Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Stellvertretende Abschaffung
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Claire Fontaine
Vers une théorie du matérialisme magique
Zoran Terzić
Die Verallgemeinerung des Menschen
A. L. Kennedy
Was ist ein Autor?
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Alexander García Düttmann
Cold Distance
Michael Heitz
Wong Pings "Who’s the Daddy"
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Zoran Terzić
Transplants politiques
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Mário Gomes
Poetik der Architektur
Alexander García Düttmann
Kann es eine Gesellschaft ohne Feier geben oder Die kritische Frage des Theaters
Bruce Bégout
L’homme de Venise
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
Stephen Barber
I remember (Stephen Barber)
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Es sei uns gestattet, hier einmal sämtliche Gründe aufzuzählen, warum wir von Schach nichts halten.
1. Es ist ein...
1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."
2. At first you may feel embarrassed...
Setlist:
1 Luminous Procuress
2 Zero
3 Brass Canon
4 Mexican Tea Party
5 Jaguar
6 New Earth
7...
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
Nicht im Dienste irgendeines Wissens oder Spekulierens will dieses fortlaufende Register Eintragungen über Vorstellbares ansammeln: Namen, Objekte, Phänomene, Singularitäten.
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
…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…
“So many egoists call themselves artists,” Rimbaud wrote to Paul Demeny on May 15, 1871. Even though that is not always obvious, ‘I’, the first person, is the most unknown person, a mystery that is constantly moving towards the other two, the second and third persons, a series of unfoldings and smatterings that eventually gelled as ‘Je est un autre’. That is why ‘apocryphal’ is a literarily irrelevant concept and ‘pseudo’ a symptom, the very proof that life, writing, is made up of echoes, which means that intrusions and thefts (Borges also discusses them) will always be the daily bread of those who write.
Words from others, words taken out of place and mutilated: here are the alms of time, that squanderer’s sole kindness. And so many others, mostly others who wrote, and many other pages, all of them apocryphal, all of them echoes, reflections. All this flows together into—two centuries...
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.