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

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DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 3
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...

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»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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