Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mengia Tschalaer
Queere Räume
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Ines Kleesattel
Kunst, junge Mädchen und die ästhetische Freiheit untenrum
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Angelika Meier
Wer ich wirklich bin
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Ann Cotten
Dialoge
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat
Conversation
Marcus Quent
Ohne Halt
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
John Donne
Paradox I
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
A Little Paris Nightmare
I loved Paris, even as a little boy, long before I lived there. I was like Pinocchio...
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Meine Sprache
Deutsch
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.