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.
Work for cello, percussion, contra bassoon and cherbulum commissioned for Instal in collaboration with Paragon
Out holler/ howl of English pukenoise posterboys exploded by incessant insect chatter of Northern fug dweller.
I wanna be with you everywhere was a gathering of, by, and for disabled artists and writers and anyone who wanted to get with us for a series of crip meet-ups, performances, readings and other social spaces of surplus, abundance and joy.
Michael Colligan pressing white hot metal into dry ice, causing the metal to sing and scream.
Offering 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. Expect fire and a little bit of smoke. Concluding with a D/deaf centered social space with conversational interpreters available for those who do not speak ASL.
Daniel Carter & Sabir Mateen’s trio with percussionist Andrew Barker; incessantly driving forward through sweat-drenched bursts of pure ecstatic freedom.
Our favourite Lancashire-born autodictact asks what’s political about the tension between the individual and the collective in free jazz.
Chip will read some of his great literary pornography, which pushes sexuality to the point of extremity and exhaustion.
A changing pool of people (40 or so at a time – artists, audiences, etc) talk for 90 minutes in a simultaneous series of open-ended round-table discussions, structured like speed dating, and mixed live as both a concert and for radio broadcast.
UK conceptual/ drone/ noise artist, who is seriously posing what might seem to be unanswerable questions of music.
Work that focuses in on the static hiss and background noise of recording and pushes it to the fore.
An utterly deep introspection told in aching, weeping guitar lines; melodic, simple, always minimal but somehow entirely epic.
