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
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Malte Fabian Rauch
Where the Negative Holds Court
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Stephen Barber
I remember (Stephen Barber)
John Donne
Paradox I
Trmasan Bruialesi
Lieber Paul 1
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
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
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
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.