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
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat
Conversation
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
Ute Holl
Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 2
Facebook’s algorithm has served up memories of my Turkish travels often enough, but now it’s taking countermeasures and suddenly presenting...
I noticed this pattern for fingernail decoration four years ago in the window of a “nail studio” in Salisbury, south-west...
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...
…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…
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.
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
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.