Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
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
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
Dorothee Scheiffarth
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES
Michael Heitz
Another New God in Parts
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
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...
Ich erinnere mich an gewellte goldene Kornfelder.
Ich erinnere mich an mich; in der Peripherie des Bildes.
Ich erinnere mich an die...
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
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.
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.