Sixcentz: What do you write?

Inkhead: Inkhead IHone

Sixcentz: Where you from?

Inkhead: Originally from the county of Kings; Brooklyn

Sixcentz: What crew/crews are you down with?

Inkhead: T2B, TCK, PI, TV, DFM, TAK, those crews belong to my boys. I would only represent my boys.

Sixcentz: Would you consider yourself a bomber or a piecer?

Inkhead: Bomber, straight gutter, rolling around with the rats bomber.

Sixcentz: who got you into graff?

Inkhead: The first writer I remember seeing was MED. He did those star throwies with the soft serifs all over the city and on the highways. He's an uptowner but he was all city. When I was six my mother was alarmed at how much I

used to notice him up. She knew that my destructive urges and me noticing MED's stars would lead to some shit.

The second writer I ever noticed was MAP. His crazy M fillins were also easy to notice, especially to someone whose eye is not yet trained to read the writing on the wall. Symbol painting is primitive. MED and MAP tapped

my primitive urges. Even though MAP does an 'M' it is so abstract that most non-graff civilians might think it is a symbol.

Sixcentz: What year did you start?

Inkhead: I started writing in 1990, but I didn't develop the tag 'IH' until 1993. It originally stood for Ism Head. I don't smoke pot, so my toking friends made fun of me and made me change it to InkHead. Me and my old partner Deke

used to make stickers. We would take the old white post office stickers and run them through his copy machine. We had one master and we used to make thousands.

Sixcentz: whats your favorite thing to paint?

Inkhead: I love subway tunnels, again, just a primordial urge takes over you, filth, danger, paint. You are one with the tunnels. Your primal instincts take over and guide you away from danger.

Sixcentz: who were your influences?

Inkhead: After MED and MAP, I would have to say Cost and Revs. They were the innovators. You see, in graff, the innovators are the ones that will last forever. The first person to take two cans and do a fill-in. The first person to

write their tag on the side of a subway car. The first person to do anything will never be forgotten. Just think of all the firsts that those two have cooked up. Those huge production rollers right in the middle of the city. Revs'

life story painted in the subway tunnels of New York City. Revs' weldings. Those wheatpaste attacks that went from Brooklyn all the way uptown, some of them still up today, ten plus years later. All fucking original.

Writers including myself are still scrambling to echo their work. For a writer to have one innovation is amazing, but a handful is just ridiculous. When I first started leaving my house and trooping around Brooklyn and Manhattan I remember seeing a lot of Sez, Zu, Voke, Revo, Aut, Revo, Prior TIN, Relie, KZ (Krazer), Niro, Lyte TFB, Fritz, Prank, Kraz HSK, Hence, Fray, Teo, Aero, Ere, LW DPA, Fec TFV, Deven, Braer TPT, Lucas, Daze, MS ACC, Disaster ACC, Ask GLK, Ribs GAK, Curse, Dro, Cope2, Spesh, Rener KSF, Kaylif KSF, and Pepsi. I compiled a list of writers that influenced me when I really started to get into graff and writers that should not be forgotten. Reals TCK, DIS, Bug/Bugs, Joner DAT, Prince DAT, Deter, NH, Sener NWP, ERA, OE, Tain, Panda, SB, Span, 2Rage, Pills, Swatch, Teck, Ket RIS, Phate, Yes POW, Desa, EB, Dink, Beems, TSSone, OD BTS, Stes, Sudo, Proof, Trake, Ever, Roz 666, FU, 2Nice, Xobes, Zerox, Sago, Mega T2B, Genius/GNS, Won 666, Bizo 666, Hoax, Nev, Cet, Themes, Pove, Astro, Casio, Aiwa, SR, Carl, MN, Nov, Pane, Deci, Dover, Kaz, OJ, Tez, EAD, Dose, Arive, Chad, Sev, Louie 167, Ruel, Argue, 2mer, Wise, Soe TNS, Soe P2D, Chino, Mes BYI, Goe, Newer RNS, Bise 357, Todd BTS, CKone, HBone, Stone/Stoned, Nynex, Tromer, Ony, Nix NOS, Tension, Bose, Sere, Kech, Guess, Wise, JP, Jew, Zone, Zones, Mekr, Sain3, Real6, Deep6, Feast, Bran, Jouk, BL, Kel, Suave, Serp, Part5, No X-Men, Tess X-Men, Together Forever, Bester, Sum GAP, Cobe, Rust, Duel, Trim TNC, QS GAP, Saint, Easy, Core, Trem, Phyn, Dash MDC, Goober, Float RNS, JA XTC, Aones, RD (Brooklyn and Manhattan), IE, Date, Daer, Sil, Wolf, Arson, Chaos, Elve, Krue, Epic, Deal RFC, Secs, Veefer, CA RFC, Giz, Ve, Slash FTR, Cheg TUF, Tusk, Crier, Stiz, WSO, Setup KCW, Ryno KGB, N40, Crime, SN, TS, Set KRT, RN HC, Cinik, SP, Base RTW, Bogi NWP, BAone, Sento, JU, Joust KGB, Web 113, Zor, Zoot/Zoots, Tyke, Gano, MQ, Dop KD, Spif 666, Tide, Vast KNA, Aker KNA, Bete 718, Krook 718, Leo DIS, Seg DIS, KM DIS, Kez5, James Top, Dreads NIW, Fort, Kans, Hec UFC, Nose, Sue, Amer, Bruz, Trip KRT, Fubs, RogRocs, Barc, Heart, Short, K1, ZE, Wae, Rush, Deco, Fogs, Gouch Flipside, Harm Flipside, Truly Flipside, Chino3 JIS, Hocus, Kript, Pres NWP, Dear FYC, Dust, Zofo, Ms. TKay, Dio, Miss Maggs, Per, Seze, Crime, Sare, Spec3, Mate, ID UGG, TD, Clark, Bevs, ACH, Half, Sane, Smith, Sabe, Sie, Krow DFL, 2Little and 2Tall. I'm sure there are more, and hopefully they still have shit rocking. I spoke with a few of these cats over email, some of them said they came back out because of my site and my flicks of their shit. That was pretty much the best compliment I've ever received in the graff world.

Sixcentz: How long does one of your rollers take?

Inkhead: Some rollers have been knocked out in less than twenty minutes. Some take up to 4 hours. I used to roll out with ELIK. A few times we went and his rollers took so long that by the time I started the sun was rising. I had to

roll real fast.

Sixcentz: what is your favorite paint? And color?

Inkhead: You have to love that Killz white, either in a can or in a bucket.

Sixcentz: In your opinion who do you think is the most under rated person in the graff world?

Inkhead: Boner, for real. No one gives him any shine, but he fucking straight kills, murders, incenerates and obliterates that shit. I've only seen him up in downtwon Manhattan once or twice, which is ill. He chooses not to paint the easy fame spots. Fuck all city, he is all ghetto. I've seen him do thirteen fill-ins on one building.

Sixcentz: How do you feel about the graffiti that people are doing currently? Anyone you feel?

Inkhead: You know a lot of native New Yorkers love to hate on the out-of-towners. But the out-of- towners are the cats who are putting in a lot of quality work. New Yorkers got lazy over the last ten years. Personally, I don't give a fuck where you were born. If you have the urge to create and destroy, that's fine with me, as long as you respect the rules of graffiti. I'm feeling Gen2 and Oze108, those cats have ill style. They invent a new fill-in every week, rock it, then invent another one. They don't have any limits like most graffiti writers. If people stopped hating and paid more attention, they might learn something.

Thirty years ago, style was region-specific. Certain parts of the country had their own styles. Now with the internet, someone in Boise, Idaho does a fill-in and puts it on the internet and two minutes later someone from New York City is looking at it. That's how New York City is right now. Different kinds of writers with different kinds of styles are all migrating to the city. The melting pot of graffiti is in full bloom, I like that.

Also feeling Rate, Jedi5, Acne, Cecs, Rime, Resk, Mutz, Serf, Sober, Deco, Rush, Gouch, ZE, Seak, Mesoe, Dr. Sex, Host, Serif, Deck, Baby 168, Booker, Host, Tenz, Bran, Taboo, Post AOW, Boo, Aroe, Kuma, Setup, Katsu, Toper BBT, Rime, Desa, Menos, and all of 5MH. I love graff too much.

Sixcentz: Any good stories or funny stories related to painting you wanna share?

Inkhead: Way too many, where can I start?

I was bombing with my boy one night. We climbed on top of this box truck to do some fill-ins on the wall next to the truck. We were up there no longer than two minutes when this other truck pulled up right next to us. We hit the deck and got really shook because the truck was driving really fast, and when it stopped, about a dozen guys jumped out. The guys get out of their truck and pull open the back door of the truck, the one we were on top of. They started climbing in and moving shit out while we were on top. They were in the truck for a few minutes, but it seemed like a few hours. Finally, they pulled the rolling door down, got back in their truck and drove off just as fast as they arrived. We finished our fill-ins.

One winter night I was out painting with my boy. We rolled up to this wall to rock some fill-ins. We just opened up his bag when this car turns off the avenue and heads right towards us. Not too weird, but the car was driving the wrong way down the street. The driver was really drunk or high and crashed right into this huge mountain of snow. My boy and I turn around and start walking up the street. The car door opens and five guys jump out and start chasing us. The streets were covered with ice and I was running real slow. It was like one of those nightmares when you are running as fast as you can but you aren't moving really fast. All of a sudden someone grabs my hood and yolks me down to the ground. All five guys surround me and start kicking me. They take my bag and run their hands through my pockets. They grab my keys. Just as they stop beating me I look up and the guy with my keys throws them as hard as he can into a lot protected by razor wire. They run back to their car and drive away. It was around 2:00 a.m. I had to ride the subways all night with no paint until someone in my crib was awake to let me in. Fucking sucked.

I was painting one night somewhere in the New York City transit system. I had just finished doing a roller and I climbed on top of the wall which was right next to some chain-link fence. I started running on top of the ledge of the wall. I put my left foot forward and it fell right into a cubbyhole. I started falling into it and my face was heading fast as a speeding bullet right towards the sharp concrete corner of the cubbyhole. Instinctively I reach out and grab the chain link fence right before my face got pulverized. Both my legs fell into the cubbyhole and I was left holding myself up by my arm. That incident really stands out in my mind. In action movies, people fall but always save themselves at the last second by miraculously grabbing on to something. I always hated that scene in the movie and thought it was bullshit, but the same thing happened to me. I watch action movies a little differently now.

Another night me and my friend rolled to some outdoor tracks in Brooklyn. We walked to our planned out spot and started rocking some fill-ins. I finished one and heard something. I looked up and saw around ten work-bums dragging their equipment towards us. We hit the deck, lay in the cut and decided to wait it out. The work-bums set up shop and started to do their maintenance right in front of us. Now the only way out of there is for us to come out of our corner and walk right past them. I wasn't trying to stay there all night and I wasn't trying to fight any work-bums. We thought it over and weighed our options. There was one other way to get out. We waited until the next train came. As soon as it was blocking us from the work bums we boated, we ran past the driver and then ran past the entire length of the train. Everyone looking out the window got a great view of the getaway. They never even knew we were there.

I was painting some untouched subway tunnels one night with my boy. To get there we jumped down into the tracks and ran through a no-clearance tunnel. After about two hundred feet the tunnel opened up and there was space to paint. We covered just about every inch with tags and outlines. We were almost finished when we looked up and saw two flashlights walking towards us through the no-clearance tunnels. We didn't take the time to gather up our stuff. We turned around and started running. After the tunnel finished opening up, it went right back to the no-clearance tunnels, we ran right into the mouth of those no-clearance tunnels. Not only were the tunnels no-clearance, but we were running towards the direction of oncoming trains. We ran through the tunnels as fast as we could, but they didn't run straight. They curved and twisted. We turned one corner and found that a whole section of the tunnel was blacked out. We were running next to the third rail through a pitch black tunnel holding onto the corner of the catwalk as a guide. My heart was beating like crazy, I knew that if a train came we were running right towards it and it would not have time to stop. It felt like we were running forever, but I was too excited to be tired. We finally got to the next train station and ran out through the turnstiles. I never even looked back to see who the flashlights belonged to.

One cold winter night my boy and I were painting a stretch of outdoor Brooklyn subway tracks. We were on the express tracks where trains don't normally run. I was designated as first lookout while he went ahead. I had to let him know when the trains were coming because he would be in plain sight of the train when it came. He was rocking fill-ins and I was laying down in between the third rail and the wall with the trains coming from behind me. I couldn't see the trains because I was facing towards the flow of traffic (which is really stupid), I had to listen for them. A few trains came by and each time I whistled at my boy to get low. I was laying on the ground and I heard another train coming. I whistled at my boy and waited. This train was different, I could hear it. It was moving slower and making a lot more noise. I quickly realized that it was a work train. I turn around to see what was happening and BAM! there was a train right fucking next to me. I put my head down and saw the metal part of the train that grabs the third rail for power, it was about one inch from my face. I closed my eyes tightly because sometimes sparks fly from that piece of metal. I just chilled and wait for the train to pass. They never saw me even though they basically ran me over. We finished the spot and went home.

My boys and I went out one night in Brooklyn. We got tanked at this party and decided to leave. We got to the train station and it was completely empty. We had tons of paint and we covered the station with tags and outlines. When the train finally came the whole station smelled like the Rustoleum factory exploded and our hands were filthy. The doors opened and we saw this cop a few cars down stick his head out. We get on the subway, I sit down and start to rub my fingers together to chafe the paint off. A few stops later the cops comes through the doors, walks past everyone in the car and leans right on the door next to our seats. My boys and I keep laughing and joking. After a minute he looked at us and asked real angrily "Hey you guys, what stop did you get on?" I was drunk and ready to act ignorant. I looked at my boy and said real believably "Didn't we transfer from the L train?" My boy agreed and the cop went back to leaning on the door. My boys and I keep talking about the party we were at and the girlies we didn't take home. After another minute he looked at us again and asked real nicely "Would you mind if I looked at your hands?" The paint was long gone from my fingers and I said real innocently "Sure, but why do you want to look at my hands?" I showed him my hands and he was convinced. He opened the next door and walked through the next car looking for whoever grilled that train station. It wasn't me.

Lots of close calls. One night when I was 17 my boy and I were riding the last car of the subway. We were scratching the windows. The train pulled into the next station and stops. Two cops get on and walked right towards us. They stop right in front of us, take one look at us, one look at the window, and keep walking, weird. Another night I was walking my girlfriend home. It was around 9:30 on a Sunday night. I brought a can for the walk. We walked past this deli, I pulled out the can and caught a tag. All of a sudden this cop car screeches to a halt right in front of us. The cop shifts into reverse, does a K turn and drives away. It turned out that the block was the exact border between precincts and the cop had driven half a block too far.

You don't always get lucky. My boys and I hit this fire escape in Soho one night, three levels, three fill-ins. We get climb from the fire escape and start catching marker tags on the corner. Two DTs roll up real fast and throw is in handcuffs. Such a waste, after setting off an untouched spot you get bagged for marker tags. They start the car and drive off. The cop sitting in the passenger seat gets to our corner, looks up at our fill-ins which haven't even dried yet and says "I never noticed those before." New York's Finest.

I lived in Germany for a few months. I used to live in this crazy neighborhood. It was filled with punks, squatters, artists and lots of writers. It wasn't like Williamsburg 2005, it was more like Alphabet City 1979. It was a war zone. The streets and the buildings were covered head to toe in graffiti. Anarchists ruled the night and the German police were always around. Painting in that neighborhood was insane. You literally never had to worry about any citizen becoming a hero, no one who lived there gave a shit. I painted a lot in Germany. I usually painted for self because my German bombing partner was a DJ and was always working nights. I was rolling around East Berlin real late one night. I found this empty lot that was right across from some apartment buildings. I walked into the lot and climbed on top of some construction equipment so I could do some fill-ins on the wall. I was outlining my third fill-in and I heard some people walking into the yard. I turned around and there were two guys walking right towards me really hard, they had this huge pit-bull with them. I got really shook, I started imagining them sicking their pit-bull on me. They roll right up to me and ask me some shit in German. I reply with one of the only things I knew how to say, I told them in German that I don't speak their language. They just said OK and turned around. I finished my fill-ins.

While I was in Europe I visited Prague for a few days during the winter. Every night there I painted. On my second night painting this guy who wasn't a bum asked me for change. I spoke to him in English but he didn't speak any. We communicated for a few minutes with hand signals and noises. I asked him if he wanted to come with me and be my lookout and I would throw him a few bucks at the end of the night. He understood that and we went off into the night. We spent the next few hours destroying the streets of Prague. The cops drove past us a few times and we both saw them, I never officially used his help, but it was nice to have the company. We had a few retarded conversations with our hands and we drank hot chocolate with the prostitutes who were even colder than we were. His name was Jeremy.

Sixcentz: any shout outs?

Inkhead: Glace, Rate, AMS, Resk, Reals, Rate, Net, Phonoh, Deke, Ropas, Mojoe, Chance, Pacman, Nov, Dop KD, Drone ITW (R.I.P.), Bete 718, Cerca, Mega, Spif, Delt, Coffee Cups, Hour, Area, Ques, Lect. Sorry to anyone I

forgot. Peace. The biggest mistake writers make is thinking that they have to keep up. They keep bombing even if they don't want to. They want the streets to ring with their names. But if you truly love painting, then you

will keep coming back to her like an unhealthy relationship with an ex-girlfriend. So a final shout out to anyone who took an extended period of time off from bombing and made a comeback.

Sixcentz: Thanks