Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
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?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 2
Beni Bischof
LISTMANIA: BIG BUGS
Damian Christinger
Huelsenbeck (Book)
A Little Paris Nightmare
I loved Paris, even as a little boy, long before I lived there. I was like Pinocchio wandering about in some strange Land of Toys. I...
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...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
…rather alarms, to truth to arm her than enemies, and they have only this advantage to scape from being called ill things, that they are nothings…
Not on any Knowlede’s service this register in progress seeks accumulating entries of imagenables: names, objects, imaginations… singularities, that neither have to be thought nor upon which must be speculated.
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
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.