Kazuo Imai & Atsuhiro Ito
Atsuhiro Ito Kazuo Imai
A loud, buzzing stew of electrical light as noise and convulsive electric guitar squall.
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 loud, buzzing stew of electrical light as noise and convulsive electric guitar squall.
Torrential, wrenching wordless wails, guttural screams and roars, a Haino solo vocal performance.
What to do about a telethon other than fuck it up? Poet, tarotist, artist, and librarian Cyrée Jarelle Johnson returns to IWBWYE to read the 1980s and ’90s for what those decades were: practice for now.
Can a collective performance of NourbeSe’s poem of black life as it exceeds containment enact alternative forms of selfhood that emerge in and out of African diasporic experience?
A carefully thought out, simple but rich performance using just a turntable, teach yourself foreign language LP’s, the impeccable timing of a percussionist, and an idea.
Originally billed as a duo of Ingar Zach and Derek Bailey, John Butcher stood in for Bailey at the last minute.
Profound mathematical ideas for romantics, to help us linger in the difference we share.
When one calls a strike, who hears the call, who attunes and listens to it? How to listen to the call of a strike? What prevents one from hearing this call or stops one from listening to it?
Free-jazz chat with Sabir Mateen, Daniel Cater, Andrew Barker – hosted by Byron Coley.
In Ramayya’s visionary poetry, the body assumes as many forms as love produces states: attraction and repulsion, excitement and exhaustion, selfishness and the dissolution of self.
Fernando thinks that when maths is deep, it should be simple and able to be explained by hand gestures. By embodying ideas, we’re able to more clearly think about their cultural implications.
A film performance about Guy then, and Guy now, as a metaphor for the passing of time, which of course all film is inherently about.