
Self Cancellation – Dry Ice With Metal
Michael Colligan
Michael Colligan pressing white hot metal into dry ice, causing the metal to sing and scream.
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.
Michael Colligan pressing white hot metal into dry ice, causing the metal to sing and scream.
Blood Stereo & Ludo Mich: linking past and present generations of DIY intuitive expression in a post fluxus ‘big mess’.
Harrowing but musical confrontations with the very real, physical and aural trauma of a woman screaming.
Jandek’s first ever live performance. Unannounced, the performance was a total surprise for everybody at the festival.
NVA asked Arika to curate and programme the sound aspects of their 2007 Half-Life production in Kilmartin Glen. Arika worked with Toshiya Tsunoda, Lee Patterson, Rhodri Davies and Angharad Davies.
Austrian guitarist who specialises in a warm digital deconstruction of guitar noise
Tormented and drawn-out high-pitched yelps and drones, all interleaved with periods of torpid silence.
A glance at both analogue and digital processes; the clarity and precision of digital colour or the yawning, endless depth of dye and emulsion, our programme celebrates how both approaches revel in colour, saturation, hue and tone.
Andrew Chalk & Christoph Heemann return with their diaphanous, impressionistic drone duo; their slowly evolving and enthralling works flutter and quiver with elegantly restrained, miniature sound events.
A performative survey of listening, as we managed to find it being used as a tool in different practices, disciplines and communities in North America (music, poetry, film, philosophy, activism…).
What does it mean to listen with the mind as well as the ears? A solo performance from the great avant-garde pianist.
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.