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Behind the Great Firewall . . . . . Slavs and Tatars . Reverse Joy . . . . . . . . . . Boutiques on the Bosporus . . . . . Angelika Meier . Wer ich wirklich bin . . . . . Thomas Huber . Generation of the Lynn Hershman Antibody . . . . . Zoran Terzić . Political Transplants . . . . . . Xenolinguistics . . . . . Jochen Thermann . Der Hilfskoch . . . . . Honoré Daumier: Don Quixote lisant . . . . . Helmut J. Schneider . Wie fern darf der Nächste sein? . . . . . Artificial and Other Intelligences . . . . . Charlemagne Rides through Paris . . . . . Maria Filomena Molder . The Alms of Time . . . . . A.K. Kaiza . An Annotated History of Wakanda . . . . . Michele Pedrazzi . The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto . . . . . Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger . Fiktionen von Heimat . . . . . Jean-Luc Nancy . Zah Zuh . . . . . I remember . . . . . Je me souviens . . . . . Michele Pedrazzi . The Next Bit. Hautnah am Körper des Unbekannten . . . . . Jean-Luc Nancy . Zah Zuh . . . . . Zoran Terzić . Transplants politiques . . . . . Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger . Homeland Fictions . . . . . Slavs and Tatars . Reverse Joy . . . . . Maria Filomena Molder . Die Almosen der Zeit . . . . . Helmut J. Schneider . How Distant Can My Neighbor be? . . . . . A.K. Kaiza . Eine kommentierte Geschichte Wakandas . . . . . Jean-Luc Nancy . Zah Zuh . . . . . Jochen Thermann . L’aide-cuisinier . . . . . Jean-Luc Nancy . Zah Zuh . . . . . Angelika Meier . Who I Really Am . . . . . Jochen Thermann . The Assistant Chef . . . . . Michele Pedrazzi . The Next Bit: un corps à corps avec l’inconnu . . . . . Zoran Terzić . Politische Transplantate

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DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 3

BELISAR by François Gérard

Christine Tauber

Belisar

DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 1

 

Kybernetik für alle

Michael Schultze, 03.07.2017

Der Titel ist Programm. Dieses »in der hauptsache von 1962 bis 1967« geschriebene Werk ist nicht nur ein megalomanisch zusammengeclustertes Durchverdauen der bewegenden Theorien der späten 60er Jahre (Linguistik, Kybernetik,...

Materiality and corporeality

Kári Páll Óskarsson, 03.07.2017

The Three Marias is a highly interesting work of feminist literature, although it’s now largely forgotten outside of its native Portugal. In the early 70s, while the country was still...

Eine wahre Wundertüte

Nikola Duric, 03.07.2017

In Jugoslawien wurde viel publiziert und wenig weggeworfen. So hatte man die Möglichkeit, in staatlichen Galerien und Museen Ausstellungskataloge und Kunstzeitschriften für Pfennige zu schießen. Einen besonderen Platz in meinem...

Other columns
  • L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée

    L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée

    L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée

  • LISTMANIA

    LISTMANIA

    Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…

  • I remember

    I remember

    Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…

  • Future Pluperfect

    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.

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

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