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
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
Facebook’s picture tumbler is currently reminding me of my first visit to China a year ago. I was impressed: so...
Facebook’s algorithm has served up memories of my Turkish travels often enough, but now it’s taking countermeasures and suddenly presenting...
I sit in the lobby of a hotel in China where I am accommodated along with other guests of an...
I’m no longer very happy with Facebook. Recently the algorithm seems to be taking the platform into total despotism. And...
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.
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…
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
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.