
Noises Off
Matthieu Saladin
A kind of performed installation of searing noise and silence, where we’re not sure who the performer is, when it starts or ends or even who it’s for.
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 kind of performed installation of searing noise and silence, where we’re not sure who the performer is, when it starts or ends or even who it’s for.
Our favourite Lancashire-born autodictact asks what’s political about the tension between the individual and the collective in free jazz.
The second of two short film programmes featuring works that blur the boundaries between music and film from artists who cross and redefine those long held divisions. This programme highlights contemporary works.
I wanna be with you everywhere was a gathering of, by, and for disabled artists and writers and anyone who wanted to get with us for a series of crip meet-ups, performances, readings and other social spaces of surplus, abundance and joy.
A 3-day exploration – through performance, screenings and discussion – of the art and politics of wayward communities who refuse to be bound by the fictions of race and sex.
Performances at CCA Glasgow by Keiji Haino, My Cat Is An Alien, Taurpis Tula, Jandek with Richard Youngs and Alex Neilson.
A simple, gracefully bold set-up to allow Loïc to trace connections: of comments upon comments upon comments, of sounds next to sounds next to sounds.
Introducing and setting intentions for 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.
Whether drawing their own fractured, abstract narrative, or re-contextualising, chewing up and spitting out someone else’s, each of the films here take a dramatic arc as their starting point and throw it to the wind.
Emotional fantasies, towers of cakes, identity troubles, collapsed distance and time and Samuel R. Delany’s rarely seen 1971 film The Orchid.
Shutter Interface is an expanded cinema piece: a series of machinegun bursts of chromatic relationships and visual harmonics in an overwhelming montage
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?