example in 2011, and the FB...
Facebook’s algorithm has served up memories of my Turkish travels often enough, but now it’s taking countermeasures and suddenly presenting...
I sit in the lobby of a hotel in China where I am accommodated along with other guests of an...
I’m no longer very happy with Facebook. Recently the algorithm seems to be taking the platform into total despotism. And...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
Not on any Knowlede’s service this register in progress seeks accumulating entries of imagenables: names, objects, imaginations… singularities, that neither have to be thought nor upon which must be speculated.
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
J.G. Ballard’s self-declared ‘Immodest Proposal’ for a global war-alliance to exact the destruction of America demonstrates the provocatory zeal of his last fiction plans, as well as their enduring prescience. As Ballard emphasises several times in the World Versus America notebooks, he is utterly serious in his concerns and visions.
Although the Ballard estate declined permission for any images of pages from the World Versus America archival notebooks to accompany this essay, any member of the general public interested to do so can readily visit the British Library and view the notebooks in their entirety in the freely-accessible manuscripts collection there.
My language
English
Selected content
English
»Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.
Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs
marching. No, agallop: DELINE THE MARE.
Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since?
If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. BASTA! I will see
if I can see.
See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world
without end.«
James Joyce
Dire works on the bogus regime—not just of art—but endowed with wit, beauty and irresistible fetish character.