
Eject & No Disc
Matthieu Saladin
French improviser, composer, writer & musical thinker of dry humour and elegant clarity. Sly conjurer of music from the unconsidered processes of music making.
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.
French improviser, composer, writer & musical thinker of dry humour and elegant clarity. Sly conjurer of music from the unconsidered processes of music making.
Cask-strength electrohypnol/ shroom damaged folk croonings by Lapsed Electronics empire builder responsible for recent Tremors blowouts.
A kind of audience activating, structured film guessing game in the manipulation of time, sound and image. “At 11:15, weiners. At 21:05, pornography. At 23:30, a duet. Watch the Clock.”
The first of two workshops that highlight correspondence as a way of working. Somewhere between song, speech, and logistical arrangement, these workshops invite participants to consider care as infrastructure.
Recently rediscovered but still very pertinent, Kino Beleške presents a series of speech acts and performative gestures by protagonists of the new artistic practice in former Yugoslavia: each a personal take on the role of art in society.
Originally billed as a duo of Ingar Zach and Derek Bailey, John Butcher stood in for Bailey at the last minute.
An open collaborative workshop space in which games, warm-up sessions, exercises and scenes are potentially the same thing, through which to project your own concerns onto the stage.
In which Storyboard P and members of Project X pick a song, freestyle to it, chat with us about what dancing means to them, then pick another song, freestyle, chat, repeat…
Mirror and Phantom Engineer performing an improvised soundtrack to Benjamin Christensen’s 1922 horror film prototype, Haxan: Witchcraft through the Ages.
Robin Hayward – exploring the micro-sounds of a tuba, filling slowly with sand.
Offering 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. Expect fire and a little bit of smoke. Concluding with a D/deaf centered social space with conversational interpreters available for those who do not speak ASL.
Junko’s screaming vocal in a nuanced, piercing duo with Urabe’s fuming and convulsive saxophone, far removed from the codes of musical tradition.