Coffee, Croissants and Massage
Five Rivers Massage
Coffee, Croissants & Massage – a welcoming breakfast for all with massage by qualified massage therapists present to give hand & head massages.
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.
Coffee, Croissants & Massage – a welcoming breakfast for all with massage by qualified massage therapists present to give hand & head massages.
Tormented and drawn-out high-pitched yelps and drones, all interleaved with periods of torpid silence.
Chris Corsano, Akio Suzuki and John Butcher performing in the Hamilton Mausoleum, Hamilton.
Come for the crip ingenuity; stay for the smooth feels of what it is to be each other’s everything.
Bringing together artists working with music, sound, film and the moving image, KYTN 2008 saw performances, improvisations, screenings and installations over three days at DCA.
A film performance about Guy then, and Guy now, as a metaphor for the passing of time, which of course all film is inherently about.
Do almost nothing: re-present (unaltered and arranged by chance) silent family home movies handed down to Flo, (Ken’s wife) and follow them with a “teach yourself Yiddish” cassette tape.
Series of short sets by Acid Mothers Temple / Ruins offshoots Zubi Zuva X, Akaten & Zoffy.
Three (thankfully short) chats wherein we try and get at what’s eating us with regards to experimental music, and what we think might be worth salvaging.
What’s the relationship between the eternal hum of the oceanic beloved and the persistence of vorticity in fluid dynamics? And how does Alice Coltrane’s harp help us stay there?
Hijokaidan rapidly built a following due to the overwhelmingly physical intensity of their live performances, often involving destructive onstage rituals of vomit, urine, mangled guitars and ear shredding volume.
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.