Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
Aya Momose
Questionnaire Aya Momose
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Discoteca Flaming Star
Ich erinnere mich… (Discoteca Flaming Star)
Blixa Bargeld
LISTMANIA: ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN
Kommt ein Polizist zu einem Mann, der beschuldigt wird, seinen kleinen Sohn zu Tode geschüttelt zu haben. Wie ist denn das passiert?, will der Polizist wissen. So!, gibt der Mann...
Der Titel ist Programm. Dieses »in der hauptsache von 1962 bis 1967« geschriebene Werk ist nicht nur ein megalomanisch zusammengeclustertes Durchverdauen der bewegenden Theorien der späten 60er Jahre (Linguistik, Kybernetik,...
In Jugoslawien wurde viel publiziert und wenig weggeworfen. So hatte man die Möglichkeit, in staatlichen Galerien und Museen Ausstellungskataloge und Kunstzeitschriften für Pfennige zu schießen. Einen besonderen Platz in meinem...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
J.G. Ballard’s self-declared ‘Immodest Proposal’ for a global war-alliance to exact the destruction of America demonstrates the provocatory zeal of his last fiction plans, as well as their enduring prescience. As Ballard emphasises several times in the World Versus America notebooks, he is utterly serious in his concerns and visions.
Although the Ballard estate declined permission for any images of pages from the World Versus America archival notebooks to accompany this essay, any member of the general public interested to do so can readily visit the British Library and view the notebooks in their entirety in the freely-accessible manuscripts collection there.
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.