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BIG BUGS . . . . . 12 May 2011 – 12 May 2017: On Non-Digital Storage Media . . . . . This is not your blood. . . . . . Boutiques on the Bosporus . . . . . GUANAJUATONOVIEMBRE . . . . . THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly . . . . . TWELVE DRUMMERS DRUMMING . . . . . Barbara Basting — The Algorithm and I . . . . . Artificial and Other Intelligences . . . . . Human Oddities . . . . . China frisst Menschen . . . . . Facebook’s Just a Nail Studio . . . . . Self-portrait . . . . . Quaddie . . . . . I remember… . . . . . Je me souviens… . . . . . Ute Holl . Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile . . . . . I remember . . . . . Mário Gomes . Brandsatz & Ästhetik . . . . . LISTMANIA . . . . . American English . . . . . Behind the Great Firewall . . . . . Marcus Quent . Ohne Halt . . . . . L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée . . . . . ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN . . . . . Custom Creates Law . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . Unabhängigkeit . . . . . How to Pilot an Aeroplane . . . . . The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media . . . . . Ich erinnere mich… . . . . . Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat . Conversation . . . . . Charlemagne Rides through Paris . . . . . Peter Ott . Die monotheistische Zelle oder Berichte aus der Fiktion . . . . . Michael Heitz . Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen . . . . . Tyler Coburn . Ergonomic Futures . . . . . Problem IX: Warum haben Hurenkinder das allermeiste Glück? . . . . . Exodus. Gods and Kings . . . . . I remember . . . . . HER . . . . . Hermal . . . . . Paradox I: That all things kill themselves . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . The Prison . . . . . 12 Feb 2011 — 12 Feb 2017 . . . . . Julien Maret . IN EXTREMIS . . . . . Michael Heitz . Another New God in Parts . . . . . Peter Ott . The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction . . . . . Marcus Quent . No Respite . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly

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DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 8/9
DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 5

 

Bang Bang Baroque

Emma Waltraud Howes, 08.06.2023

On the first gaze the works of Emma Waltraud Howes seem incongruously out of time. Visiting her studio, one enters another world: meets mushrooms and corals, glass artichoke-hand grenades, the...

I say

Nicole Bachmann, 11.12.2017

Nicole Bachmann’s latest work, I say, has the performer practice a text, sense a word in the mouth, calling it forth, and another, repeating, hearing, interrupting, and another, beginning again,...

This is not your blood.

Aya Momose, 11.12.2017

The project space CORNER COLLEGE in Zurich’s 4th district has for some time now been giving invigorating impulses to both art and ­theory, and can be recommended to every visitor...

A Questionnaire: Tom Kummer

Tom Kummer, 04.07.2017

I got to know Tom Kummer in 2006 while editing his book Blow Up in nighttime telephone calls to Los Angeles. We met for the first time at the book...

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Ute Holl

Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile

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»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

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