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.
Music is full of refracted brass and wind tones, distorted tape loops, dead silent air and the occasional piercing shard of sound.
Imagery, drawn from what seems like hundreds of different films is overlaid and combined in a promissory rainbow of new meanings and impossible scenarios, with the unsettling feel of daylight shadows.
An invitation into languages field of touch; to speak in feeling together.
Setting up a minimal procedure to explore the interaction between a person and the (documentary) film/ video process. What initially seems simple ends up contrarily distanced and intimate, public and private.
Using violin and cello the duo map out a twilight sonic world that seems to tread the faultlines between improvisation and composition.
In this workshop we will imagine ourselves as time travellers from a glorious and chaotic neurodivergent-led future.
Craig will give a guided reading of his handbook of exemplary instances of literary listening and will be joined by one of the selected authors, Vanessa Place.
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.
A movement-based workshop on Krump and the politics of how we teach, learn and listen with our bodies. Move with us!
A kind of performed installation of searing noise and silence, where we’re not sure who the performer is, when it starts or ends or even who it’s for.
Ever changing coven of feedback worshipping witches led by Blood Stereo/ Smack Music 7 shrieker Karen Constance spit audio hexes through yr skulls.
Christian Bök‘s work spans thrillingly conceptual poetry to body-shaking vocal performances.
