Shadowed Spaces
There exist places in our towns and cities that are created not by design, but by circumstance. Shadowed Spaces was a tour of overlooked, bypassed and unconsidered nooks and crannies with 3 musicians.
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.
There exist places in our towns and cities that are created not by design, but by circumstance. Shadowed Spaces was a tour of overlooked, bypassed and unconsidered nooks and crannies with 3 musicians.
How can we imagine bodies not as an end in themselves, but as a medium through which we can become one another’s means?
The 2006 INSTAL festival saw a broad selection of artists that included Blood Stereo and Ludo Mich, Ellen Fullman and Sean Meehan, Keiji Haino and Tony Conrad and a specially created performance by Maryanne Amacher.
Brother and sister stumble over the early morning horizon in a spectral haze of emotionally devastating lunar vocals and oblique, lithium-soaked folk.
Harrowing but musical confrontations with the very real, physical and aural trauma of a woman screaming.
Rather than asking the state for services, what kinds of change are made possible when we prioritise people supporting each other?
Journalist and underground music champion Alan Cummings talks to Keiji Haino about his career and his performance the previous evening.
A 100 strong Feral Choir of people who’ve never improvised with their voices before, conducted by composer Phil Minton.
A community of those without community, for a community to come. A schizo-scenic video-collage of the disturbing ‘normality’ of Moby Dick.
Thirty lucky Instal punters experience Kylie’s pre-match aggro workout one-on-one in the darkness of an Arches dressing room.
Black-clad with an ominous aura created by their distorted guitar epics, burnt-out ballads and raucous mantric jams.
An utterly deep introspection told in aching, weeping guitar lines; melodic, simple, always minimal but somehow entirely epic.