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
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
Trmasan Bruialesi
Lieber Paul 1
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...
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
Une Trinité de mémoire
Je me souviens de quelques lieux, de quelques parfums d’enfance. En Amérique du Sud, en Equateur, à...
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.
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
…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…
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.