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
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
Pierre Guyotat
Autoportrait
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
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...
Facebook recently wanted to make merry with me. To this aim it posted an entry on my notice board, which...
The Facebook algorithm has noticed that I have something to do with art and museums, and presents me with a...
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
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.
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.
…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…
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.