Sina Schindler & Alex Brade

Micky

Thank you to Sina and Alex for meeting me here at Riso Club so I can finally get to know more about this iconic place in the city where so many authentic and memorable posters are made and so much good work happens. It really feels like an institution.

Sina

Yeah, you’re welcome.

Micky

I want to start with you both. Where are you from, what do you do (besides running the club), and how did you end up in Leipzig?

Sina

Well, I’m Sina. I’ve been running the Riso Club for 11 years now. I’m from the south of Germany, Stuttgart, and then I moved to Darmstadt, where I studied graphic design with Alex and Christiane. That’s where I met these sweet people.

We had this evening where we broke into our printing workshop at the university. Back in the day, we worked a lot and had a lot of fun with graphic work without any big concept—we were kind of joking around with our creativity. So we broke into this printing workshop. I don’t even know how the idea really came up. I think we just wanted a place where we could do stuff, print stuff whenever we wanted, without copy shop opening hours.

Christiane really believed in the idea—shout out to her, she’s not here for this conversation. She planned to move to Leipzig, Alex thought about it too. I was still in Stuttgart, parked at my parents’ place after my diploma, and honestly didn’t know what to do. Then this idea came up again.

Alex

Yeah, at the university, in the last year of our studies, a Risograph arrived at the faculty. We’d never seen anything like it and thought, wow, what is this? So the idea evolved.

Sina

It was like, ah, there’s this cool machine. Risograph printing is really easy to handle, kind of. If you want to do more advanced graphics, sure, it gets detailed and nerdy, but to just print information in an easy, one-coloured way, it’s straightforward. So we thought, okay, let’s buy a machine. We bought it second-hand on eBay Kleinanzeigen, brought it to Leipzig, and started. Since then I’ve run the Riso Club—crazy, it’s the 11th year.

Micky

That’s what it feels like to me—really an institution. I don’t know much about Riso printing, but it clearly captivated both of you.

Alex

Yes, it was like seeing a semi-automatic silkscreen printer combined with, what is this, a Xerox copy machine. It looks ordinary from the outside, but the technique inside is so…

Sina

…complex, but also easy.

Alex

Yeah. And we were like, why didn’t we know about this? We have to work with it. There’s a bright range of colours you can use—you can only use the colours that exist, so it’s about mixing them. It’s not perfect like offset or digital printing. It has this small off-grid, stamped feeling.

Sina

I always say it’s like offset marries silkscreen and then you pack that into a grey box that looks like a normal copier.

I don’t think it was originally meant for the art world. It was meant to print information fast and cheaply. That also hooked me because we were dependent on copy shops, and printing always cost money. At our university in Darmstadt—we didn’t have offset printing available, we had to go elsewhere and pay. With this machine you can make zines—one or two colours—in an easy, inexpensive way. That’s interesting for people in Leipzig and the subculture, because you don’t always need a lot of colour information. With Riso, you print each colour separately. If you want something just in red, you print just red. You could have a red zine, or the moon printed in red—it looks special because you don’t see it that often. Super nice, very basic.

Micky

Yeah, but it also sounds pretty complicated.

Sina

There’s a lot going on inside, technically. I’ve had to repair it quite often. And moving it isn’t basic—you’ve got a lot of mechanical stuff in there.

Micky

So coming to Leipzig with this idea was the plan.

Alex

Also in combination with a design studio for the three of us. This was like a side project—though I don’t know which had more priority.

Sina

At the beginning they were on the same level, but then the Riso Club grew. You two were already doing graphic work. Christiane did illustration. I was really connected to the printing part. It got popular pretty quickly. We made an advertisement once—printing flyers, really bad flyers.

Alex

I don’t know if it was necessary.

Micky

I imagine word of mouth worked quite well.

Sina

There was no place like this then. Now there are more print places, and there’s also a left printing space where people can print. But I think we arrived in Leipzig at the right time.

Micky

So we covered how it began—the machine inspired you three to develop a project around it. How did you move into this space we’re in now, the actual Riso Club space?

Sina

We first worked in Christiane’s flat. It was part of a house project. I did some work there too. After about a year, living and working in the same place got a bit annoying. So we started searching for a space. We asked around—that was 10 years ago, it felt easier than it is now. We were lucky: someone from our house project knew the owner of this building and recommended us.

Micky

Okay, so you found the space through word of mouth, basically?

Sina

Yeah, we asked people. No one will remember, but this was called the Ostblock. They wanted art spaces and stuff like that. There’s the gallery beside us (Bistro 21). The owners were connected to cultural work, or tried to be. There was a concept, but I don’t think anyone remembers the name anymore. They kind of founded this project, and we slid into it.

Micky

Ostblock. Sounds super nice. We should bring it back.

Sina

We’re still actually in the Ostblock, but I think no one knows the story anymore. The owners’ group isn’t together; they don’t do events. It’s not shining as a project. It’s more like left, messed-up houses—which you can see, because some are really falling apart.

Micky

Now, it’s been 10 years since you found this space. How do you keep the club sustainable and still affordable for public access? It feels very open.

Sina

Rent is still super low. Someone once offered me €10,000 in cash to take over the space. The rent has only gone up by about €40 or so, so it’s really low. But we renovated a lot ourselves. There’s no heating—we heat with an oven. It’s pretty basic. The floors have areas where the wood is vanishing and so on. You have to be cool with that. The owner is actually interested in cultural work and likes having cultural places around, so he wants to give us a chance to survive. Sometimes I have my issues with him, but for some years now it’s been a good relationship.

Micky

It’s very important to find a space where you have some security—that it won’t change from one day to the next, or one year to the next.

Sina

I live here too, in the Ostblock project two doors down, and anything can happen. I don’t expect it, to be honest—I think I’m safe for now. What doesn’t feel safe is that many of my friends live around here and, because we’re all connected to the subcultural scene, most don’t earn a lot. I sometimes feel the biggest fear is that people will have to move. Those are also the people most likely to be my clients. That’s the biggest fear.

Micky

I’ve had conversations with two different spaces over the past year (Modos Dever and Forum Neun) that have since closed. It’s hard. It definitely happens.

Sina

I do have a business here. People come in and out. Overall, I think the Riso Club has earned enough to sustain itself almost from the beginning.

Micky

So what’s the model of the club? Is it an open workshop where you teach people, or full service, or a hybrid? Who’s coming in?

Sina

It’s hybrid. In the beginning we did tiny workshops—one-on-one sessions. Group workshops are lovely but really exhausting. I love the one-on-ones where you explain how someone can translate their work into print. We started with that, using an old, really messed-up machine. People got a membership card, then could book an appointment and come print on their own. That’s how we started.

Then that machine died a couple of years ago, and I had no idea how to repair it. We also wanted a better one. We had never printed with a computer interface before—that was Riso 1.0—and it was time for 2.0. I was really lucky: a big client whose brand labels I designed asked how they could support me, and I got the new machine. That was a great investment. Since then, the self-service part is mostly paused, but you can still email me, come by, and I’ll print with you—so a hybrid. Some clients, like Alex, can still come and print on their own. And yes, people still have their membership cards. We laminated the card. It was official. Really official.

Micky

I love that. Everything about the Riso Club feels tangible. It’s the opposite of my project and archive. I can’t touch anything, so a laminated membership card—I love it.

Riso Club has done a ton of collaborations over the years. Are there any that stick out to you—something you’re most proud of?

Sina

Chill like.

Alex

Since the beginning.

Micky

What’s behind “Chill like”?

Alex

It was a really stupid idea. While we were studying, I collected a lot of pictures on my computer—including some of dictators chilling. The contrast was interesting, but I didn’t know what to do with it. One day I made a small zine and put it on my website. A week later a fellow student—shout out to Jan Motyka—asked if I still had one of those zines. I only had the one—just for fun. He asked for more, so I made a few. Then maybe we… I don’t know what the next step was.

Sina

I don’t remember how Leo came in. I just remember saying, come on, make posters out of it. Then you made those posters. The idea started as portraying “bad people” chilling, and now it’s more like cool or famous people chilling.

Micky

It’s interesting that it started with dictators. Really interesting.

Alex

Yes, a complete contrast. Without the original context, it loses the first idea. Then Sina said, “Alex, I won’t print Klaus anymore,” and I was like, sure. There were still some leftover prints and a few people asked me, unfortunately. The idea behind it is that we can’t always decide good and bad so clearly. Where’s the border? They’re edgy; some are good people who do good things, but they have a past where they did really bad things. Since 2020 we’ve made calendars which gives it a contextual framework again. It has a bit of an edge; every month is a surprise.

Micky

I’m going to get one this year as a gift. Any dream collabs you’d like to do in the future? Are you waiting or wishing for something to come to Riso Club?

Sina

I mean, there are a lot of bands. I do a lot of printing for bands in the subculture—and not just subculture, also some more famous bands—but they’re really connected to us as friends.

I mean, printing for Britney Spears would be quite interesting.

Micky

Nice. Anybody with a Britney connect can get in touch with Sina, please.

Okay, moving on to archiving. Ten years of printing is crazy. What is archiving like? Do you have a method? Is anything kept? How is it kept? Is there public access?

Sina

Luckily, when we started, Christiane said, “We have to keep one print of each.” We did this in the beginning, but not always. Last year we had the 10-year anniversary—called “100 Years”—and we did an exhibition at Bistro 21 where we put up a lot of the archive. There were some missing, for sure, and we also forgot to put the artists’ names and actual dates on the backs of some posters. I think the archive is maybe 90% complete. It’s kept in boxes and in some A3 folders. I had an intern last year—shout out to Theo—who was really stoked to do archive work and started scanning every poster. He’s not here anymore.

But there are ideas. Theresa, who just popped in here, was really excited about continuing this. Since it was the 10-year anniversary, we were all a bit hyped about what happened over the last decade, and we came up with the idea to make a book. That would be a massive amount of work. We work all the time—Alex is doing his graphic stuff—and we have to manage our lives. I’d have to take a month off just for archiving, scanning, layout, and finding funding. It would have to be offset printed; otherwise it wouldn’t make sense, and the color grading work would be intense. But the idea is there. I love it.

Micky

I love it too.

Sina

When we built the exhibition last year, we didn’t manage to put everything on the walls. We made a grid from construction fences on every wall and mounted them with magnets. The build-up took two days. It was crazy but easy. I think we exhibited maybe 30 or 40 percent—maybe 50 at most.

Micky

This is huge—what you’ve done for the city and the subculture. For people to actually see and access that history is so useful and meaningful. Next topic: the Monatsblatt. Where did the motivation come from?

Alex

It was when the Riso Club was in Christiane’s place. We kept missing events. We’d check and say, “Shit, this was yesterday.”

Sina

FOMO was kicking in.

Alex

We said, “Hey, we need to know what’s going on. We have this printer, so we can share information about what’s happening in the district.” That was the motivation. The idea also came from Schauspiel Leipzig—they had a small program back then, like A6. In the middle there was a one-color picture from the 70s or 80s or something. Maybe that inspired us to do A5 (or A4 folded to A5) with one side as a picture from the neighborhood—just a good or odd image, not focused on an institution, more about catching the vibe.

Micky

Who would do the photos? You guys?

Alex

The first ones, yes. Then we made a small text and an open call. In the first year, a lot of pictures came in every month. Sometimes we had to choose between three or four photos.

Sina

Corona kind of killed the vibe. We’re trying to push it again. I think the last one was pretty crowded. In the last ten years, a lot changed here. Many places closed. From the beginning we had to build connections—we went to every Plenum and every venue to tell them what we were doing. Collecting all the information was a lot of work. Then, when we had the contacts, people left the district, new people moved in, and then Corona came. So we lost connections. Now we’re building it up again because the district is flourishing and people are doing things again. I think it’s back on track.

Micky

Cool. And where can people pick it up? Here, around? Do you distribute them?

Sina

At the venues. We don’t want to spread it too much because the venues prefer it that way. It has to stay a bit exclusive, because of possible authority problems you can have with off-projects.

Micky

True. Let’s talk about what’s next for Riso Club. What’s coming in the next 10 years?

Sina

Maybe a big exhibition. I have a part-time job now, so I’m having a chill time there—sounds weird because I’m also busy here—but I don’t have the same pressure. I like to work again. That’s the process now, and it works. I’ve had cool projects, some fun printing lately, some books. Nothing super big, and I don’t know what’s next.

In the future, I’d like to find someone to work with me. Doing this alone is sometimes intense. I’m the kind of person who likes to work with people, so I grab friends to start projects. There’s going to be a big exhibition next year; I’m really looking forward to it. I hope we get the funding—if not, we can’t make it.

Right now it’s good as it is. No bigger plans—just keep it running. Maybe buy a new machine when possible, because this one has its limits. I’m ready for 3.0 now. I heard there’s a 3% variance in printing, so you can’t be sure it’s always perfect. Artists use that to their advantage; they get super advanced and crazy with it. I’m chill about it. When something seems not perfectly printed, it’s still within Riso’s limits.

And right now we are founding a publishing house. I’m looking forward to doing more creative work on the things I print. I really like making magazines, comics, and art books with artists. That’s what’s coming up.

Having fun again, without the pressure—which in Leipzig’s cultural field, where funding isn’t safe anymore because of the shitty political situation (those fuckers)—is a bit exhausting. Having a part-time job makes me more chill. It’s weird, because I have less time, but I’m more relaxed.

Micky

Running one project alone while sustaining yourself financially is a huge task. If you put out a call that you’re looking for people to help run the ship…

Sina

You meet a lot of people. I met so many friends through Riso Club—it’s insane. I could be more specialized in the advanced art world, but I figured that’s not my focus. My focus is working in the subculture in and around Leipzig. I’m happy to keep that going.

No idea how it looks when someone joins the project. There’s no business model for that right now. In the end, I can’t do this forever alone. But for now, it’s good as it is.

Micky

That’s good to hear. For someone coming to Riso Club for the first time, what should they know about the space and the project?

Sina

I can’t do bigger than A3. A lot of people ask for A2, A1, or A0—I can’t do that. Otherwise, everything is possible. Just send an email. If you’re interested in printing or in publishing, come by.

Micky

Nice. I’m interested. And I’m so happy to get to know you both today. Any last words—anything you want to say about Leipzig or to the people who’ll read this?

Sina

Haters gonna hate.

Alex

Then I say lovers gonna love.

Sina

Honestly, support your local artists. Get to people, get to know them, talk to them. That’s what I meant with haters—sometimes people judge before they actually connect. We wanted to put this line on caps: We Don’t Judge.

Micky

I feel like something that makes it a little inaccessible—or intimidating—is that it’s so cool here: what’s done here, the people who come through, the subculture. People think, “I can’t ask Sina to print my shitty whatever. No way.” It’s cool if you say, We Don’t Judge.

Sina

I think 99.9% of everything I print looks really good after the Riso turns it into a print.

Micky

That 3% of magic, yeah. So nice. Thank you both for this conversation today!

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This conversation was hosted by eos archive's founder, Micky Arratoon. Micky looks forward to hosting more conversations with those who are shaping and redefining subculture in Leipzig, Berlin and beyond. Get in touch to say hello@eosarchive.app.