I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
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
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Stellvertretende Abschaffung
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
A. L. Kennedy
Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur ?
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Zoran Terzić
Die Verallgemeinerung des Menschen
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Claire Fontaine
Vers une théorie du matérialisme magique
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tombeau pour Guy Debord
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Lars von Trier im Gespräch mit Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Maria Filomena Molder
Die Almosen der Zeit
Zoran Terzić
Transplants politiques
Helmut J. Schneider
Wie fern darf der Nächste sein?
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Fiktionen von Heimat
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Marcus Quent
Verrinnen der Zeit und Glaube an die Welt
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Mário Gomes
Brandsatz & Ästhetik
Michael Heitz
Another New God in Parts
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
A Little Paris Nightmare
I loved Paris, even as a little boy, long before I lived there. I was like Pinocchio...
DIAPHANES fragt nach Relikten von Zukunftsvisionen in den Bildräumen der Vergangenheit, nach Spuren und Signaturen eines einst Vorstellbaren und zeitlos Möglichen.
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«!
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
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.