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

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DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 1

 

Behind the Great Firewall

Barbara Basting, 26.10.2018

I sit in the lobby of a hotel in China where I am accommodated along with other guests of an...

Facebook’s Just a Nail Studio

Barbara Basting, 10.04.2018

I noticed this pattern for fingernail decoration four years ago in the window of a “nail studio” in Salisbury, south-west...

Boutiques on the Bosporus

Barbara Basting, 10.04.2018

I’m no longer very happy with Facebook. Recently the algorithm seems to be taking the platform into total despotism. And...

12 May 2011 – 12 May 2017: On Non-Digital Storage Media

Barbara Basting, 24.03.2017

The Facebook algorithm has noticed that I have something to do with art and museums, and presents me with a...

Other columns
  • 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.

  • 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.

  • LISTMANIA

    LISTMANIA

    Vonceptually sensory bills of fare, enumerations and selections…

  • The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media

    The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media

    Raucous time capsules, rare jewels, and indispensable bulky goods from all epochs, languages, and genres.

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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