User account

Wong Ping: Still from ”Who is the Daddy" – courtesy of Edouard Malingue Gallery and the artist
Language can never be private
  • feminism
  • language
  • theatre / drama
  • subjectification
  • gender
  • Shakespeare
Other Topics
Blood!
Blood!

Ines Kleesattel

Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below

In Riehen, Basel, as part of a Balthus retrospective, Thérèse rêvant is being shown with an expectedly large media echo. And I’m going to take a look at her, because the Diaphanes publishers have suggested launching the “Collisions” section with a text about Balthus. Of all people. I’d rather not—on the one hand. After all, with his questionable preference for adolescent girls, Balthus has already received more than enough attention. Attention that until his death in 2008 he provoked with...
OPEN
ACCESS
DE
  • gaze
  • body
  • gender
  • feminism
  • art history
La molle et voluptueuse décadence du lieu
 La molle et voluptueuse décadence du lieu

Bruce Bégout

L’homme de Venise

Je ne parlerai pas ici de mon métier. Je pratique l’urbex depuis plus de vingt ans et mon blog est le plus consulté sur la toile. J’y ai compilé des centaines de visites sur des sites oubliés, décrit des lieux abandonnés aux quatre coins du monde (tunnels, bases sous-marine, parcs d’attraction, asiles, usines, etc.) narré mes aventures dans ces endroits insolites et reculés qui exercent une grande fascination sur l’imagination moderne. Tout le monde connaît mon nom – un pseudonyme...
Fiction

Diane Williams

How about some string?

I said “Would you like a rope? You know that haul you have is not secured properly.”
“No,” he said, “but I see you have string!”
“If this comes into motion—” I said, “you should use a rope.”
“Any poison ivy on that? ” he asked me, and I told him my rope had been in the barn peacefully for years.
He took a length of it to the bedside table. He had no concept for what wood could endure.
“Table must have broken when I lashed it onto the truck,” he said.
And, when he was moving the sewing machine, he let the cast iron wheels—bang, bang on the stair.
I had settled down to pack up the flamingo cookie jar, the cutlery, and the cookware, but stopped briefly, for how many times do you catch sudden sight of something heartfelt?
I saw our milk cows in their slow...

ABO DE
Saturnaaaaalia
Saturnaaaaalia

Sina Dell’Anno

Oratio Soluta

Saturn has entered our speech like a lion; as the wild beast of revolution, the limbs of a half-eaten child still hanging from its gaping jaws. This is Goya’s Danton: the bloody face of the untamable fear that human hunger for freedom could go out of control. The gaping jaws announce an appetite for rebellion. This physiognomy of the revolution, heightened tremendously by Goya, is already encountered where Saturn had not yet frozen into the grimace of a world-historical monster, but...
OPEN
ACCESS
DE
Discourse
Mama Say Make I Dey Go, She Dey My Back

Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger

Mama Say Make I Dey Go, She Dey My Back

OPEN
ACCESS
DE
  • ritual
  • colonialism
  • body
  • spiritism
  • performance
  • ceremony
  • feminism
  • Africa
Discourse
From xenolinguistics to cephalo­pods

From xenolinguistics to cephalo­pods

OPEN
ACCESS
  • communication
  • linguistics
  • science fiction
  • communication media
  • utopia
  • semiotics and semiology
Digital disrupture
Digital disrupture

Dieter Mersch

Digital Criticism

We really need an analysis of algorithmic conditions and their paradoxes and ambiguities that gives them an adequate framework and horizon. But instead we currently seem to be finding an algorithmic solution of the algorithmic, much as digital solutions are being offered for the problems of the digital public sphere, in the way that IT corporations, for example, use exclusively mathematical procedures to evaluate and delete “fake news,” inappropriate portrayals, or the violation of personal rights. This tends to result...
OPEN
ACCESS
DE
Humanities

Maria Filomena Molder

So many egoists call themselves artists…

“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...

OPEN
ACCESS
DE

 

We like !