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
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Blixa Bargeld
LISTMANIA: ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."
2. At first you may feel embarrassed...
1. Ringo Starr
2. Mike D.
3. Roland TR 808
4. Jaki Liebezeit
5. Paul Lovens
6. Anthony Williams
Setlist:
1 Luminous Procuress
2 Zero
3 Brass Canon
4 Mexican Tea Party
5 Jaguar
6 New Earth
7...
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.
…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…
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
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.