Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
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
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Helmut J. Schneider
How Distant Can My Neighbor be?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Beni Bischof
LISTMANIA: BIG BUGS
K.A.
Hermal
Dorothee Scheiffarth
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES
Pierre Guyotat
Autoportrait
On the first gaze the works of Emma Waltraud Howes seem incongruously out of time. Visiting her studio, one enters another world: meets mushrooms and corals, glass artichoke-hand grenades, the...
Nicole Bachmann’s latest work, I say, has the performer practice a text, sense a word in the mouth, calling it forth, and another, repeating, hearing, interrupting, and another, beginning again,...
The project space CORNER COLLEGE in Zurich’s 4th district has for some time now been giving invigorating impulses to both art and theory, and can be recommended to every visitor...
I got to know Tom Kummer in 2006 while editing his book Blow Up in nighttime telephone calls to Los Angeles. We met for the first time at the book...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.
…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…
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.