I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Stellvertretende Abschaffung
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Emanuele Coccia
Le futur de la littérature
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Felix Stalder
Feedback als Authentitzität
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tombeau pour Guy Debord
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Alexander García Düttmann
Kalte Distanz
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Michael Heitz
Wong Pings "Who’s the Daddy"
Zoran Terzić
Politische Transplantate
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Hautnah am Körper des Unbekannten
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
Über Realismus
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Blixa Bargeld
LISTMANIA: ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 1
Hendrik Rohlf
Richard Prince (Book)
Kommt ein Polizist zu einem Mann, der beschuldigt wird, seinen kleinen Sohn zu Tode geschüttelt zu haben. Wie ist denn das passiert?, will der Polizist wissen. So!, gibt der Mann...
The Three Marias is a highly interesting work of feminist literature, although it’s now largely forgotten outside of its native Portugal. In the early 70s, while the country was still...
Bearded Ladies, Dwarfs and Giants, Hermaphrodites, Siamese Twins (see Heng and Chang on the book cover), the Mule-headed Lady, The Serpent-Woman, The Amazing Half-Boy (famous for his appearance in...
Gedanklich-sinnliche Küchenzettel, Aufzählungen und Auslesen…
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
DIAPHANES fragt nach Relikten von Zukunftsvisionen in den Bildräumen der Vergangenheit, nach Spuren und Signaturen eines einst Vorstellbaren und zeitlos Möglichen.
Nicht im Dienste irgendeines Wissens oder Spekulierens will dieses fortlaufende Register Eintragungen über Vorstellbares ansammeln: Namen, Objekte, Phänomene, Singularitäten.
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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»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.