Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Emanuele Coccia
Le futur de la littérature
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – oder: die ekstatische Agonie des Erscheinens
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Claire Fontaine
Vers une théorie du matérialisme magique
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
A.K. Kaiza
Eine kommentierte Geschichte Wakandas
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit: un corps à corps avec l’inconnu
Manuel Franquelo
Manuel Franquelo im Gespräch
Marcus Quent
Verrinnen der Zeit und Glaube an die Welt
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Bruce Bégout
L’homme de Venise
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
Über Realismus
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
John Donne
Paradox I
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Oliver Hendricks
Human Oddities (Book)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
John Donne
Problem IX
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
Une Trinité de mémoire
Je me souviens de quelques lieux, de quelques parfums d’enfance. En Amérique du Sud, en Equateur, à...
A Little Paris Nightmare
I loved Paris, even as a little boy, long before I lived there. I was like Pinocchio...
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
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?
…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…
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.