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 informal conversation, over breakfast, about how abolition and movement work structures Mijke and Nat’s approach to transfeminism, ahead of their new book Trans Femme Futures.
Imagery, drawn from what seems like hundreds of different films is overlaid and combined in a promissory rainbow of new meanings and impossible scenarios, with the unsettling feel of daylight shadows.
Kenneth Goldsmith reads extracts of his conceptual poetry and Achim Wollscheid manipulates mobile phone signals.
Poems are kisses, fists, and underground rivers. For all these reasons and many more, I am a poet.
Solo by Jean-Philippe Gross, a French electro-acoustic improviser, working with mixing board, cheap mics, small speakers and an analog synth, built around a honed interest in feedback.
Investigate film as language, via the language of film reduced to the basic units of film and language. A film as text in which each frame is a single word.
Dir: Maurizio Lazzarato & Angela Melitopoulos
A filmic constellation exploring Felix Guattari’s anti-patriarchal, anti-colonialist, anti-psychiatric, animist ideas of care and the self. And an Introduction to the Episode.
Inspired by Delany’s Aye, and Gomorra. A spookily filmic world where asexual bodies live in the contradiction of their unarousable loneliness and desire for intimacy and contact.
Paul Sharits is one of our all time heroes, and one of the great artist filmmakers of the 20th Century.
Whether drawing their own fractured, abstract narrative, or re-contextualising, chewing up and spitting out someone else’s, each of the films here take a dramatic arc as their starting point and throw it to the wind.
Los Glissandinos work with clarinet and sine tones beating and thrumming in your middle ear, all beautifully paced and serene, but with just enough steely menace broiling under the surface to keep you on edge.
Dworkin asks: What would a non-expressive poetry look like? A poetry of intellect rather than emotion?
