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
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Malte Fabian Rauch
Where the Negative Holds Court
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Corpo a corpo con l’ignoto
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Tom Kummer
Questionnaire Tom Kummer
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
Stephen Barber
I remember (Stephen Barber)
K.A.
Hermal
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
Une Trinité de mémoire
Je me souviens de quelques lieux, de quelques parfums d’enfance. En Amérique du Sud, en Equateur, à...
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
We are looking for relics of visions of the future in past image spaces, for the traces and signatures of something once imaginable and timelessly possible.
…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…
Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?
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.