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Wong Ping: Still from ”Who is the Daddy" – courtesy of Edouard Malingue Gallery and the artist
Content
Mike Wilson . Rockabilly . . . . . Tyler Coburn . Ergonomic Futures . . . . . Michael Heitz . Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . Unabhängigkeit . . . . . Marcus Quent . Ohne Halt . . . . . Facebook’s Just a Nail Studio . . . . . Barbara Basting — The Algorithm and I . . . . . GUANAJUATONOVIEMBRE . . . . . LISTMANIA . . . . . Ute Holl . Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile . . . . . L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée . . . . . Mário Gomes . Brandsatz & Ästhetik . . . . . Self-portrait . . . . . TWELVE DRUMMERS DRUMMING . . . . . Boutiques on the Bosporus . . . . . Quaddie . . . . . Problem IX: Warum haben Hurenkinder das allermeiste Glück? . . . . . Hermal . . . . . I remember . . . . . Peter Ott . Die monotheistische Zelle oder Berichte aus der Fiktion . . . . . 12 May 2011 – 12 May 2017: On Non-Digital Storage Media . . . . . How to Pilot an Aeroplane . . . . . THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES . . . . . 12 Feb 2011 — 12 Feb 2017 . . . . . Ich erinnere mich… . . . . . This is not your blood. . . . . . Je me souviens… . . . . . Custom Creates Law . . . . . China frisst Menschen . . . . . Human Oddities . . . . . The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media . . . . . Paradox I: That all things kill themselves . . . . . Behind the Great Firewall . . . . . Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat . Conversation . . . . . Exodus. Gods and Kings . . . . . HER . . . . . ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN . . . . . American English . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . The Prison . . . . . BIG BUGS . . . . . I remember… . . . . . Marcus Quent . No Respite . . . . . Michael Heitz . Another New God in Parts . . . . . Peter Ott . The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly . . . . . Julien Maret . IN EXTREMIS

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SCHÖNE WORTE FÜR ABSCHEULICHE DINGE IN ZUFÄLLIGER REIHENFOLGE

Natascha Bub, 03.07.2017

Plörre
Smegma
Ohrwurm
Schlamassel
Kummerspeck
Weltschmerz
Gesöff
Fernweh
Lotterbett
Spelunke
Scharmützel
Donnerwetter
Schabracke
Mumpitz
Spatzenhirn
Lustmolch
Kaschemme
Spinatwachtel
Popanz

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES

Dorothee Scheiffarth, 24.03.2017

Cumulus tuba ;
Cirrus cumulonimbogenitus ;
Wallcloud ;
Bannerwolke ;
Föhnfische ;
mother-of-pearl cloud ;
Altocumulus translucidus ;
Stratocumulus...

BIG BUGS

Beni Bischof, 24.03.2017

Forever!

Star

Shame!

Cheat

War

Wedding

Psych

Suicide

Dying!

Love

Other columns
  • Future Pluperfect

    We are looking for relics of visions of the future in past image spaces, for the traces and signatures of something once imaginable and timelessly possible.

  • FICTIONARY

    FICTIONARY

    Not on any Knowlede’s service this register in progress seeks accumulating entries of imagenables: names, objects, imaginations… singularities, that neither have to be thought nor upon which must be speculated.

  • L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée

    L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée

    L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée

  • Questionnaire

    Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?

Magazine Special

Ute Holl

Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile

OPEN
ACCESS
  • exile
  • monotheism
  • Karl Marx
  • communism
  • film

My language
English

Selected content
English, French

»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

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