I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
K.A.
Hermal
1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."
2. At first you may feel embarrassed...
Plörre
Smegma
Ohrwurm
Schlamassel
Kummerspeck
Weltschmerz
Gesöff
Fernweh
Lotterbett
Spelunke
Scharmützel
Donnerwetter
Schabracke
Mumpitz
Spatzenhirn
Lustmolch
Kaschemme
Spinatwachtel
Popanz
…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…
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?
The post I’m now sharing was somewhat unsettling: “Barbara joined Facebook 6 years ago!”
Successful asylum claims generally require generating a racialist, colonialist discourse that impugns the nation-state from which the asylum seeker comes. While to impugn the asylum seeker’s place of origin may well be a necessity for the purpose of asylum, it is problematic if it serves to confirm the moral and political superiority of the West through the myth of the ideal victim. In order to avoid the cookie-cutter victimhood framework that refers to idealizations around “Us” and “Them,” Europe must adopt a reflexive approach to queer asylum that allows for recognizing its own stereotypes in regard to homosexuality, race, and gender, so as not to reproduce colonial and imperialistic narratives of vulnerability, sex, and desire through Eurocentric asylum regimes.
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.