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
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 2
Damian Christinger
Huelsenbeck (Book)
It may be due to the simple design of this dust jacket, which gives no indication of genre, and to...
The Nonexistent Giotto
A picture may announce the future not in the sense that it refers to any future events...
Although contemporaries attested Romantic qualities to François Gérard’s Belisar, it didn’t appeal to the arch-Romantic Delacroix: “The fortune of a...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
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.