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
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
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Malte Fabian Rauch
Where the Negative Holds Court
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Malte Fabian Rauch
Phenomena in Exile
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
John Donne
Paradox I
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
Facebook’s picture tumbler is currently reminding me of my first visit to China a year ago. I was impressed: so...
Facebook’s algorithm has served up memories of my Turkish travels often enough, but now it’s taking countermeasures and suddenly presenting...
I noticed this pattern for fingernail decoration four years ago in the window of a “nail studio” in Salisbury, south-west...
The Facebook algorithm has noticed that I have something to do with art and museums, and presents me with a...
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
…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…
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.
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.