Henry Leutwyler Document

New York-based Photographer Henry Leutwyler’s new book Document is a 10-year collection of portraits of things, including an original bottle of Krink next to Massimo Vignelli’s pen. Available online at Steidl Books.

Ryan Monahan

Ryan Monahan @what_thehell is a mixed media sculptor and graphic designer based in the suburbs of Chicago. He creates intricate miniatures that capture the grittiness of fictional urban scenes and environments. To view more of his work, visit ryanthomasmonahan.com.

Product featured: K-42 Paint Marker
Photo by Grant Lechner (@dr.grant)

Sam Larson

Sam Larson (@samlarson) is an artist based in Salt Lake City. He uses our K-42 Paint Marker to make work inspired by the American West and nature.

Product featured: K-42 Paint Marker


Featured product: K-63 Permanent Ink Marker

Sant Ambroeus Colette Residency

Just before colette’s closing in December 2017, we created custom markers in colette blue. The markers were given to artists and friends to customize plates for Sant Ambroeus’ three-week, pop-up restaurant in colette. Thanks to all the artists, colette, and Sant Ambroeus. colette was one of our oldest customers and they supported Krink from the very early years. We wish them the best of luck on all their new ventures.

      From left to right, top to bottom: Curtis Kulig, Tom Sachs, Jeremyville, Kaws, Jean Andre, Jean-Philippe DelhommeFrom left to right, top to bottom: Jose Parla, Amit Greenberg, Jason Woodside, Mark Gonzalez, Andre, Jason Polan



Doze Green, K60 on vinyl. 2018. See more here: @dozegreen dozegreen.com

Product featured: K-60 Paint Marker


Product featured: K-70 Permanent Ink Marker


SupaKitch (@supakitch_) is a plastic and urban artist from France. Here he uses K-70 Permanent Ink Marker to customize surfboards. To check out more of his work, visit supakitch.com

Product featured: K-70 Permanent Ink Marker

Part-time Warehouse Assistant

Krink is seeking a part-time Warehouse Assistant.

We are a creative company producing specialty inks, markers, and art/design projects. We wear a lot of different hats and take on a multitude of tasks each day. Krink is a small company with a few employees; good vibes are essential for good workflow. This position is best-suited for someone with small business experience.

Pack and receive incoming and outgoing shipments
Ship domestic and international orders daily with UPS, USPS, FedEx, DHL, freight forwarders
Create and fill out international paperwork using PDF filler: NAFTA, BOL, commercial invoice, customs forms, etc.
Programs used for shipping (will train right person): UPS WorldShip, ReadyShipper, FedEx and USPS online
Receive factory orders into inventory
Bi-monthly inventory and QC reports
Manage warehouse appearance: organize inventory, break down boxes, garbage
Must be able to lift 40 lbs
Occasional errands, art handling, and studio tasks.

Candidate must be detail-oriented, focused, and flexible
Prior shipping experience required
Microsoft Word and Excel skills required
Experience with PC/Windows required

This is a part-time position, 2 days per week.

Before applying for this position please watch Tom Sach’s “10 Bullets.” Understanding the fundamental ideas and principles in this video is essential to your success at Krink. If you don’t watch the whole thing, please don’t contact us.

Email a resumé and short cover-letter telling us about yourself and why you would like to work at Krink to: work@krink.com. Include the words Warehouse Assistant in the subject line. The Krink studio is a smoke-free environment. We are located in Sunset Park in Brooklyn. No phone calls please.

More here:

Kennedy Magazine Interview

“The joke is, the graffiti lifetime achievement award is like a garbage can and a broom when you’re doing community service. Unless if you’re fortunate enough to parlay that into something else, it’s really just for the moment,” explains Craig (KR) Costello, founder of the internationally renowned Krink graffiti markers. Growing up in Queens skating and writing graffiti, KR would steal the majority of his supplies and experiment with different ink mixtures. After a six-year stint in San Francisco — where he painted with friends like Barry McGee — he returned to New York with a whole new viewpoint and set of skills. Through Stephen (ESPO) Powers, KR was introduced to the newly opened Alife shop next to his Lower East Side apartment, and with their help the Krink brand was finally launched. I met the street artist one afternoon at his Sunset Park studio and the following three-hour conversation ensued.

Paige Silveria: Let’s start from the beginning. Where in New York did you grow up?
Craig KR Costello: Forest Hills in Queens. I grew up in a neighborhood with houses and families and a lot of the people that grew up there, stayed there. You knew your neighbors. A lot of times in New York City you step out your door and it’s a lot of strangers. But I’ve always had a community. When I was a teenager we started going to the city. Back in the day, W4th was where you’d take the train to. As a kid we didn’t really have any money so it was skating around, drinking, doing some graffiti. We just hung out in the street. Today you’d be arrested or given tickets. It was a very different city back then.

What were your cultural influences as a kid?
There was hip-hop that was really still new. We’re talking like ’86. I was into punk and new wave and coming out of a base of like classical rock. I was into skating back then but it was mostly based in California. I’d look at Thrasher mag and see these drainage ditches and I didn’t even know what I was looking at — it was just in the desert somewhere. Versus street skating, which is what we had here. We used to go to JFK and skate. That was our spot all of the time.

Whoa, inside the terminal?
Yeah it was crazy. Today they wouldn’t let you do anything the way we used to do it. We used to skate at night — we’d bring beer and weed — we’d skate the international halls. They were smooth and you could do these slides. We’d go to TWA, which is now JetBlue, but they destroyed most of it. It used to have banks that we’d skate. No one ever messed with us. There was a lot of free-for-all. They’d tell us, “Hey kid, get out of here.” But there weren’t any arrests and nothing was locked down. Everything was really open. We also went to The Met as kids and hung out on the steps. You could go inside for a nickel. It was just there for you. MoMA had a great bookstore back then. Amazon just decimated all the bookstores. I grew up when there were a lot of small businesses. The cheese spot, meat spot, Italian deli and the bookstore.

What kind of student were you?
I was kind of a bad student. But I read on my own. Everything from Kurt Vonnegut, Woody Allen, Steve Martin, Camus, Kafka — those were weird books that I was into. I think they influenced me later.

How’d they influence you?
Hard to say exactly.

Where did you buy your skateboards back then?
Soho Skates was really the only place … there was another shop uptown maybe in the low 80s or high 70s. I bought all my boards at Soho Skates though. My first board had all the plastic shit on it. It was so funny. I had a Vision Street Ghost board. And when I started skating more and breaking shit, I got all hand-me-downs. There was only the occasional new deck. And you’d put it together yourself. Whereas your first deck came fully assembled. You got parts from your friends and tried new wheels. I grew up in this culture of DIY, taking things apart. You make your own ramps and look at your environment for places to go do what it is that you want to do.

What was the graffiti scene like?
I grew up riding bombed trains when New York City was the epicenter of graffiti. Not that I knew that at the time, but it was everywhere.

Did you have any friends who were tagging?
Everybody had a name, whether they took it seriously or not. And a lot of people wrote.

Where did you go to college?
At The Museum School of Fine Arts in Boston. I think Nan Goldin went there and that was cool. But I really didn’t like Boston. I grew up where you could go to the store and buy beer and hang with your friends. It was freer. When I was 17 I was into the hardcore scene. We’d go to shows and things. But Boston was so locked down. You couldn’t buy beer. If you asked someone to go and buy you beer, they’d go into the store and tell the clerk on you. That blew our minds. We were denied things that we took for granted. I was also an alternative kid. And Boston was douchey. I didn’t grow up with the football team and what you see in the movies. And there there would be like these big jock dudes trying to pick fights with me. It was just a weird scene and I wasn’t into it. It wasn’t very diverse. So I dropped out of school and left.

Where’d you go?
I moved back to New York but I’d had this taste of freedom so it was hard to be back home. I had this opportunity to go to SF so I did. I worked at a one-hour photo store. You see a lot of things working at those spots. A lot of the photos were cyclical. You see that people take the same high school and birthday photos. And everyone is a bad photographer. It was just a bullshit job. After that I knew I didn’t want to deal in retail. That’s why we only sell our Krink products wholesale.

Where in San Francisco did you live?
In the Sunset. It was really close to the beach. We redid the whole house. It was crazy. We had Chinese landlords. The place was just poorly painted and they had linoleum tile on the walls. Being from here, moving out there was a really great experience. I had a garden. I watched broccoli grow.

What was the graffiti scene like there at the time?
It was all pre-Internet, so ideas didn’t travel as fast. The world’s gotten a lot smaller. Like now you can go to Berlin and the kids will be dressed exactly like kids in Bushwick. But back then it wasn’t like that yet. People didn’t travel as much. So I was coming from New York, a completely different gene pool and arriving with different ideas about how and where you did things. My writing methods and things were different. The term racking means stealing your supplies, and they were all way more accessible in Cali. In New York, it was more locked down. SF was really small so the scene was really small. There were really only pockets of graffiti, like in parking lots. They didn’t have as much as we did in New York. Of the graffiti writers there were only a few that stood out. Barry McGee was one of them. He seemed down to do shit. We met through a mutual friend. (For me, graffiti is partner driven; a two-man team is the best because you have an extra set of eyes. Three people can be too much and four is way too much.) And then I met other people and I got more involved in graffiti out there. And I stood out. What I was doing was completely different than anyone else.


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