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
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
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
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Helmut J. Schneider
How Distant Can My Neighbor be?
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Manuel Franquelo
An interview with Manuel Franquelo
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Es sei uns gestattet, hier einmal sämtliche Gründe aufzuzählen, warum wir von Schach nichts halten.
1. Es ist ein...
1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."
2. At first you may feel embarrassed...
1. Ringo Starr
2. Mike D.
3. Roland TR 808
4. Jaki Liebezeit
5. Paul Lovens
6. Anthony Williams
…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…
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.