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
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
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?
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 2
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
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...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
…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.
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.