218 ☼ The Fourth Beastie Boy: Put Your Pants On & Shoot
What Ricky Powell taught me about showing up, taking pictures, and not needing permission to start
Dear friends,
Quick life update: I’m on crutches for my art! Yesterday I took a tumble down a staircase while filming episode four of “She Just...Disappeared,” the little series you may have seen episode one of (if not, check it out here).
It happened during a scene about getting “the world’s most important roll of film” to the lab. The script had me running down the stairs. Reality had me falling down them. Method acting? Stupidity? Possibly both. Episode two drops Monday on Instagram and YouTube if you want to see what I’m risking my legs for.
But this week’s letter isn’t about me. It’s about Ricky Powell, the legendary hip hop and street photographer. His attitude, his photos, and the lesson he gave me in doing things your own way.
We met in 2019. He called himself The Lazy Hustler, but what I saw was someone who was endlessly curious, present, and real. This issue is a tribute to his spirit and a reminder that we don’t have to do everything perfectly to make something that lasts.
The Lazy Hustler Who Wasn’t
“Listen, there’s no easy hustle.”
That was one of the first things Ricky Powell said to me when we met in a café in Greenwich Village. It was January 2019, and I was sitting across from a legend—the man who photographed hip-hop before it was called hip-hop.
He was 57. He ordered a mimosa. “I want to get a little stupid,” he told the waitress, eyes twinkling somewhere between mischief and charm.
He called himself The Lazy Hustler.
“I’m a lazy bastard,” he told me. “I do the minimum I need to do. And you know what? That works fine for me.”
But lazy? Ricky Powell was anything but lazy.
He photographed the Beastie Boys when no one knew them. Run DMC in front of the Eiffel Tower. Basquiat and Warhol walking through the streets of New York—a photo that’s now iconic.
“You know,” Ricky said, “if you put your pants on and leave the house, anything is possible.”
The Origin Story
He told me how it all started. It was 1985. He was 23. His girlfriend had dumped him for a guy in tie-dye yoga pants.
“Hard dumped,” he said. “I felt humiliated. Crushed.”
A month later, he found a bag of her stuff. Inside: a little Minolta autofocus camera.
“And I thought: you know what? I’m gonna take pictures with this thing. I’m gonna make something out of it, become a photographer. And I’m gonna show that girl she missed out on a big chance!”
That anger, that drive took him everywhere.
In spring 1986, he did his first official shoot with the Beastie Boys. A school bus, a street, just the neighborhood. No studio. No fancy lights. Just what was there.
“Street photography works well for me,” he said. “First of all, it’s free. Second, I just have a natural talent to see what’s dope.”
He knew Ad-Rock from the neighborhood. They played basketball on the same courts. When the Beastie Boys played the Cat Club in ’85, Ricky went to see them.
“They came on stage, jumping, laughing, spraying beer out of 40’s. They were cursing on beat. And I thought: wow, they look like me! I love them.”
Backstage, Ad-Rock introduced him to Mike and Adam. After that, Ricky just rolled with them. Clubs. Gigs in DC and Boston. And then the Raising Hell tour that summer.
Ricky wasn’t a regular photographer. He was the fourth Beastie Boy.
The Rickster
He was embedded. Part of the crew. “Photography opened so many doors for me,” he said. “I went from Joe Schmoe to The Rickster, Downtown Photographer. Literally overnight.”
That was a long time ago. New York had changed, he told me.
“The Village has become a cornball convention,” he said, looking around the streets he’d known all his life. “Avenue A used to be the spot in the Village. So many cool shops, people hanging out, greeting each other. Now it’s all new people trying to outdo each other by not looking at each other.”
I asked when it flipped.
“The Giuliani era,” he said without hesitation. “He ruined New York.”
That anger wasn’t just nostalgia. It was grief. The city that made him—the raw, real city of the 1980s—was gone. But his photos remained. Proof that it had once existed.
Push-Hit-Dummy
His approach—just show up, camera in pocket, shoot when the moment hits—that’s what made his work so good. Nobody posed for Ricky. Nobody pretended. He caught the real moment.
“You know what my PhD is?” he said, grinning. “Push-Hit-Dummy. That’s all you need.”
He showed me photos on his phone. Method Man on West 4th Street in ‘97. DMC and Jam Master Jay in the mirror at the Def Jam office in ‘88. Lenny Kravitz in front of Gem Spa in ‘89. Every shot had a story. Every photo just… happened.
“Look,” he said, pointing to a photo of his mailman. “See how he pops out against that background? The blue contrast, the white? I’m good at recognizing separation.”
Ricky passed away in February 2021. He was only 59.
His work lives on—not just in museums and books, but in every photographer who knows that the best shots aren’t planned. They just happen.
Plain-Jane
At the end of our conversation, I asked him what photo books inspired him. Linda McCartney’s, with Jimi Hendrix on the cover. Fred McDarrah’s Greenwich Village 1963.
“That one’s the Bible to me,” he said.
Why?
“Because they were just plain-jane. Simple. Basic. Just people walking around taking pictures of what they saw. No pretense. Just… real.”
That was Ricky. No pretense. Just real.
And as I listened to his stories, I thought: if you have half his energy, half his guts to just grab your camera and walk out the door—you can do anything.
I think about Ricky once in a while when I’m out shooting. Not because I’m trying to copy him (I can’t). But because he proved that you don’t need permission to start, nor the perfect camera. You just need to put your pants on and leave the house.
His Instagram is still up (@thelazyhustler), full of photos and personality.
So this week: grab your camera. Walk out the door. See what’s dope. And do put your pants on first.
Next week, I will be in Paris for Paris Photo and of course the Process Photo Walk on November 16th with free copies of Hotshoe Magazine and goodies from MPB. Only 3 spots left so RSVP here now if you haven’t yet.
Talk soon,
Wesley
P.S. I recorded an audio version of this issue for Dutch national radio this morning on NPO Radio 1 during De Nacht Is Zwart. It’s the fifth in a monthly column I do over there. If you understand Dutch, you can listen here.
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This Week’s Camera + Tools
Camera: Pentax 67ii, 105mm 2.4 lens
Filmstock: Kodak Portra 400, exposed for 200 ISO
My current go-to set up: Canon EOS R5 + Canon RF 24-70 mm f/2.8 L IS USM
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I hope you get better soon. Take care.
Sorry to hear about your tumble. Did it make it to the final cut?
It must have been quite the experience to hang out with and photograph Ricky Powell. Have you seen the 2013 documentary Everybody Street? He’s one of the featured photographers and he comes across as quite the character. If you haven’t seen it, it’s well worth tracking it down.