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
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Yoke
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Hendrik Rohlf
Richard Prince (Book)
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
K.A.
Hermal
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
Discoteca Flaming Star
Ich erinnere mich… (Discoteca Flaming Star)
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…)"…
…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…
Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.