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.
Sonic ‘observations’ of the world, through micro recordings on a tiny scale and transformed into something musically compelling.
Includes: a classic of innovative computer graphics, ex-pat Scot McLaren on form, a riotous psychedelic oil show with a Soft Machine accompaniment, subtle manipulation of data feedback, a colourful road movie and a reworking of a lost Paul Sharits film.
GIO’s bottomless throat, Blood Stereo’s slobber gobbler and the Mouth Of The South tangle tonsils over Steve McCaffrey’s Carnival
We asked Christoph to come and give a sort of informal talk, raising some of his ideas about sound and image, and playing/ showing a few examples.
A performance, a radio show, an installation, an endurance test. A game of chance. Constantly broadcasting live, actor Tam Dean Burn will leave Tramway at the start of INSTAL and walk away from it, in an ever increasing spiral, for a day. Then he’ll walk back.
A collaboration bringing together artists with a shared gravitational heft to their work; an intense and concentrated accumulation of detail and power.
A film installation as both allegory and investigation of The Rockridge Institute and their research into ‘framing’ and the use of metaphor within political discourse.
Torrential, wrenching wordless wails, guttural screams and roars, a Haino solo vocal performance.
The role of feelings in public life, (political) depression and creative survival.
A performed filmic conversation on queer and black world making.
A sort of prayer and conference, a sort of scream and dialogue – a monologue and declaration at the time, addressing how we can build complicity with one another.
MICRO 1 – Wrap a live microphone with a very large sheet of paper. Make a light bundle. Keep the microphone live for another 5 minutes. T. Kosugi – (1961)
