I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
A. L. Kennedy
Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur ?
Zoran Terzić
Die Verallgemeinerung des Menschen
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Grabmal für Guy Debord
Sandra Frimmel
I Hate the Avant-garde
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Axel Dielmann
Die Schneiderin
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Joch
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Uma’s Face—Thurman’s Voice
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the Tame
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Zoran Terzić
Transplants politiques
Helmut J. Schneider
Wie fern darf der Nächste sein?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Stephen Barber
Krieg aus Fragmenten: World Versus America
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
Über Realismus
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Bruce Bégout
L’homme de Venise
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Michael Heitz
Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Marcus Quent
Ohne Halt
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
A Little Paris Nightmare
I loved Paris, even as a little boy, long before I lived there. I was like Pinocchio...
Ich erinnere mich an gewellte goldene Kornfelder.
Ich erinnere mich an mich; in der Peripherie des Bildes.
Ich erinnere mich an die...
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…
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
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.