I’ve heard the complaints about Instagram, now everybody thinks they’re a photographer. RP – I’m not a photographer, don’t group me in with those jerkoffs. O – I was going to ask, because there are photographers who resent Instagram. I love Instagram, it’s the latest phase of my photography career. Get the fuck away from me.” It’s my page, it’s my world, it’s for me and my peoples, who I relate to. Go back to your fucking cave, in Wyoming, wherever you are. Seriously, I hate when jerkoffs get on there and they put a stupid comment, they think they’re funny.
You want to see how many people are waiting to be my friend? A thousand plus. RP – Dude, there’s mad kooks on there! Tell me your thing I’ll take you past everybody. O – You’re on Instagram, huh? But your account is private… O – There was once a girl there selling herself as well, along with drugs. RP – Oh yeah, some rich girl was in the news a couple years ago, she got busted selling pot out of the dorms. O – With the dudes offering dope to NYU kids. Well I live in a little room, so I don’t host too much for business meetings. I feel like I’ve heard you refer to Washington Square Park as your office. Sometimes that’s the case, depends what company I’m in. Almost one of those people who likes animals better than people. O – You’ve got a soft spot for animals yourself. She was nutty but she had a heart of gold for stray animals. But I give her props, because she would bring home stray animals all the time. Basically I think she just got doinked and got pregnant, manned up and took care of me. O – You had a good relationship with your mom? That’s how it was with a lot of my friends, we all had it like that.
Yeah, then 9th Street, I grew up around the corner.
Charles street shuffle driver#
Right around the corner from where Taxi Driver was filmed, so I remember that corner of 13th and 3rd well. My mom’s from Brooklyn, but she broke out, and I remember moving to Murray Hill and then to the Village.
Just gonna get some water and a napkin and I’ll be ready to start. What’s your name again? Nice to meet you. I just ducked it, but I woke up feeling… I’ll be alright in a second, sorry. Shhh.” I didn’t want the fire department to come, and get reported to the building. The creepy lady in the building came down the stairs, she’s like “Do you know what’s going on?” I was like, “No, go away. I live in a little studio and I was just like “Oh, no.” Turned into one of those catastrophes, I put it out, I was trying to shovel it with record cover albums, going out to the back to throw it out, smoke getting in the hallway. RP – I was buggin’ too, I was like, I gotta get this shit out of here. But I tried it last night, and I guess they sealed it from the roof. Last night… I thought I was slick, they told everyone in my building that had a fireplace they had to get ‘em shut for some reason, and I bypassed getting mine sealed. I can’t really breathe in cold water…or, air. He arrives a few minutes late in a bit of a stupor, shell-shocked by the freezing weather. He’s a little out of control, but the man knows what he’s doing.Ī few days prior Ricky met me on West 8th at Eva’s, a health food café where every busboy knows his name and his photos tile the walls. The HR lady in the back row is visibly uneasy, but Ricky’s roguish charm is disarming, and the crowd is thoroughly amused. His live presentation is part standup routine, part history lesson, peppered throughout with irreverent catchphrases, nicknames and ludicrous anecdotes, and interrupted more than once by his tipsy overtures aimed at certain females in the audience. He’s often associated with the Beastie Boys-his close friendship with the rap group was formative to his career, and they feature in some of his more recognizable early work-but his shots capture everyone from Rakim, LL Cool J and Run DMC to Keith Haring, Warhol and Basquiat. He’s been brought in to show a selection of his renowned street photography, mainly informal portraits and candids from the hip-hop and art scenes of ‘80s New York. “It’s really unusual for me to be in midtown in a corporate office, I’m usually in the West Village being bohemian.” Ricky showed up early smelling curiously pungent, and uncorked a bottle of red from the refreshments table well before the crowd filed in. That’s a compliment, they were all very creative.” A group of unsuspecting young branding execs have crammed into their company break room on the fortieth floor of a Times Square high-rise to watch Ricky Powell give a slideshow. “Oh, dip! This reminds me of a substitute teacher gig I had with a special ed class once.
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