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.
Originally billed as a duo of Ingar Zach and Derek Bailey, John Butcher stood in for Bailey at the last minute.
A workshop inviting participants to enact a series of scores that explore witnessing, testimony, grief and mourning, facilitated by Mezna and Sadia, and accompanied by Sakina Ali.
Dir. Nicolas Philibert
Documentary of La Borde clinic in France and its radical politics of experimentation, in which residents and staff reciprocate in a kind of entanglement, an opening up amongst themselves.
Out holler/ howl of English pukenoise posterboys exploded by incessant insect chatter of Northern fug dweller.
A short chat about what we (Arika) might be trying to do with our program for the Biennial.
Julius’ “small music” features simple snatches of found sound, played back through small speakers, often set in bowls of pigment and dirt which shimmies in the vibrations.
A series of reality dramas happening over the course of the weekend.
Jandek’s second ever live performance, and the first to be advertised in advance.
Hartmut is going to talk a little about his work at large and the politics of how his films are constructed. And we’ll screen one of his best films: B-52.
Journalist and underground music champion Alan Cummings talks to Keiji Haino about his career and his performance the previous evening.
A dense materialist experience at the limits of contemporary computer music, drawing on Korean Shamanism and Communism; striving to create a strange new vibration to the world that seems to contain the seed of everything.
Stripping back the domesticated ‘meaning’ of (everyday, mundane, kitchen) tools to reveal “a lexicon of rage and frustration.” Plus an allegorical use of mundane, everyday things as an examination of how meaning is constructed in film.
