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
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Manuel Franquelo
An interview with Manuel Franquelo
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Stephen Barber
I remember (Stephen Barber)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
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
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
…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…
Not on any Knowlede’s service this register in progress seeks accumulating entries of imagenables: names, objects, imaginations… singularities, that neither have to be thought nor upon which must be speculated.
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
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.