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 system in which film is projected onto copper strips, captured again and then re-projected as video, somehow transforming the original imagery into molasses-slow, molten and incredibly tactile flickers of colour and light.
In a moment of social exhaustion, we want to ask how we might care for each other differently. We Can’t Live Without Our Lives is a 5-day exploration of care as a form of struggle and resistance, with communities who embody it.
Come for the crip ingenuity; stay for the smooth feels of what it is to be each other’s everything.
Can our favourite Vegas-born poet of prophetic blackness and a South Central transmuter of social rage into beauty feel through each other?
Live ISDN drone performance resonating between Dundee and an empty Montreal Grain Silo.
A short chat about what we (Arika) might be trying to do with our program for the Biennial.
Rather than asking the state for services, what kinds of change are made possible when we prioritise people supporting each other?
Out of a dark haze, shafts of light emerge, as the emulsion is scratched from the surface of the film. Simultaneously, out of the black silence, noise and audible scratches bloom into a bright drone.
One of the most revered and legendary underground acts of the past 20+ years, Current 93 is the constantly evolving creation of David Tibet.
A collaborative duo performance, Anoyonodekigoto sets up a sort of negotiation between a musician, a dancer, the audience and the space we’re all sharing.
A 100 strong Feral Choir of people who’ve never improvised with their voices before, conducted by composer Phil Minton.
Investigate film as language, via the language of film reduced to the basic units of film and language. A film as text in which each frame is a single word.
