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
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Beni Bischof
LISTMANIA: BIG BUGS
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
It may be due to the simple design of this dust jacket, which gives no indication of genre, and to...
The Nonexistent Giotto
A picture may announce the future not in the sense that it refers to any future events...
Although contemporaries attested Romantic qualities to François Gérard’s Belisar, it didn’t appeal to the arch-Romantic Delacroix: “The fortune of a...
Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…
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?
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
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.