FACT
Craig Dworkin
Dworkin asks: What would a non-expressive poetry look like? A poetry of intellect rather than emotion?
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.
Dworkin asks: What would a non-expressive poetry look like? A poetry of intellect rather than emotion?
An assembly to try and provide some experiential and theoretical resources for the renewal of a certain affective, extra-political sociality, in the face of one of our great adversaries; the forces of colonial, imperial, genocidal denial.
Guitar solo where inscrutable, minute electric sounds are excavated by palms that smother and strangle, that wring sound from the fretboard, from behind the bridge.
Introducing and setting intentions for a crip grief transformation and witness altar. A place to sit and breathe, remember our dead, wash our hands and leave offerings to and for loved ones we’ve lost – and for ourselves.
First in a series of workshops for workers and non-workers who care. Does work that asks us to be attentive to the needs of others force us to sell our capacity for kindness?
An evening of live performances, readings & saucy rococo cakes celebrating the launch of Truth and Lies – An Anthology of Writing and Art by Sex Workers.
Individual experience separated by physical boundaries (of space, time or ability) suggested as communities of collective experience by (perhaps voyeuristic) artists.
Poems are kisses, fists, and underground rivers. For all these reasons and many more, I am a poet.
As opposed to suggesting soundtrack’s to Brakhage’s works [which are almost entirely silent] Text of Light use his works to stimulate improvisation, enveloping them into the structure of the group much like an additional musician.
A community of those without community, for a community to come. A schizo-scenic video-collage of the disturbing ‘normality’ of Moby Dick.
Goofily deformed, deeply thought vocal jams: like the sound of your own breath rushing through your head.
4 days of performances, discussions, workshops, screenings with mutant dancers, prison abolitionist poets, transfeminist revolutionaries, haunted noise, science fiction, sex worker resistance, crip erotics, radical pornography and militant fiction.