Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
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
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Mengia Tschalaer
Queere Räume
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Felix Stalder
Feedback als Authentitzität
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tombeau pour Guy Debord
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Joch
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Helmut J. Schneider
Wie fern darf der Nächste sein?
Zoran Terzić
Politische Transplantate
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Maël Renouard
Fragmente eines unendlichen Gedächtnisses
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venice, Lagos, and the Spaces in between
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
K.A.
Hermal
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Michael Heitz
Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
…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.
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
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...
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.