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.
A queer black operatic requiem for piano and voice that asks us to stay in the hold of the slave ship, that tries to understand the connection from the slave ship to the prison.
Juliana’s performances chart the dissonant space and discrepancy between the presumed fixed norms of social life and the fluid lived experience those norms don’t allow for.
Rhodri Davies plays two deconstructed harps. Lee Patterson examines the sonic properties of burning nuts.
Conceived of as a dual publication, video cassette and booklet, to be presented as an installation. The content of the videotape is the artist watching television.
A freestyle performed conversation for bodies and voices – with the Queen of Krump, the master of Vogue Femme Dramatics and the rising star of Vogue Women’s Performance.
The worlds leading radio art station brings you: a performance, a radio show, an installation, an endurance test.
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.
Although Tony had visited Haino in Japan, and they played together in private, this was the first time anyone other that Haino’s cat saw them perform together.
Kenneth Goldsmith reads extracts of his conceptual poetry and Achim Wollscheid manipulates mobile phone signals.
Goofily deformed, deeply thought vocal jams: like the sound of your own breath rushing through your head.
Low-end drone guitarage army since 1997: nobody has done more on this occasion by a gaggle of sludge-lovers from the Scottish underground.
An contradictory guitarist, he’s equally at home in slow, halting acoustic improvisation or piercing minimal examinations of electric guitar.
