Koji Asano
Koji Asano
Koji Asano, Japanese composer and sound-artist performing slow groaning burbling tones, moaning echoes and drones.
Arika have been creating events since 2001. The Archive is space to share the documentation of our work, over 600 events from the past 20 years. Browse the archive by event, artists and collections, explore using theme pairs, or use the index for a comprehensive overview.
Koji Asano, Japanese composer and sound-artist performing slow groaning burbling tones, moaning echoes and drones.
Join Umbrella Lane and special guest migrant trans sex workers in a community discussion about the points of intersection in LGBT people’s rights and sex worker’s rights.
Thinking against the monoculturalism of Western thought—of faith, affection, sexuality and gender—which completely lacks any utility to, or descriptive value of Indigenous worldviews.
The ongoing development of [b]reach, an abolitionist black queer retelling of Marge Piercy’s incredible feminist utopian novel Woman on the Edge of Time.
Renouncing the bind of the written word, Chopin’s sound poetry is a magical evocation of the pure powers of the voices, stripped bare of language.
Dual projections of pulsating shards of film, treated in crystallized salts and dyes merge with the whirring of projectors, distilled into particles of sound.
Like walking through the abstracted amalgamation of 30 or so storms, trays of water shaken by thunder, light bouncing off pools.
Everyday objects and materials (rubber bands, paper, a sink, microphones) disabused of their inertia and made to speak for themselves in a kind of focusing in on the tiny, repetitive, almost unobserved (sonic/ visual) potential of everyday things put into motion.
60 cycle hums, jagged static cracklings, and clipped electron pinpricks, mutating them into sublime, post-techno grooves
The mutability of the body and the mobility of identity: queered pop culture, drag, lip-sync and performance.
Introducing and setting intentions for a crip grief transformation and witness altar. A place to sit and breathe, remember our dead, wash our hands and leave offerings to and for loved ones we’ve lost – and for ourselves.
How can we imagine bodies not as an end in themselves, but as a medium through which we can become one another’s means?