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
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Hendrik Rohlf
Richard Prince (Book)
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Trmasan Bruialesi
Lieber Paul 1
¡ Wenn sie im Flugzeug freie Plätze sehen, dann nicht darum prügeln !
¡ Auf gar keinen Fall darf...
Es sei uns gestattet, hier einmal sämtliche Gründe aufzuzählen, warum wir von Schach nichts halten.
1. Es ist ein...
1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."
2. At first you may feel embarrassed...
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
“So many egoists call themselves artists,” Rimbaud wrote to Paul Demeny on May 15, 1871. Even though that is not always obvious, ‘I’, the first person, is the most unknown person, a mystery that is constantly moving towards the other two, the second and third persons, a series of unfoldings and smatterings that eventually gelled as ‘Je est un autre’. That is why ‘apocryphal’ is a literarily irrelevant concept and ‘pseudo’ a symptom, the very proof that life, writing, is made up of echoes, which means that intrusions and thefts (Borges also discusses them) will always be the daily bread of those who write.
Words from others, words taken out of place and mutilated: here are the alms of time, that squanderer’s sole kindness. And so many others, mostly others who wrote, and many other pages, all of them apocryphal, all of them echoes, reflections. All this flows together into—two centuries...
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.