I.V. 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
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
Beni Bischof
LISTMANIA: BIG BUGS
It may be due to the simple design of this dust jacket, which gives no indication of genre, and to...
The Nonexistent Giotto
A picture may announce the future not in the sense that it refers to any future events...
Although contemporaries attested Romantic qualities to François Gérard’s Belisar, it didn’t appeal to the arch-Romantic Delacroix: “The fortune of a...
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.