Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Felix Stalder
Feedback als Authentitzität
A. L. Kennedy
Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur ?
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tombeau pour Guy Debord
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Grabmal für Guy Debord
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
Was wir nicht sehen
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Maria Filomena Molder
Die Almosen der Zeit
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Hautnah am Körper des Unbekannten
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Maël Renouard
Modifications infimes et considérables
Manuel Franquelo
Manuel Franquelo im Gespräch
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Ann Cotten
Dialoge
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Michael Heitz
Another New God in Parts
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
Ich erinnere mich an gewellte goldene Kornfelder.
Ich erinnere mich an mich; in der Peripherie des Bildes.
Ich erinnere mich an die...
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
…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.
A for Anomie
The idea that terrorism and other forms of political violence are directly related to strains caused by strongly held grievances has been one of the most common explanations to date and can be traced to a diverse set of theoretical concepts including relative deprivation, social disorganization, breakdown, tension, and anomie. Merton (1938) identifies anomie as a cultural condition of frustration, in which values regarding goals and how to achieve them conflict with limitations on the means of achievement.
Gary LaFree and Laura Dugan, “Research on Terrorism and Countering Terrorism”, Crime and Justice, Vol. 38, No. 1, 2009.
B for Block or Blocked
If terrorism in each of its expressions can be considered an indicator of the existence of a political block (of an impossibility of reacting if one wishes to react differently), this influences its real ability to modify the situation. Terrorism has been historically more successful when it was not...
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»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.