Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Hendrik Rohlf
Richard Prince (Book)
Discoteca Flaming Star
Ich erinnere mich… (Discoteca Flaming Star)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
Une Trinité de mémoire
Je me souviens de quelques lieux, de quelques parfums d’enfance. En Amérique du Sud, en Equateur, à...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
…rather alarms, to truth to arm her than enemies, and they have only this advantage to scape from being called ill things, that they are nothings…
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.
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
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.