I was fairly blown away by news, last night, that Ricky Powell had passed away. Last I checked, no cause for death was reported, but the photographer, consummate character and neighborhood legend has been a fixture here in downtown Manhattan for decades. Most famous for his associations with his kindred spirits in the Beastie Boys (some called him the fourth Beastie), Powell established himself as an artist in his own right via his photographs of New York City luminaries, his cable access television show “Rappin’ with the Rickster” and just from being an easily-spotted face in and around the West Village.
As a longtime fan of the Beastie Boys and avid watcher of “Rappin’ With The Rickster,” I remember sheepishly saying hi to Ricky, once in the `90s, on Greenwich Avenue, only steps away from various locations he’d photographed Mike D, Ad-Rock and the late MCA. Without missing a beat, he acknowledged my salutation with an endearing degree of louche insouciance. Back in 2012, I penned a florid post with the aid of Bob Egan all about pinpointing the location of a certain iconic photo Powell had taken of the Beasties, on which Powell himself gamely weighed in on in the comments section.
At the tail end of 2015, I landed the job I now hold after a worrying 16 months of unemployment and insolvency. As a dubious award to myself for this achievement, I treated myself to a lovingly framed print of that same Beastie Boys photo, technically titled “The Charles Street Shuffle,” by Powell himself.
A year or two later, I briefly exchanged words with Powell again, as he was looking to track down a VHS copy of the “Rappin’ With the Rickster” compilation I’d bought somewhere (possibly Rocks in Your Head on Prince Street) back when the Earth was young, but I’d since purged most of my VHS cassettes, and could not help him in the quest.
Walk around certain westerly portions of Greenwich Village and, if you look hard enough, you can still spot a few of Powell’s tags, lamenting “new-jack cornballs” in his signature, classic graffiti font.
Goodnight, Ricky … you were taken too soon, and wherever you are now is that much cooler for your presence.
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