Archive for 2010
Realometer: aesthetics also: esthetics
Tuesday, February 9th, 2010Aesthetics is an individual religion. (Thomas Raab: Nachbrenner). It is a religion of individuals, and it has individual forms. The common denominator of these forms is questionable. The answers depend on the point of view. From the point of view of gouvernementality: aesthetics is compensating and therefore stabilizing the idea of a free individual, which is a necessary function in today’s economy.
From the point of view of realometer: aesthetics is a line of flight which leads to radical changes
From the point of view of D.: aesthetics is a chance to become a pontifex maximus.
From the point of view of J.: aesthetics is an invitation to subversion.
From the point of view of M.:vaesthetics is approaching the absolute.
Judith Albert
Sunday, February 7th, 2010Barbara Ellmerer
Sunday, February 7th, 2010Markus Stegmann: Translation for Yves and Sampurna
Sunday, February 7th, 2010I see a mossy lake in your lungs giving bearth to some bony birds flying out of Sweden while some of us sitting at the edge of Zürich with hair like firs of Black Forest. I decided to join but forgot the breath of my brain somewhere near Ferrette, France, walking along a stony cross in the silver sky. A jungle man below me, sruby fog, is gobbled up by unpainted paintings: with the frequency of his bones we could build a palace for the elks.
For Sampurna: the very first translation ; now Markus
Saturday, February 6th, 2010Barbara Ellmerer
Saturday, February 6th, 2010Link: Art meets Science
Friday, February 5th, 2010Sampurna Chattarji: Space Gulliver IV
Friday, February 5th, 2010‘A parallelogram is a telegram from a parallel world,’
a being in a red hat says, taking out a little notebook.
‘Let me give you my coordinates.’ And instead of latitude
and longitude, as Space Gulliver expects, the being,
whose hat is now an obscure shade of ochre, reels off
a series of sounds like horses neighing, like vowels
and consonants, like numbers from a nightmare.
‘Whether you find me is immaterial,’ the being says,
sounding like himself again, in other words, sounding
like wind in the trees, snow on the grass, willows weeping
into water. ‘It’s the Houyhnhnm that counts.’
There are many beings here, roaming the ether.
Are they real? Is that a parking meter? A lamp post?
So this, Space Gulliver thinks, is what travelling means.






