Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Pierre Guyotat
Autoportrait
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
Beni Bischof
LISTMANIA: BIG BUGS
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
We are looking for relics of visions of the future in past image spaces, for the traces and signatures of something once imaginable and timelessly possible.
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
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.
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.