Where Good Souls Fear
Alice Sheppard
An occasion for commotion, and a chorus of motions. Choreography rotating your revolutions and then some.
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.
An occasion for commotion, and a chorus of motions. Choreography rotating your revolutions and then some.
A bodiless treatise on narration, bored speakers, audience misbehaviour and police megaphones, but: is anybody listening?
A film performance about Guy then, and Guy now, as a metaphor for the passing of time, which of course all film is inherently about.
A double bill of A (imageless) film of nothing but a sound recording and its transcription and a found film of news interviews about Malcolm X’s assasination, where the filmmaker decided to add nothing to it, except our attention.
Elizabeth’s writing pulls apart toxic settler colonialism and the worldview used to justify it; working towards an alternative distribution of powers, so that ways of being otherwise can endure.
Umeda is a Japanese artist who is as fascinated in setting up interesting situations to observe, as he is in creating performances.
Simple maths and stringent scored instructions move precise frequencies and clicks to create a dense, fluctuating environment of standing waves and physical sound.
Guitar solo where inscrutable, minute electric sounds are excavated by palms that smother and strangle, that wring sound from the fretboard, from behind the bridge.
Dir. Nicolas Philibert
Documentary of La Borde clinic in France and its radical politics of experimentation, in which residents and staff reciprocate in a kind of entanglement, an opening up amongst themselves.
Glasgow. Low-end drone guitarage army in praise of the open chord.
Quasi-theatrical multiple-projector pieces play with the relationship between performers, art and audiences.
Dworkin asks: What would a non-expressive poetry look like? A poetry of intellect rather than emotion?