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.
A stroboscopic and intense sensory overload of flashing abstract forms, cut to ribbons by modified projectors.
An evening extravaganza celebrating the London launch of Truth & Lies: an Anthology of Writing and Art by Sex Workers
Expect slutty DJs, playful performances, stripper poles, rococo cakes, union broads and intimate readings…
Each organ is unique. The project is to find out what makes it unique.
An LSD trip gone right via dense explorations of post-Fahey steel and low level drone.
Two bottomless brunch writing workshops—with readings—speculating the relationship between space, infrastructure, technologies and sex.
A speculative narrative film informed by poetry and theories of quantum entanglement across diasporic distance. An intimate exploration of grief and resistance in shifting landscapes of loss, from the streets to the bed.
The final iteration of Arika’s INSTAL festivals, the 2010 edition was an experimental festival of experimental music – 3 days of events at the Tramway that explored un-average ideas about sound and music.
A carefully thought out, simple but rich performance using just a turntable, teach yourself foreign language LP’s, the impeccable timing of a percussionist, and an idea.
Junko’s screaming vocal in a nuanced, piercing duo with Urabe’s fuming and convulsive saxophone, far removed from the codes of musical tradition.
A beautifully crisp, slowly evolving duo for cello and projected images. Abstract but still figurative; change only noticeable after the fact.
Tiny fragments of sound recombined and woven into spare and precise, violent yet beautiful pieces
Simple maths and stringent scored instructions move precise frequencies and clicks to create a dense, fluctuating environment of standing waves and physical sound.
