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 glance at both analogue and digital processes; the clarity and precision of digital colour or the yawning, endless depth of dye and emulsion, our programme celebrates how both approaches revel in colour, saturation, hue and tone.
Dub is strange. A conversation with Edward George and Dhanveer Brar.
(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.
Chip will read some of his great literary pornography, which pushes sexuality to the point of extremity and exhaustion.
How can we imagine bodies not as an end in themselves, but as a medium through which we can become one another’s means?
A chorister attempting to sing Vivaldi, with live accompaniment, while trampolining for 20 minutes.
John Butcher plays and manipulates a feeding back saxophone. Benedict Drew on electronics, broken cables and standing waves.
A chat with Eugene Thacker. Can we rethink the world as unthinkable, and without us?
Stripping back the domesticated ‘meaning’ of (everyday, mundane, kitchen) tools to reveal “a lexicon of rage and frustration.” Plus an allegorical use of mundane, everyday things as an examination of how meaning is constructed in film.
Three intimate 45 minute sessions, reading your political questions – using Tarot, Palmistry, Reiki, Astrology, and Philosophy, and the invented methods of Fake and Political Therapy.
Beatriz will explore her thinking, on film as translation, plural subjectivity or land-based militancy. Discussion will centre around her work Oriana and its companion piece Oenanthe, which will be screened in full.
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.
