I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Helmut J. Schneider
How Distant Can My Neighbor be?
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat
Conversation
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
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...
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...
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
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.
…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…
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.