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.
Come for the crip ingenuity; stay for the smooth feels of what it is to be each other’s everything.
An original and beautifully simple performed installation forging a direct link between sound and image.
Sparse and miniature free thought workouts involving guitar, vocals and tuba.
Shutter Interface is an expanded cinema piece: a series of machinegun bursts of chromatic relationships and visual harmonics in an overwhelming montage
Jarringly beautiful and often maniacal expression of hallucinatory and very personal visions.
Power-electronic klutz behaviour indecipherable blasphemies, cuts, bruises and broken microphones by Kovorox Sound head-honcho Lea Cummings.
An extravagant debauch of plush toys and ritual. Palestine performed a version of Strumming Music, a trance inducing investigation into overtone systems achievable on a Bosendorfer Imperial Piano.
Somewhere between performance, stripped down theatre and an intense kind of public learning or maybe even a public hearing.
The first of two short film programmes featuring works that blur the boundaries between music and film from artists who cross and redefine those long held divisions. This programme focuses on the forebearers of filmic and musical innovation over the last 70 years.
An excavation of the 1805 Lock Hospital in Glasgow. Its official function was to support ‘unfortunate females with venereal disease’, but really what happened was that women and girls were marched in, experimented on, and often never released.
Mashed up queer fantasy of worker’s revolts, biblical demons and present-day hells, and dubbed out cyborg-electro.
Join Brian as he ruminates on the history of how experimental filmmakers and sound artists have drifted into and taken over galleries in order to show their work.
