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
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Trmasan Bruialesi
Lieber Paul 1
Luc Meresma
Capt. Norman MacMillan (Book)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
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...
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...
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
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
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.