Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
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
Une vie en philologie
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Joch
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Lars von Trier im Gespräch mit Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Helmut J. Schneider
Wie fern darf der Nächste sein?
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit: un corps à corps avec l’inconnu
Angelika Meier
Wer ich wirklich bin
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Jochen Thermann
Der Hilfskoch
Stephen Barber
Krieg aus Fragmenten: World Versus America
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Alexander García Düttmann
Kann es eine Gesellschaft ohne Feier geben oder Die kritische Frage des Theaters
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Stephen Barber
I remember (Stephen Barber)
Michael Heitz
Another New God in Parts
K.A.
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Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
Gedanklich-sinnliche Küchenzettel, Aufzählungen und Auslesen…
…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…
DIAPHANES fragt nach Relikten von Zukunftsvisionen in den Bildräumen der Vergangenheit, nach Spuren und Signaturen eines einst Vorstellbaren und zeitlos Möglichen.
I said “Would you like a rope? You know that haul you have is not secured properly.”
“No,” he said, “but I see you have string!”
“If this comes into motion—” I said, “you should use a rope.”
“Any poison ivy on that? ” he asked me, and I told him my rope had been in the barn peacefully for years.
He took a length of it to the bedside table. He had no concept for what wood could endure.
“Table must have broken when I lashed it onto the truck,” he said.
And, when he was moving the sewing machine, he let the cast iron wheels—bang, bang on the stair.
I had settled down to pack up the flamingo cookie jar, the cutlery, and the cookware, but stopped briefly, for how many times do you catch sudden sight of something heartfelt?
I saw our milk cows in their slow...
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Aktuell ausgewählte Inhalte
Deutsch, Englisch, Französisch
»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.