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.
One of the most compelling Indigenous voices of her generation discusses practices of Indigenous Resurgence drawn from Nishnaabeg poetic knowledge.
Writing that shows us that, even in struggle, there is light to be let in.
Individual experience separated by physical boundaries (of space, time or ability) suggested as communities of collective experience by (perhaps voyeuristic) artists.
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.
Terry is one of the most entertaining and unpredictable musicians in the London free improvising music scene. Rhodri Davies extends his instrument under a battery of techniques creating sound colours and textures quite alien to the harp.
Each film in this programme celebrates process; the decay of emulsion, the properties of dust and dirt, the manipulation of time. Post the dawn of the digital age, we reflect on our love of the film form, celluloid as an object, a medium and a physical entity.
Jandek’s second ever live performance, and the first to be advertised in advance.
A temporary archive and research space tracing the ways in which sound and audition move through everyday life.
Freeform Super 8mm documentation of Sunday at Instal 06 by filmmaker Matt Hulse.
A programme of discontinuity between narration, text and image. Including Manual Saiz’s employment of John Malkovich’s Spanish dubbing double and Peter Rose’s absurdly hilarious concrete poetry subtitling chaos.
Sean and Taku share an interest in structure, space and time. A spartan, abstract, considered and surprisingly musical set.
Los Glissandinos work with clarinet and sine tones beating and thrumming in your middle ear, all beautifully paced and serene, but with just enough steely menace broiling under the surface to keep you on edge.
