Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Michael Heitz
Wong Pings "Who’s the Daddy"
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
Was wir nicht sehen
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
A.K. Kaiza
Eine kommentierte Geschichte Wakandas
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Fritz Senn
Das Leben besteht aus gestrandeten Konjunktiven
Thomas Huber
Generation of the Lynn Hershman Antibody
Maria Filomena Molder
Die Almosen der Zeit
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Maël Renouard
Fragmente eines unendlichen Gedächtnisses
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Marcus Quent
Verrinnen der Zeit und Glaube an die Welt
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Igor Chubarov
Das Kollektivsubjekt oder die Masse als Subjekt
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Blixa Bargeld
LISTMANIA: ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Cumulus tuba ;
Cirrus cumulonimbogenitus ;
Wallcloud ;
Bannerwolke ;
Föhnfische ;
mother-of-pearl cloud ;
Altocumulus translucidus ;
Stratocumulus...
Setlist:
1 Luminous Procuress
2 Zero
3 Brass Canon
4 Mexican Tea Party
5 Jaguar
6 New Earth
7...
Nicht im Dienste irgendeines Wissens oder Spekulierens will dieses fortlaufende Register Eintragungen über Vorstellbares ansammeln: Namen, Objekte, Phänomene, Singularitäten.
In der Folge von Georges Perecs Erinnerung 480: "Ich erinnere mich… (Fortsetzung folgt…)"
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?
J.G. Ballard’s self-declared ‘Immodest Proposal’ for a global war-alliance to exact the destruction of America demonstrates the provocatory zeal of his last fiction plans, as well as their enduring prescience. As Ballard emphasises several times in the World Versus America notebooks, he is utterly serious in his concerns and visions.
Although the Ballard estate declined permission for any images of pages from the World Versus America archival notebooks to accompany this essay, any member of the general public interested to do so can readily visit the British Library and view the notebooks in their entirety in the freely-accessible manuscripts collection there.
Externalized memory had always proceeded by contractions, summaries, reductions, selections, breaks in flow, as well as by organization, classification, boiling down. Card catalogues reduced thousands of works to a few key notions; tables of contents contracted the hundreds of pages in a given book. The sign itself was the first abbreviation of experience. An epic stitched of words was an abbreviation of the war, the long years of which were reduced to a few nights of recitation; the written text that recorded the epic was a contraction of the oral narration which pushed aside its sensory richness, melody, life in a thousand details. In accumulating, every level of abbreviation reconstituted an infinite flow, a new dilation that would be contracted in its turn. From the plurality of pages to the index and the table of contents; from the plurality of books to card catalogues.
The abbreviated elements were further arranged, situated...
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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.
DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 10
10 March 2021