I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Emanuele Coccia
Le futur de la littérature
Felix Stalder
Feedback as Authenticity
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Mengia Tschalaer
Queere Räume
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Christian Beetz, Hendrik Rohlf
Katalysatoren der Radikalisierung
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Jochen Thermann
Der Hilfskoch
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Stephen Barber
Krieg aus Fragmenten: World Versus America
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Diane Williams
Rums Bums auf der Treppe
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Bruce Bégout
L’homme de Venise
Luc Meresma
Capt. Norman MacMillan (Book)
Discoteca Flaming Star
Ich erinnere mich… (Discoteca Flaming Star)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 2
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
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...
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
DIAPHANES fragt nach Relikten von Zukunftsvisionen in den Bildräumen der Vergangenheit, nach Spuren und Signaturen eines einst Vorstellbaren und zeitlos Möglichen.
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
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.