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 beautifully crisp, slowly evolving duo for cello and projected images. Abstract but still figurative; change only noticeable after the fact.
The pieces in the programme switch between silent film/ imageless sound, but we wanted to have a think about how ideas can take up residency on either side of the sound/ image border, without having to inhabit both at the same time.
A programme that looks at how sound and image can be treated as variants in a collection of ordered objects; at how to create meaning from the similar, and to notice difference.
A fulcrum to the Japanese noise scene, JOJO Hiroshige has been responsible for much of the explosion of free music coming from Japan in the last 30 years.
Location: Around and about the old public library in Easterhouse; disinvested in and left to rot by the council but which was shamelessly, hastily and superficially cleaned by them in expectation of our event.
Complexly interacting colossal drones by the creator of some of the most legendary yet least heard music of the 70’s.
Three days of discussions, performances, actions, dancing and food – continuing No Total’s ongoing contemplation of ways of being together and the ways Arika have been entangled in those, ever since Episode 4.
Can we use sound, repetition and difference to personally and collectively engage with space, time and labour?
A parody of a (Manhattan) road movie and meditation on bifurcation, in paths traveled between the seen and the heard; a road trip played over and over from different perspectives.
From really simple, open instructions, An Unrhymed Chord creates a kind of half-way point between composition and improvisation.
How do poetry and maths stitch together pictures of our fractured situation from its wreckage and relics, from the debris of hope and the well of residues that make us what we are?
A chat, with examples (Zola, H. P. Lovecraft, Hammer Horror), about blackness and the sheer stupid thickness of what has no profundity whatsoever.
