This collaboration dates back before an original introduction. It was April 2005, Copenhagen. I was booked for setting up a temporary art-shop at a project called PROJECT FOX, financed by VW, organised by an incredibly ambitious bunch o’ freaks, who wanted to make something big, something unique. It was a massive press oriented event to present a car, but one that included a hotel completely redesigned by street artists, illustrators and writers. Yes, this article could result in some story about the rise of using art for marketing purposes... But not here, not now. This is more personal.

Getting introduced to Project Fox, I check out the unfinished hotel rooms, one by one, about 60 in total. One hits me in the gut: I’m breathless. The walls are covered with a tapestry of illustrated trees, children sleeping soundly in the bed of their roots. Around the trees, animals like wolves, deers and birds are gathering. It is extremely cute, but somehow deep, yet not cheesy at all. I’m honestly touched. The room was designed by RINZEN. Before stepping into that room, all I knew of RINZEN was from a quick flick through their RMX book.

Days after, I’m at a place where I was supposed to organise the temporary store. There are two people sitting, painting, whatever it was, not taking notice of the surrounding madness of cocky journalists, over-excited artists and buzzing crew. The two detached were RILLA and STEVE from RINZEN. I shared a sentence or three with them and left them to their thing. They seemed pretty much preoccupied, stressed out and not really the most communicative people around, on first impression...

About half a year later, back in Berlin, I run into Steve and Rilla at this terribly packed opening for BACKJUMPS. Through some electronic music producers we both know, we end up hanging out (remember SMALL WORLD THEORY by Stanley Milgram?). Didn’t take long to learn that my previous perception of them being reserved was just severe stupidity. To make it short: By the end of the night, it was obvious for me to invite them to do a show at NEUROTITAN.

Luckily they moved to Berlin permanently, sparing the hassle of organising funds for flights and accommodation. Time went by and I got a bit nervous as there was nothing really organised from our side - we are pretty chaotically structured sometimes. Finally Rilla comes up with their title for the show. IN THE MILKY NIGHT. I loved that instantly.

We try to get the press sheets out in time, organise flyers, get the idea to print stickers instead. For sure the printers fuck up and all is damn late. The usual madness before an opening is just about to take over. Steve seems to be ultra relaxed, while Rilla’s seriously worried about the missing prints which got lost in the parcel. I still don’t know any of the works for the show, but this time I don’t have to. I trust them to make something special.

It’s three days before the opening, and huge parts of our white walls get a decent matte black backdrop by Bart (organizer extraordinaire), a friend of Rinzen. I’m worried though, we will never make it in time for the opening. You always think that, but this time there was definitely not a single reason not to. Prints are still lost, the digital processed canvases late, walls half empty, no musicians for the opening booked yet. All be fine, we tell each other. Steve’s taking it easy and starting to spray doodles instead of finishing his painting. Rilla is badly tired and so am I. We decide to leave it for the day.

Next day luckily the works arrive – a small relief. But no time to rest, the pictures have to be hung. Shifting them from one corner to the other, discussing: “This goes there.” – “No, I like it better over there” – “The light is just shitty here, lets try it with this wall” – “Hey I’ve just had an idea.”...

One of those ideas led to think about a small locker with a tiny window. So we ended up painting that too and were enthusiastically building a little shrine for monster-bubbles instead of concentrating on the pictures. I think anyone who is not joining in the construction is missing the best part of the show. The process of creation. Such a stress but such fun, too. Another night passes quickly. The music not sorted yet, we decide to get some turntables, to spontaneously play some recs. Alright, we relax and rely on the next day, there is nothing else we can do.

One day before the opening. More paint needed, stronger, hardened nails needed, the walls proudly reminding us of their hundred some years of experience. Steve knows a guy doing light design for theatres and asks him if he could just put a little spot here and a little beam there. Christian, the light guy, is about to take that task to a personal perfection level. He starts to go through all our madly wired electric system; to reorganize plugs, fuses and connections. I’m sweating. I know that it could be a bad mistake to touch this crazy electrical cobweb, of which everybody lost a clue about years ago. But Christian is calmly jumping on and off the ladder, installing his light system. So I keep myself from being worried by trying to convince the new nails and the walls to like each other. I barely succeed. It’s now four in the morning and we decide to leave everything unfinished for the next day, opening day. That includes the still unfinished DVD which has to be projected. Forgot to mention that one. It’s so much to do still, but somehow we are all sure we’ll make it.

Opening day was just a rush. Overly tired, mechanically sorting the things which are still left. The time is running. Steve still has to finish his doodles, Rilla is printing off little signs. Bart is helping out Christian who is still on creating the final ambient light and spots and beams and projector sets. Suddenly its 8pm and people already waiting outside. I get a beer to cool down. I know its all done in a minute. And just a little late we finally open IN THE MILKY NIGHT.

Later, behind the turntables spinning some recs, I’m in a bubble of being separated by everyone and everything under the headphones. I suddenly remember being a child watching the stars. I look up and around, realizing it’s really done, finished and just perfect. The process of creation becomes less important, it’s the whole show in it’s completeness that stands out for itself now. And I’m overwhelmed and emotionally touched by the RINZEN again.

Words and Photo: Joern Vater