Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
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
Surrogate Abolition
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Michael F. Zimmermann
Courbet als Assyrer
Claire Fontaine
Vers une théorie du matérialisme magique
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tombeau pour Guy Debord
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Christian Beetz, Hendrik Rohlf
Katalysatoren der Radikalisierung
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
Was wir nicht sehen
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Helmut J. Schneider
Wie fern darf der Nächste sein?
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
Über Realismus
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Dorothee Scheiffarth
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES
K.A.
Hermal
Aya Momose
Questionnaire Aya Momose
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...
La soif
Quand j’étais enfant, près de la maison ou j’habitais, il y avait une voie ferrée. Avant de m'endormir, j’entendais...
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
…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…
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
Gedanklich-sinnliche Küchenzettel, Aufzählungen und Auslesen…
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.