I remember one important day in a February long ago like it was yesterday. It was the day I began training and then screening all the new airbrush artist applicants for the 1979 season. On that day I didn’t just pick the best artists from the room, but I ended up picking quite a number of lifelong friends. I remember each and every individual encounter with that motley cast of some of the most interesting kids who would ever put on a uniform at Six Flags Over Georgia. Although this was the third year of the airbrush operation out at the park it was the first year when everything came together to make it into a highly successful business model using a larger staff of artists than the previous years.
That’s the afternoon I met Ricky Patrick, who at that time was introducing himself to everyone as Richard Patrick. Most of the folks who attended this event were inexperienced, young high school artists who had never actually held an airbrush until that day. There were a few there that had a bit of background like Mark Perkins who was 5 years older than me, and Clay Croker who managed to get hired late in the previous year by the former lease holder of the operation, Tourist Arts, a subsidiary company of Pate Productions out of St. Louis. I was the head of their airbrush operation the year before, but when I saw what a disaster they were I knew they would be fired, so I resigned and waited for the next season. With some convincing from his friend, Jeff Gazaway, Clay came onboard shortly after I left.
Like Clay and Mark, Ricky had already been working on his airbrush skills prior to showing up. He had not worked professionally yet, but had been pretty busy with lots of projects and was chomping at the bit to take it to the next level. I can say with certainty nobody had more exuberance for the craft than Ricky did that day. You could already tell he had a sense of destiny with what he was entering into.
Now when you get a young group of mostly high school seniors together who are all “art kids” you are going to have a pretty kooky collection of individuals, and this group was top shelf when it came to kookiness, and I loved every one of them for it! Ricky was definitely no exception. All you had to do was look outside in the parking lot at his red hatchback that had a giant bubble on top! He had cut a giant hole in the roof of his car and put a big round skylight dome over it to make his car look like a space ship. I am not kidding!
We were barely into the first day in the park when Rick earned his nickname, Spiny. Without going into too much detail Clay Croker was walking behind him on the first day and was trying to call to him, but couldn’t remember his name, so in a bizarre Clay-like decision yelled, “Hey Spiny!” When Rick turned around it was all over. “Spiny” he would now forever be among all his artist friends.
Ricky worked probably harder than any other artist at the park that season, and pretty much every season after that. He simulated my work to a nearly uncanny degree. For a brief time he even copied my signature on some of his paintings since we were both going by Ricky around that time. Although I appreciated that with imitation comes flattery I asked him to please come up with a different signature! It was no big deal.
After a few years Ricky partnered up with Gary Hooks, the old merchandising department head that I once worked with in the early part of the 1978 season before the park sold the lease to Pate Productions. I really liked working with Gary and that had a lot to do with me resigning later that year before Clay came on board.
Ricky and Gary took over the operation for a period of time, but it was around that time that I had wandered away with my new career as an advertising art director. For the next few years I mostly lost touch with Rick, but I did keep up with him a bit through friends and occasionally coming across his articles in Airbrush Digest magazine. Rick had made something of a celebrity of himself and even began doing Airbrush Digest workshops on a cruise ship*. It really seemed Rick had found his way to his dream at that point.
We never lost touch, but unfortunately only checked in with each other from time to time. Lives get busy and universes expand. Then we forget some of the things that made our lives grand. Ricky will be sorely missed. His exuberance that I never thought would fade. His laugh. His humble sense of humor, because honestly there were days when my friends and I gave Ricky more shit than he deserved. Rick was good. He wanted to make a dent in the art world. I think just maybe he only wanted some of us to be proud of him. Well, Spiny, you did very well my friend. I’m so very sorry things got so hard for you in the end. You made great art. You made us laugh. You shared lasting friendships with all of us kooky guys that came together on a cold February day in 1979. Godspeed my friend. Paint those beautiful sunsets out there for us now. We’ll be watching.
Letters From Nod 