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
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Helmut J. Schneider
How Distant Can My Neighbor be?
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Beni Bischof
LISTMANIA: BIG BUGS
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
La soif
Quand j’étais enfant, près de la maison ou j’habitais, il y avait une voie ferrée. Avant de m'endormir, j’entendais...
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
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.
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
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.