Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Malte Fabian Rauch
Where the Negative Holds Court
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 2
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
John Donne
Paradox I
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Facebook’s picture tumbler is currently reminding me of my first visit to China a year ago. I was impressed: so...
I sit in the lobby of a hotel in China where I am accommodated along with other guests of an...
I noticed this pattern for fingernail decoration four years ago in the window of a “nail studio” in Salisbury, south-west...
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.
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.