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I remember . . . . . TWELVE DRUMMERS DRUMMING . . . . . Je me souviens… . . . . . China frisst Menschen . . . . . Boutiques on the Bosporus . . . . . How to Pilot an Aeroplane . . . . . Problem IX: Warum haben Hurenkinder das allermeiste Glück? . . . . . Paradox I: That all things kill themselves . . . . . Barbara Basting — The Algorithm and I . . . . . Mário Gomes . Brandsatz & Ästhetik . . . . . Tyler Coburn . Ergonomic Futures . . . . . LISTMANIA . . . . . L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée . . . . . Ich erinnere mich… . . . . . I remember… . . . . . BIG BUGS . . . . . Quaddie . . . . . Custom Creates Law . . . . . I remember . . . . . Facebook’s Just a Nail Studio . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . Unabhängigkeit . . . . . Charlemagne Rides through Paris . . . . . This is not your blood. . . . . . ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly . . . . . American English . . . . . HER . . . . . Behind the Great Firewall . . . . . Artificial and Other Intelligences . . . . . Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat . Conversation . . . . . Peter Ott . Die monotheistische Zelle oder Berichte aus der Fiktion . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . The Prison . . . . . Self-portrait . . . . . 12 May 2011 – 12 May 2017: On Non-Digital Storage Media . . . . . The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media . . . . . Hermal . . . . . THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES . . . . . GUANAJUATONOVIEMBRE . . . . . Ute Holl . Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile . . . . . Marcus Quent . Ohne Halt . . . . . Exodus. Gods and Kings . . . . . Michael Heitz . Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen . . . . . Human Oddities . . . . . 12 Feb 2011 — 12 Feb 2017 . . . . . Marcus Quent . No Respite . . . . . Michael Heitz . Another New God in Parts . . . . . Peter Ott . The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction . . . . . Julien Maret . IN EXTREMIS . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly

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DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 1

 

Bang Bang Baroque

Emma Waltraud Howes, 08.06.2023

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...

I say

Nicole Bachmann, 11.12.2017

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,...

This is not your blood.

Aya Momose, 11.12.2017

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...

A Questionnaire: Tom Kummer

Tom Kummer, 04.07.2017

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...

Other columns
  • LISTMANIA

    LISTMANIA

    Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…

  • John Donne’s Paradoxes and Problems

    John Donne’s Paradoxes and Problems

    …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…

  • I remember

    I remember

    Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…

  • Future Pluperfect

    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.

Magazine Special

Ute Holl

Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile

OPEN
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  • monotheism
  • communism
  • exile
  • film
  • Karl Marx

My language
English

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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

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