Micky Arratoon

Well, Micky. So here we are. Let's start. I'm honored to be with you.

It’s my honor, Greta!

To get to know, finally, who you are and what you're doing. I saw that normally you're going to the spaces that are interesting to you. Now you're here at my space.

Very interesting to me—to be in your garden with you.

It's very underground, the garden. True. Before we dive into your biography and what you're doing, what I personally find interesting is: What do you think is a good space?

What makes a good space? Yeah. I don't want to sound too simple in the answer, but... Because I'm also interested in making events and hosting experiences, I’ve started calling it the practice of "hosted experiences"—which actually comes from Isabel Lewis, a really inspiring artist and teacher who was a professor at HGB these past few years. I think if I'm in a space and I can imagine something beyond what's happening in that moment—if I can imagine transforming it into something else—that’s what makes it special. Which isn’t great for mindfulness, maybe. But if I get inspired in there, you know? Sometimes it's something like the light in a space—I'm attracted to that. But more than anything, it's that feeling of, "Oh, this can really be transformed into something beyond the walls."

Is that more often the case in places that are not quite ready yet? Because when you're talking about potential and transformation, it seems like you’re drawn to places with room to grow. But can that go in the other direction too? Like, could you take a space that feels too polished and deconstruct it?

I think deconstruction is a really interesting practice too. And yeah, that's honestly why I'm interested more in spaces that are still developing or in transition. Spaces that aren’t perfect. Which was actually a big part of what attracted me to Leipzig in general when I first came here 10 years ago. You can be in a beautiful space that’s perfectly finished and imagine ways to make it feel a little more deconstructed and edgy. I really like things that are not perfect—like, I love the graffiti on all the buildings. I wish it was literally everywhere. Especially on new, freshly built modern buildings—when they get tagged, it makes them real. It breaks the sense of something being untouchable.

So that’s a bit of a deep dive into how you see the world. But let’s get into what you’re doing. What is it that you're working on?

I’ll answer that with eos archive as the focus, because I think most people reading this know me through that project. Even though I’m doing many other things, eos archive is about creating—at least for now—a digital record of spaces, organisers, and artists who are active in this scene in Leipzig. The independent or subcultural scene. I’ve used the word "subculture" a lot in the past few years, but it’s a word that’s been debated by people around me. We always discuss: is it the right term? I still like it, but you could also say independent, or artist-run, or alternative. There are many terms you could use. What it comes down to is: these are non-commercial spaces, often run by artists themselves or by people organizing events. I like finding out who’s running the space, what’s happening there, and documenting that—because there hasn’t been a system for preserving it until now.

How did this interest in preserving something that’s so temporary develop for you?

It started with the graphics. The flyers. I’ve always loved graffiti and tags, but also posters and flyers—some are for commercial events, but many are for underground things that don’t even include an address, or use a misspelled location on purpose. I love how colorful they are, how they make the city pop out at you. And the act of putting them up—getting info from these physical flyers, even though they get posted over really quickly. There's something about those thick layers of paper on the walls that I find beautiful.

So the starting point was physical material—flyers that you wanted to collect?

Yes. I wanted to preserve them, but I never started a physical collection. Most of the time they’re circulated digitally now. So I decided to collect and archive the images instead. I’ve always been into typography, font making, graphic design—how people present information. I wanted to preserve that. And then I realised: these graphics also contain useful information. They tell you where to go, what’s happening. That wasn’t my original intention, but it became a natural extension.

Do you remember the first flyer you collected or the first set you posted?

Yes. I was really nervous. I started the archive with a set of nine. It’s always been nine, because back then Instagram only allowed 10 images per post. So I thought: the first image can be a grid of the nine events, and the next nine images are each one individually. That filled up the 10-slide limit. I was so nervous about how people would respond. At first, I messaged for permission for each one: "If this isn’t okay, let me know and I’ll take it down." Because a lot of people don’t respond. You can go back and see that first post. Maybe I’ll reshare it with this interview. I was nervous because, like you said, is it something that should be preserved? Do people want this stuff out there? But I figured—if they posted it publicly, they must want people to see it. And the archive I’m building is a dedicated space for that. Pretty quickly I saw that people liked it. Maybe two people in the last few years have said no. That’s it.

There’s something unique about underground or non-commercial events—especially raves—where sometimes the flyer is the only form of promotion. And you don’t want it shared digitally because it might be illegal. You’re not aiming for 1000 people, just the right 100.

Yeah. That idea of “the right people” is really interesting. If you’re running a space that’s private, then I think you do have a right to choose who it’s for. But if you’re a public space trying to control exactly who shows up, that can become counterproductive. We don’t want to be gatekeeping or exclusionary. We don’t want fascists either—but if they come to an event, maybe they’ll be exposed to something that challenges their worldview.

You mentioned a few terms earlier—independent, alternative, subculture, non-commercial. It seems like a cloud of meaning, or a certain vibe. So what kind of places do you regularly feature in eos, and why?

A good example is my recent collaboration with LEICO—a group of contemporary art spaces that came together to create a physical map. It was led by Erik Swars and supported by MdbK. I collaborated with them because I think artist-run initiatives are a core part of what I want to archive. It’s not about a business model or making money. Some spaces are clearly built to generate profit—that’s fine, but it’s not what I want to focus on. The vibe I’m after is when the space is created by and for the scene itself. A circular system. That’s true of the LEICO spaces too, even though some are larger institutions. For example, I’ve featured children’s workshops at MdbK on eos, but that’s a state-run institution—it’s not artist-run. So I’ve shifted focus to stay aligned with the smaller-scale, grassroots energy.

How many people are following eos now?

A lot. I just shared a photo of my face the other day—for the first time—and got 30 new followers. The algorithm was working. Not that we like that.

No, we don’t. That’s not artist-run. So how many followers are there now?

About 4500 on Instagram. And 2600 on Telegram. There’s definitely crossover, but some people prefer Telegram and don’t use Instagram at all. I only post the weekly editions there. The growth came from careful tagging—highlighting and crediting all the spaces, artists, and organisers. That way, when they’re tagged, they see it, and sometimes share it. That’s how more people find eos. It’s very organic. And in the real world, I try to attend at least one of the events I post each week. That’s been hard to balance—with being a mom and working on other projects. But I try to show up, especially for new spaces or organisers. I don’t want the archive to be about me. And people trusted it without even knowing who I was for two years.

I told a friend that we were talking about eos, and she was like, “Micky is doing eos!?”

I like that. I don’t need people to know. It’s not about me—it’s about the archive, the spaces, the city. I’m creating the archive, but it wouldn’t exist without everything that’s happening here.

Let’s talk more about Leipzig. You started eos here. You mentioned you're also doing Berlin now, and thinking about New York this summer. What is it about Leipzig that made this project possible?

Leipzig is a dream in so many ways for me personally. I felt that way the first time I visited 10 years ago. It’s gotten harder—cultural funding is being cut, there’s economic pressure across the arts—but Leipzig is still really open to creative, non-commercial projects. That’s rare. You can still find spaces for 400€ a month—even ground floor, street-facing ones. That’s almost unheard of. And then there’s HGB and the university, which keep things intellectually alive. Halle is also nearby, and super interesting culturally right now. I want to include more from there in the archive too. Leipzig has always had this independent, philosophical spirit.

Have you noticed changes over the last 10 years?

Definitely. When I first came, it was quieter. There was more truly underground activity. Some of those spaces have shut down, and you hear the stories from people who were involved back then—what used to exist. So yes, it’s changed. And it’ll keep changing. Cities evolve. Leipzig is growing. I think we’ll see more creative things popping up in areas like Gohlis, Kleinzschocher—even as the city gets more expensive. Projects like Heizhaus in Grunau are really inspiring. Things are still happening—they’re just spreading out more. But yes, it’s harder now to have truly illegal or underground spaces. The city is cracking down more.

But it still exists. And it’s amazing that every week you find nine things happening here. Some people can’t even find one. How do you do it?

I actually have more than nine most weeks. That’s why I’m so excited about the app. Spaces are starting to register and will be able to post their own events. Soon, organisers can register too. Honestly, there’s too much happening to keep up with. It’s impossible to attend it all.

And that’s part of what I love about it. My background is in sociology and art history. So I think of this project as building a social map—mapping the network of what’s happening, where, and by whom. I’ve learned so much about the ecosystem of spaces and organisers in Leipzig. I feel privileged to have that view.

But I want to take this knowing and make it more public and more independent. Because I actually don't—I mean, I like to curate, and I will still curate. But I want it to be much more independent. On the side of people looking for stuff, they don't have to wait for me to post about it every Thursday or Friday to know. They really can go independently and find the spaces they're interested in, and see what's coming up, or see what's happened in the past. And then follow that red thread to maybe the artist that was there, and see where else they're popping up. And just be able to investigate on their own.

I find that the tools we use nowadays don't really support that, or they’re kind of flooded with other information, when you're really just looking for something nice to do. You have to get through the doom scrolling to do that, you know? It's been about accessibility for me from the beginning. I want these spaces to be more accessible for other people who might not be in the circle yet—to know about it, but they should be, or they want to be. And I feel like if they want to be, then let them. You're trying to get people to come see the opening, right? Or you're trying to get people to come see the concert—why gatekeep that experience for just the right people? Especially in an environment where funding for cultural events is getting more and more challenging. You need as much support as you can get. And that's kind of the goal too—I want to nourish the scene with info.

Wow, that's beautiful. Yeah, we should make this the headline: "I want to nourish the scene."

Yeah. My sights are also beyond Leipzig. Because I'm not from Leipzig originally.

Tell me—tell us about your background.

I'm from the States originally. I went to the University of Vermont and spent a lot of time in Vermont, and also on the West Coast—in California and also Colorado. And then I spent a long time traveling around the world, living in different countries. And I was always inspired by this type of vibe—of an event or a space that is artist-run, and where you can feel the creativity of the space and the people there. And it exists everywhere. It exists everywhere. And I do want to say it's a subculture of a city—because it is. It's not underground, but it's not the kind of mainstream cultural place that you would go as a tourist. I would always love to find a real place.

You have a radar.

I think it's just this natural interest in what you were discussing earlier—before we started this conversation—about drifting through a city. And I find that really beautiful. I'm going to reference your book in this interview. And I think that allowing yourself to drift through the streets that naturally call to you... I’ve found some really crazy, interesting spaces because of that. And not feeling pressured to see all the historical sites, but maybe just wandering around. Also, it’s always tied together—it’s like, the best food and coffee and drinks and interesting spaces are going to be where you meet those people. Not the most expensive, but the most interesting ones, right? Yeah. So I learned a lot through traveling about that. And I want, very much, to create a global network of these spaces. So that's the goal with the app. Yeah, it's coming this summer.

Think big.

Invitations will be sent out to spaces all around Europe that I follow and that I really admire, and also—yeah, further abroad, hopefully.

But then you can't oversee that all by yourself.

I don't know. Let's see. If anyone wants to invest in the project, then I'd be able to hire some more people to work with me. But yeah, no—so far, it's just me, with help from some dear colleagues of mine at my past workplace, helping me with the graphic—the current logo. But besides that, it's really just me. And yeah, it's kind of daunting to think about overseeing a global network. But... slowly.

We want to talk a little about the financial situation, and how people can help.

Oh, well, there's a crowdfunding campaign open on the website. So always welcome to donate there. And I've mentioned that a few times in the past month. So I started eos as an official business in March, and I'm technically self-employed now, running the project with the help of startup funding from the Job Center, which I got. But yeah. I mean, it's super hard to raise money for this type of thing—and the cross-section of art and technology, which is a very hot topic. But I think with everything, it's like, you just have to find the right people that are interested in that, or the right program. So I'm open. If anyone knows funding programs that eos archive should fit into, I’d be happy to apply for that—or investment or foundations that support culture/technology projects. But yeah, let's see. I mean, I'm definitely reaching into all sorts of avenues for funding. And hopefully—I mean, eventually—I would like it to be a supporter-run project. And that's always been my goal. That's what the business plan says.

I just asked you the question if you want to be something like Rausgegangen?

Yeah, it's interesting to talk about the competitors—or not even competitors, but like the other people in the event scene in Leipzig. Particularly in Leipzig—Rausgegangen or Kreuzer, or these others—Ahoi also. Like, there's other magazines—free, that collection. Yeah. Also Froh Froh. That is something really interesting to me, and I have never actually—yeah, I’ve never connected with them yet, but hopefully that’s coming. Just to also exchange ideas or thoughts. No, I don’t think I want to be like Rausgegangen. For me, it’s way too commercial in the look and the numbers. They have over 20,000 people following their Instagram.

You know their Instagram? They have those videos—yeah and the look of all of that, the aesthetic.

I think what is the distinguishing point—even more than the events that I choose—is those events I choose not only because of the space or the event content, but because of the graphics. And the graphic is the central focal point of the archive—it’s archiving these flyers and posters. And that won’t change no matter how large it gets. And you should see my personal Instagram—my saved flyers from all over the world of such interesting events and spaces that I plan to reach out to. That graphic is the common denominator of the scene.

So it’s not about the event and the fun and the hedonism that you can have there, or the experience—but about the artistic value.

I think it’s both. I mean, like I said, the original first idea was, I want to save these graphics and I want to archive them. And then I was like, Oh, when I post them, people will find out about what's going on. I’ll make it something in advance. So I think it's both. For the observer, the supporter, or the user of this—they’re looking for information about spaces and where to go and what events are on and what might be interesting for them. For me personally, I look at it a lot from a sociological perspective, and also from this art-historical, observer perspective—dissecting the commonalities and differences in the different groups. And I also hope, eventually, this can be really actually a tool for education in subculture scenes in different cities.

But is there something like an inspiration or idol platform for you? Resident Advisor?

I would say Resident Advisor was one of the models that I looked at and was like, interesting that they do this—but only for electronic music events.

Actually you’re doing it—you’re doing it for the artistic subculture. I mean, if we talk about success—how do you measure your success? Is it in followers, or in supporters, or in artistic value? If you want to know—is the thing I’m doing interesting to somebody? If you have Resident Advisor—people go there when they’re searching for the best techno club in, I don’t know, Belgrade, wherever. For me, that’s always the first thing I watch. Not so much because I want to be at a techno party, but I want to know the spaces that are interesting. And then I look at the spaces on Instagram, and then I see who’s following them and who they’re featuring. So if I knew that there was eos in that city—like, if I go to Rome in July—I would look. There’s this space and that space, and I’d drift around. Because that will probably be an interesting area to go to.

Yeah, I think I’m really like a nerd when it comes to this kind of data collection. Whenever I go to a website that has a large archive—actually I can think of a good one. One I just came across is Gallery Weekend Berlin, and their website is amazing. You go to their map, and you can go down the alphabetical list of spaces. It just gives me so much joy to see it organised in that way, searchable and interactive. For me, when the archive is really substantial—with a lot of information about hundreds of spaces around the world and what’s happening there—that will make me happy. And honestly, putting together the weekly post and typing out the space, the name of the event, in this format, and the type of event and the time... all this data input. I’m a nerd for that. I don’t know. I like it. I like that knowledge.

And sometimes I think—what would somebody from my village where I grew up do if they came across it? Would they understand what they’re looking at?

I think the way I’ve built the app—and we'll start user testing this month, because there are maybe eight or nine spaces already registered there—I think with that, I've made it very straightforward. You see a map, you see the types of spaces, and you can go look at their page and see what they're about, see a photo of the space, and get information. It can't be more straightforward than that.

But then you also can choose— I want to go out tonight—what's on?

Yeah. You can choose the date and stuff like this, definitely.

That's something I was thinking about too— I have this huge grid on Instagram filled with 900 events now from the past few years, right? I just celebrated the 100th Weekend Edition.

If you were able to filter that—that would be so interesting. You can go back and see what was happening at a certain time. But if you could filter by artist or graphic designer—that would be super interesting. Because I do have multiple flyers from the same graphic designer. That happens a lot. And I wanted to say something else—it's so interesting to put together the nine flyers that I've selected. I don't know if it's something I'm selecting, but I think it's definitely also coming from the scene—these similar color patterns come up.

That's what I wanted to say—like, you’re having a Sex Nails collection in flyers. When I look there, it looks like your nails.

Wow. Yeah. We should do some flyer inspired nails, Minki!

But there is an aesthetic that you're featuring—or is the aesthetic already there?

I like to think that because we’re all in the city, working and living in the city, and we’re getting these mental triggers of color and information—and we’re seeing similar things, because Leipzig is not that big—that comes up in the designers when they're designing. Like recently, it was bright yellow. There were three flyers that were bright yellow for the 100th thing. I'm not always selecting them because of the color—it’s just that’s what the scene is feeling. And I really do think it's this external stimulation coming into the design. And I find that regularly—I look at the nine together and I'm like, this is bizarre.

Yeah. And the interesting thing is that you know there’s no monetary or financial interest behind it. You know that people can do what they want. What happens when they do what they want? Right? They invent a flyer. Of course, there’s a little bit of what fits, but yeah—it’s probably the freest form of flyer that you can find. A good sensorium of advertisements.

True. But you would be surprised. If you read the conversation I had with Mzngo, who's also a graphic designer—she was living in Leipzig, now she's in Berlin—it's like, there is a freedom in the design process for events of this nature and spaces in the scene, because of the community aspect and the trust, and the freeness in artistic practice. But people can be really fucking picky also. When we've planned events—with the collective that I'm a part of— the graphic is very important. It really communicates—what is the event going to feel like? What is the space like? Is it light and beautiful cursive with these pastel colours?

Like every book cover right now?

Like, is that going to be some peaceful ambient music and art? Or is it really hard and minimal and black-and-white, just one word? You get the feeling of the space and the event from this. So I think it's something that organisers take care of in this way—or they don't, ironically. And then it's like, you think it's going to be something, and it's totally not—which is also really interesting.

I really want to have a conversation with Riso Club. I've reached out to them—hopefully they're the next conversation after this—because they have such a big knowledge of this.

Yeah, and they're probably doing half of the flyers.

Definitely. They're printing them. And I think that's a really interesting conversation to have with them—about this sort of philosophical topic. Graphic design in the scene. How people go about it. The printing process. The physical side of what I'm doing digitally. I'm also curious—maybe they have some crazy archive that I want to look at. Oh my god. That would be amazing.

So it's like two years behind—you saw how it grew. So what do you think will happen in the next two years?

I would really love to have a proper global network of spaces and organisers—registered and actively archiving their events. And also have a really dedicated supporter base that's helping to fund the project and keep it alive. With also keeping in mind the development of the app and its capabilities—like having community features. So maybe even like, yeah, a custom chatroom for each space or something like this is something that I'm considering.

A chatroom—that sounds so, so, so cute. Beginning of the century.

Yeah, taking it back. And I would love to be able to work on it full-time—be supported by the people using it, and by the spaces and organisers that are dedicated to keeping their archives living and updating them. And that's it. Just having hundreds of wonderful spaces on the map would be amazing.

And I would like to digitise historical collections as well. If I have the ability to work on what I'd like to in the future with eos—it would be more of this kind of research and finding vintage collections to digitise. Contacting people like Wolfgang Tillmans. He is very interested in poster art. He's made political posters for the past elections, and he has apparently, one of the biggest collections of event flyers. Tracking down physical flyers and digitising them for the archive for public memory, would be top on my list of things to be doing in two years.

Let's get boring and open up your own space. Maybe put it on a flyer.

Opening a space might come sooner than you think. Let's see, hopefully, fingers crossed.

I also look forward to that. Yes. Micky, thank you so much that we finally met you in person here.

Thank you, Greta.

---

This conversation for eos archive was hosted by Greta Taubert, a writer, journalist, and published author whose work explores experimental living, collective futures, and cultural transformation. Greta’s perspective—rooted in research, storytelling, and lived experience—brought a thoughtful shift in focus for this conversation. We’re grateful for her curiosity in turning the mic toward Micky, and eos archive.