AN EVENING WITH JOHN

I drove up to Green Bay yesterday (and back down) to see a retrospective exhibit of work by my old, dear friend John Rininger, who passed away in 2006.

John and I met in DeKalb in the mid-80's when I would print my zine Cehsoikoe at the Kinko's on Lucinda Avenue, where he worked.  We became fast friends, though I was always readily aware that John's mind was working on a scale much vaster than my own.  He seemed to be able to maintain a half-dozen trains of thought simultaneously, and his randomly dispensed references and quotations nearly always flew right over my head.  But in this way John's art was a mirror of his own mind.  In his art, high and low, good and evil, light and dark are each bestowed their own place without discrimination, commingling in a chaotic and confusing but ultimately beautiful scene to which John bore witness.

I've written about John on this blog before, but I thought I would share some photos and words about the exhibit.  It was held at the Lawton Gallery at UW-Green Bay, and curated by John's longtime friend and anointed archivist Stephen Perkins.

There was a nice turnout of students, plus old friends and family.

John worked mostly in xerographical media (photocopies) at first, and later used digital media to print and create his work.  His long-running series Catalyst Komics ran the gamut from "traditional" photocopied zines, to sculptures, ready-made objects, and one of a kind images such as the one above.

Students examine a collection of collaborative artists' books from the 1980's.

John's "magnum opus" was The Scroll, a 600 foot-long melange of over 1400 solvent-transferred images.

In 2001 as John was losing yet another apartment, Chicago collector Marc Fischer came upon a trove of his source materials dumped in the alleyway. (Story and more images here.)  Above: a sampling of some of these.

John was deeply involved in the underground "artistamp" scene, and his prized possession was an old-fashioned perforating machine, which he made available for public use one day per month.

Students examine several of John's artistamp pages.

One wall of the gallery was given over to John's zine-form work (he, and I, called them "mags", not zines, but you get the idea).

When NICE (Northern Illinois Copy Equipment) in DeKalb obtained a copier that could print in black plus blue, red, yellow, and brown toner, John found inspiration for this series of small-format collage zines.

A portion of The Scroll.

Curator Perkins had handcrafted rollers made to help exhibit the Scroll.

A student peruses an issue of John's collaborative zine project (with Tom Long and Gene White), Even Paranoiacs Can Have Enemies.

Some sculptural issues of Catalyst Komics included an epoxied mousetrap and a (simulated) pipe bomb.

Catalyst Komics #181

Stephen Perkins talks about John's life and work.

A portion of the Scroll.

More source material from John's personal collection.

In 1994, after an off-the-cuff suicidal joke he made to a therapist, John was forcibly institutionalized for a brief period, an experience that provided much fodder for his work.

Above three images: Some examples of Catalyst Komics zines.

At the end of the evening the scroll was ceremoniously unfurled for the audience.

In this world there are artists and there are artists.  John was the kind of artist where the line between his life and his work ran blurred, where compromise was never sought or accepted.  He was a remarkable guy, and seeing his work arrayed like this in one place was pretty emotional for me.  I'm glad I got to know him.

* * *

MORE:

Xerolage 39

The Mousetrap-Shooter Incident

Video footage of The Scroll

JOHN RININGER

I met John Rininger in DeKalb, in the late 80's, when I was publishing my zine Cehsoikoe.  He worked at the Kinko's on Lucinda and printed it up for me.  Soon enough he was contributing to it as well, and we became very good friends.

Though we were good friends, John was a little inscrutable to me.  His mind moved at a much, much higher rate than mine, and held in view, simultaneously, seemingly hundreds of disparate ideas and directions.  Looking back, his art was really a tangible record of this thinking.

We hung out at his place on Lincoln Highway, where he lived with Katherine.  The apartment was full of books, old junk, cups of coffee, and various, as he called them, "devices."  He liked to listen to phonograph records at the old spoken word speed of 16 rpm.

On one of the only two "dates" I've ever been on (a "first date" no less!), I took my gal to John's house for Friday Night Movies, which consisted of two (or three?) projectors running simultaneously onto one screen.  I will spare you the contents of the films, but suffice it to say, to John, there were no restrictions.  Amazingly, I went on a second date with that girl, and more.  She was cool.

After a few years John moved into the city, and I moved to Denver.  We corresponded through the mail.  John sent me his weird, dark zines, Catalyst Komics, and I sent him my sappy zines.  We'd visit each other from time to time.   He started having gallery shows, and became deeply involved with the Artist's Stamp sub-culture.  His prized possession was an old-school perforating machine.

"Telegraphes"

Cyberstamp, 225 x 225 x 16 million,

from a full sheet of 14

John Rininger, aka Rausch Post

It was no secret that John was troubled.  How could a brain like that not be?  He became somewhat infamous for being held against his will in a psych ward, his experience of which was written up as a cover story, featuring his artwork, in Chicago's New City weekly.  Afterwards, he was delighted that he finally achieved an enormous press run with some of his work.

John's masterpiece was what he called "The Scroll," a 1200 foot long continuous image, which he worked on for years and years.

In November of 2006, John passed away at home.  He was 45 years old.  I feel lucky to have shared some of life with him.

* * *

Other John R. links:

Photos, Postcards, and Ephemera
Xerolage #39
Tom Long's reminiscences of John