I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Emanuele Coccia
Le futur de la littérature
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
A. L. Kennedy
Was ist ein Autor?
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – oder: die ekstatische Agonie des Erscheinens
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Grabmal für Guy Debord
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Michael Heitz
Wong Pings "Who’s the Daddy"
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Axel Dielmann
Die Schneiderin
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Helmut J. Schneider
Wie fern darf der Nächste sein?
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Marcus Quent
Verrinnen der Zeit und Glaube an die Welt
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Ann Cotten
Dialogs
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Mário Gomes
Poetik der Architektur
John Donne
Paradox I
Michael Heitz
Another New God in Parts
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
Ich erinnere mich an gewellte goldene Kornfelder.
Ich erinnere mich an mich; in der Peripherie des Bildes.
Ich erinnere mich an die...
…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…
Nicht im Dienste irgendeines Wissens oder Spekulierens will dieses fortlaufende Register Eintragungen über Vorstellbares ansammeln: Namen, Objekte, Phänomene, Singularitäten.
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.
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.