Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Stellvertretende Abschaffung
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Mengia Tschalaer
Queere Räume
A. L. Kennedy
Was ist ein Autor?
A. L. Kennedy
What is an Author?
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Zoran Terzić
The Tautomaniac
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Umas Gesicht – Thurmans Stimme
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Axel Dielmann
Die Schneiderin
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Zoran Terzić
Politische Transplantate
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Maël Renouard
Modifications infimes et considérables
Stephen Barber
Krieg aus Fragmenten: World Versus America
Stephen Barber
Futurama Nights, October 1978
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venedig, Lagos und der Raum dazwischen
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Haus am Gern
L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée (Blog1)
Aya Momose
Questionnaire Aya Momose
Ute Holl
Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
A Little Paris Nightmare
I loved Paris, even as a little boy, long before I lived there. I was like Pinocchio...
…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…
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.
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.