Masayoshi Urabe
Masayoshi Urabe
Tormented and drawn-out high-pitched yelps and drones, all interleaved with periods of torpid silence.
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.
Tormented and drawn-out high-pitched yelps and drones, all interleaved with periods of torpid silence.
With lo-fi dreams and high-def humor, Bande brings MC vibes to the day. Interluding music with spoken performance, the live extimacy of Bande’s presence reaches out via emo-techno-bridges.
Nothing if not repetitive, film is founded on the incremental succession of minute difference. But how does repetition of the same play out, and is it a tool to comment on the standardising repetition of the mass media?
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.
(Cyber)feminist, non-essentialist transgender and queer daily radio shows using the formula of morning radio as an arch way of thinking about the scripted behaviour and controlled empathy of systematic care.
For musical chameleon Richard Youngs both his creative and family life are focused in the room that many of us consider the centre piece of our lives.
Poetry of raw fearless truth and the realest crip insight fully embedded in absolute lyrical lounge.
How do we sense entanglement? Can the knotting of ropes according to a poem’s rhythm make the social pulse of language matter?
An occasion for commotion, and a chorus of motions. Choreography rotating your revolutions and then some.
Jandek’s second ever live performance, and the first to be advertised in advance.
A temporary archive and research space tracing the ways in which sound and audition move through everyday life.
A chat, with examples (Zola, H. P. Lovecraft, Hammer Horror), about blackness and the sheer stupid thickness of what has no profundity whatsoever.