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.
Disused railway turning circle at east end of Union Terrace Gardens, a historically public space at the centre of a regeneration land-grab for the private gain of a local petro-chemical magnate.
Avant-wrongdoers Blood Stereo performing in Garthamlock the town spawned them.
Copying without Copying is 3 evenings of events that are about what happens when we speak, or when we hear someone speak on our behalf, when we share a collective moment of hearing and maybe understanding.
Simple maths and stringent scored instructions move precise frequencies and clicks to create a dense, fluctuating environment of standing waves and physical sound.
Inspired by the supernatural horror of H. P. Lovecraft, black metal and a sense of worry as to what constitutes an object, or a world.
Seven women recite monologues composed from texts from the vibrant years of the Weimar Republic. A kind of cultural echo: an experience of histories brought to the present.
Poems are kisses, fists, and underground rivers. For all these reasons and many more, I am a poet.
UK conceptual/ drone/ noise artist, who is seriously posing what might seem to be unanswerable questions of music.
Hartmut is going to talk a little about his work at large and the politics of how his films are constructed. And we’ll screen one of his best films: B-52.
US percussionist, poet, sound artist and instrument maker performing on self-made instruments constructed from industrial materials such as stainless steel, titanium, PVC plastics and various kinds of pipe.
Glasgow. Free-playing quartet of bass/ cello/ voice from The Glasgow Improvisors Orchestra and Age Of Wire & String.
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.
