Ricky Powell grew up in Greenwich Village and spent the 1980s and 90s shooting the people around him with a cheap camera, and this film follows him through the archive that resulted. He talks about hustling his way backstage and onto tour buses with the Beastie Boys, who nicknamed him the "Fourth Beastie," and about the chance encounters that put Keith Haring, Cindy Crawford, and dozens of other downtown fixtures in front of his lens. Interviews and contact sheets trace how a self-taught street photographer with no formal training became a fixture of the same party scene he was documenting, treated as an insider by the musicians and artists he shot rather than as a hired hand. The film stays close to Powell's own voice, blunt and unpolished, as he walks through prints spread across his cluttered apartment and explains what he was actually chasing with the camera. What emerges is less a career retrospective than a portrait of a specific downtown New York moment, seen through one photographer who happened to be standing in the right doorway.