Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Stellvertretende Abschaffung
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Emanuele Coccia
Le futur de la littérature
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
A. L. Kennedy
Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur ?
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Grabmal für Guy Debord
Malte Fabian Rauch
Where the Negative Holds Court
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
Wofür steht der Tod der Avantgarden?
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Ines Kleesattel
Kunst, junge Mädchen und die ästhetische Freiheit untenrum
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Joch
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Jochen Thermann
L’aide-cuisinier
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Maël Renouard
Modifications infimes et considérables
Mário Gomes
Poetik der Architektur
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Artur Zmijewski
Conversation on “Glimpse”
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Andreas Reihse
LISTMANIA: GUANAJUATONOVIEMBRE
K.A.
Hermal
Plörre
Smegma
Ohrwurm
Schlamassel
Kummerspeck
Weltschmerz
Gesöff
Fernweh
Lotterbett
Spelunke
Scharmützel
Donnerwetter
Schabracke
Mumpitz
Spatzenhirn
Lustmolch
Kaschemme
Spinatwachtel
Popanz
Cumulus tuba ;
Cirrus cumulonimbogenitus ;
Wallcloud ;
Bannerwolke ;
Föhnfische ;
mother-of-pearl cloud ;
Altocumulus translucidus ;
Stratocumulus...
1. Ringo Starr
2. Mike D.
3. Roland TR 808
4. Jaki Liebezeit
5. Paul Lovens
6. Anthony Williams
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
DIAPHANES fragt nach Relikten von Zukunftsvisionen in den Bildräumen der Vergangenheit, nach Spuren und Signaturen eines einst Vorstellbaren und zeitlos Möglichen.
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
Now the dead will no longer be buried, now this spectral city will become the site for execrations and lamentations, now time itself will disintegrate and void itself, now human bodies will expectorate fury and envision their own transformation or negation, now infinite and untold catastrophes are imminently on their way —ready to cross the bridge over the river Aire and engulf us all — in this winter of discontent, just beginning at this dead-of-night instant before midnight, North-Sea ice-particles already crackling in the air and the last summer long-over, the final moment of my seventeenth birthday, so we have to go, the devil is at our heels… And now we’re running at full-tilt through the centre of the city, across the square beneath the Purbeck-marble edifice of the Queen’s Hotel, down towards the dark arches under the railway tracks, the illuminated sky shaking, the air fissured with beating cacophony,...
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.