
Episode 3: Copying without Copying
Copying without Copying is 3 evenings of events that are about what happens when we speak, or when we hear someone speak on our behalf, when we share a collective moment of hearing and maybe understanding.
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.
Copying without Copying is 3 evenings of events that are about what happens when we speak, or when we hear someone speak on our behalf, when we share a collective moment of hearing and maybe understanding.
A panel exploring the poetics of abolition. “Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change.”
Instead of the one-way monologue of normal performance, what would be the result of an actual collective dialogue? Where would it go?
A recording session for BBC Radio Scotland under the M74 ‘Ski Jump’ extension ramp, a secion of motorway that doesn’t go anywhere, one of several such structures that populate the motorway system in the centre of Glasgow.
A somehow hyper-modern, ancient and folkloric lip-synced, made-up, fashioned performance.
Inspired by the supernatural horror of H. P. Lovecraft, black metal and a sense of worry as to what constitutes an object, or a world.
GIO’s bottomless throat, Blood Stereo’s slobber gobbler and the Mouth Of The South tangle tonsils over Steve McCaffrey’s Carnival
Some of the most breathtaking, delicate and smoke filled guitar playing this side of Loren Connors or the quieter sides of Keiji Haino.
Poems are kisses, fists, and underground rivers. For all these reasons and many more, I am a poet.
A festival hewn from passions for experimental music, film and visual art and for a passion in figuring out how they can relate to, cross-fertilise and inspire and each other.
Recently rediscovered but still very pertinent, Kino Beleške presents a series of speech acts and performative gestures by protagonists of the new artistic practice in former Yugoslavia: each a personal take on the role of art in society.
As opposed to suggesting soundtrack’s to Brakhage’s works [which are almost entirely silent] Text of Light use his works to stimulate improvisation, enveloping them into the structure of the group much like an additional musician.