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In der neuen Kör­perteilkolumne geht es ins Innere des Unter­leibs. Es geht dahin, wo gesam­melt und aus­ge­hal­ten und tröpfchen­weise raus­ge­lassen wird. Es geht um die Blase – auf der Auto­bahn, im Kino, beim Sex und bei John Irving. 

In der neuen Kör­perteilkolumne geht es ins Innere des Unter­leibs. Es geht dahin, wo gesam­melt und aus­ge­hal­ten und tröpfchen­weise raus­ge­lassen wird. Es geht um die Blase – auf der Auto­bahn, im Kino, beim Sex und bei John Irving. 

Religious Art

Nobody inspect­ed the dan­gling Marias… None fret­ted for the 40 dif­fer­ent infant Jesus­es, threat­en­ing to tum­ble with the mama to the floor.

New York/The Guggen­heim: Ein Robot­er in einem Glaskä­fig ver­sucht sich drei Jahre lang am Leben zu erhal­ten. Am Ende sein­er Kraft liegt eine absurde Erkenntnis. 

Fleisch & Fragmente IV: Das Ohr

Unsere Autorin denkt über den men­schlichen Kör­p­er nach. Das geht am besten Stück für Stück. Dieses Mal gedacht wird: ein Ohr, das Ohr, die Ohren. Es geht ums Hören und …

An Oral History of Daisy the Great

FFMag recent­ly sat down for an inter­view with Daisy the Great. Our con­ver­sa­tion ranged from their thes­pi­an ori­gins to pan­dem­ic-era suc­cess and grow­ing pains.

Wir sehen, was wir sehen sollen. Seit­dem das Orig­i­nal eines Kunst­werks beliebig repro­duzier­bar ist, wis­sen wir nicht mehr, was wir sehen. Manch­mal sehen wir eine Frau. Und meis­tens sehen wir eine Frau, die gese­hen wird. Und das ist nicht dasselbe.

Foto: mercy ferrars

The Stuff of Life to Knit Me

Allen Gins­berg once said of Neal Cas­sady that he was the art. It is my opin­ion that Allen Gins­berg did not quite under­stand what art is.

Religious Art

Nobody inspect­ed the dan­gling Marias… None fret­ted for the 40 dif­fer­ent infant Jesus­es, threat­en­ing to tum­ble with the mama to the floor.

The Stuff of Life to Knit Me

Allen Gins­berg once said of Neal Cas­sady that he was the art. It is my opin­ion that Allen Gins­berg did not quite under­stand what art is.

the sea you had become

See, there’s this thing about you—you were like this tiny droplet on a day of with­er­ing heat. When the days became indis­tin­guish­able from one anoth­er, filled with the absence of love, scorch­ing sum­mer suns blazed over my life like they had a per­son­al vendet­ta against the ground beneath my feet. In the heat, just a sin­gle drop of water, fleet­ing and brief, felt like the down­pour of the ocean itself.

A M N E S I A VII—IX

“There is an uneasy silence in the pod rac­ing toward sec­tor 22. Onyx and I sit silent­ly next to each oth­er while the south­ern and east­ern periph­eries rush past us. Every now and then I notice his eyes on me. Sud­den­ly, I am a glass house and he can see right through me, into the hol­lows and the attic of my pres­ence, reach­ing beyond my map of myself. Or per­haps I just want him to.”

A M N E S I A IV—VI

I see flash­es of her face in front of me, big, daz­ing green eyes and skin cov­ered in debris of pain. “I see only dark­ness, dis­placed in me instead of the night.” She’s my God. She knows of our begin­nings and our aber­ra­tion. She killed her­self so I could live. I might as well try.

Zusammengelegte Kleidung

“Diese Zeit­en machen mir Angst. Weil sie unerr­e­ich­bar scheinen. Weil meine Zeit­en in alle Rich­tun­gen zer­fließen. Ich ver­suche mich wieder einzuord­nen ins Sys­tem. Ins Leben.”

The Entropic Lighter

“Now, the fire can come back at any time, and it will not be as trau­ma­tiz­ing as it was before; flames will be noth­ing but old lovers wel­comed back into a house haunt­ed by their absence. His ther­a­pist her­self said it: mean­ing can be found in chaos. It is, after all, nicer to see the glass half-emp­ty than to admit that there is no glass anymore.”

A M N E S I A I—III

I had spent my life won­der­ing whether bro­ken love could be mend­ed when I saw my par­ents drift apart, from secret dances in the moon­lit kitchen to becom­ing strangers, vio­lent­ly and abrupt­ly fight­ing for divorce. Like a glued-up vase. I refused to see it then, but a frac­tured vase still expos­es its porce­lain fragili­ty even after it has been reassem­bled. Even with the finest glue and the hands of a ceramist, it reveals the truth in the cracks between the pieces.

Snkllr

“Part of me knew it was impos­si­ble to come close. Just this one time I wish I did­n’t need the fire because the sky is dark around me already.”

Foto: patrick mueller

“Now, the fire can come back at any time, and it will not be as trau­ma­tiz­ing as it was before; flames will be noth­ing but old lovers wel­comed back into a house haunt­ed by their absence. His ther­a­pist her­self said it: mean­ing can be found in chaos. It is, after all, nicer to see the glass half-emp­ty than to admit that there is no glass anymore.”

Deidre’s social media reads like a beau­ti­ful love let­ter to les­bian­ism, and their per­son­al work reflects their event­ful life—from a case of sex­u­al vio­lence in Deidre’s child­hood to mar­ry­ing their pla­ton­ic part­ner. Fer­rars & Fields talks to Dei­dre about queer love and its part in the process of heal­ing from sex­u­al trauma.

Foto: mo eid

“What am I in the eyes of most people—a nonen­ti­ty, an eccen­tric or an unpleas­ant person—somebody who has no posi­tion in soci­ety and nev­er will have, in short, the low­est of the low. All right, then—even if that were absolute­ly true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccen­tric, such a nobody, has in his heart.”

Kann Lux­em­burgs “Rev­o­lu­tionäre Realpoli­tik,” beziehungsweise die Adap­tion des Kollek­tivs Ni Una Menos die Lösung des alten Gegen­satzes von Reform und Rev­o­lu­tion darstellen?

Foto: lisa vlasenko

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 — durch einzi­gar­tige, indi­vidu­elle und wis­senschaftlich unter­baute Perspektiven. 

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