Cyrée Jarelle Johnson
Cyrée Jarelle Johnson
Poetry of raw fearless truth and the realest crip insight fully embedded in absolute lyrical lounge.
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Poetry of raw fearless truth and the realest crip insight fully embedded in absolute lyrical lounge.
Includes: solar flares, insect fireworks, a new film from Ian Helliwell, pulsating glaciers, an apple being eaten alive, sea ravaged stock, crushed blackberries and film that has literally risen from the grave.
Film and sound stripped of ‘content’ and experienced spatially, to be looked at not on the screen but in the space of the gallery
A performance for dry ice and four specially constructed steel tables, each one heated by a single candle until searingly hot.
Solo organ performance by German composer Eva-Maria Houben, which focuses on ‘nearly nothing’ to expand the way we listen.
This mini, late-night ball will include categories inspired by the events earlier in the weekend.
An improvisation that may or may not involve (typical) improvisation.
“Hidden in the hands an alluvial transcription of reach and embrace. The final flickers of the body’s expression, caress and touch.” – boychild
Poems are kisses, fists, and underground rivers. For all these reasons and many more, I am a poet.
The films in the programme take the essential and fundamental building blocks of cinema (combining sound and image through time) screw about with them, interrogate them and cast them anew.
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.
Ex-Decaer Pinga and CKDH rodeo queens; regular ladynoise hoedown gets gatecrashed by sonic chunder-huffing remedial clatter boys.