My Dog Is My Piano
Antonia Baehr
An audio/ video, lecture/ performance exploring the queer and companionly inter-activity of human-animal relations.
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 audio/ video, lecture/ performance exploring the queer and companionly inter-activity of human-animal relations.
A celebration of our overabundant social entanglement and complicity, that remind us of how we can see ourselves, stripped of powers’ attempts to grasp us.
A fully transcribed, described, and open-captioned film screening that’s nothing short of their actual open heart.
A performance by Storyboard P – one of the greatest Afrofuturist dancers on the planet.
Personal Spaces: inversion of a territorial bell, confusing the realms between rehearsal and performance, public and private space.
An original and beautifully simple performed installation forging a direct link between sound and image.
A programme of discontinuity between narration, text and image. Including Manual Saiz’s employment of John Malkovich’s Spanish dubbing double and Peter Rose’s absurdly hilarious concrete poetry subtitling chaos.
When one calls a strike, who hears the call, who attunes and listens to it? How to listen to the call of a strike? What prevents one from hearing this call or stops one from listening to it?
Power-electronic klutz behaviour indecipherable blasphemies, cuts, bruises and broken microphones by Kovorox Sound head-honcho Lea Cummings.
In many ways, this Episode is our attempt to engage with Fred’s incredible writing: with his proposal that all black performance (culture, politics, sexuality, identity, and blackness itself) is improvisation.
A solo improvisation using just the situation of the concert: a space, a PA, Mattin’s own thoughts, you, the audience.
Goofily deformed, deeply thought vocal jams: like the sound of your own breath rushing through your head.