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
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Blixa Bargeld
LISTMANIA: ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN
Aya Momose
Questionnaire Aya Momose
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
¡ Wenn sie im Flugzeug freie Plätze sehen, dann nicht darum prügeln !
¡ Auf gar keinen Fall darf...
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
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
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.
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.