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.
How do we gesture to the invisible, the trans or the obscure? A performative conversation between boychild and Fernando, a sharing of gestures, and a bodily back and forth between mathematician and dance artist.
How do communities practice being one another’s means, addressing their material problems facing them replicating the state’s violent logic of who is disposable.
This session focuses in on the defiant mutual aid practices of early and DIY feminist movements in the UK, that attempted to shift and radicalise care and kinship away from the domain of the nuclear family.
Akio Suzuki and John Butcher performing in an abandoned oil tanker on Hoy.
A loud, buzzing stew of electrical light as noise and convulsive electric guitar squall.
4 days of performances, discussions, workshops, screenings with mutant dancers, prison abolitionist poets, transfeminist revolutionaries, haunted noise, science fiction, sex worker resistance, crip erotics, radical pornography and militant fiction.
A short chat about what we (Arika) might be trying to do with our program for the Biennial.
Somewhere between performance, stripped down theatre and an intense kind of public learning or maybe even a public hearing.
Organised by Twiggy Pucci Garcon and Pony Zion, The Masters Ball focuses on the work of 50 individuals designated within the scene as ‘masters’ in their respective performance categories, which include Vogue, Runway, and Face.
Goofily deformed, deeply thought vocal jams: like the sound of your own breath rushing through your head.
A kind of audience activating, structured film guessing game in the manipulation of time, sound and image. “At 11:15, weiners. At 21:05, pornography. At 23:30, a duet. Watch the Clock.”
Offering a crip grief transformation and witness altar. A place to sit and breathe, remember our dead, wash our hands and leave offerings to and for loved ones we’ve lost – and for ourselves. Expect fire and a little bit of smoke. Concluding with a D/deaf centered social space with conversational interpreters available for those who do not speak ASL.
