Richard Ressman is either a lunatic or a genius. He allows no middle ground. He is unapologetic and uniquely himself. This photographic collection, which I have taken the liberty to subtitle: Portraits with a Punch Line, serves well to introduce his personality and artistry. What can be said about a grown man who insists on carrying a backpack containing fifty pounds of camera gear everywhere he goes, and I do mean everywhere? But it is precisely that kind of behavior that lies at the heart of, "how in the world could one man take so many photographs?" It is remarkable, as you will see. He has been "camera ready" for nearly fifty years. This collection, it must be noted, is but a sample of his magnum opus: wall of fame. His home contains a wall of confluent portraits stretching floor-to-ceiling, thirty feet wide (and there are stacks of unused gems in closets). Over the past three decades, I have been the recipient of these unsolicited 8x10" photographic gifts. The breath and depth of these photographic representations are the result of Richard's confident mastery of his own eye, camera (always the gigantic Nikon), lens (the more glass the better), light and dark (he always looked for both), subject (preferred locating notables), and software (a minimalist when it came to Photoshop). Which brings up an interesting fact. He was a very early adapter of digital technology. I believe he bought a new camera about every six months for ten years in order to keep current as the technology evolved. His obsession did not end with camera bodies though. He has cases of lenses, a room of Apple computers, five back-ups, and printers (one the size of a Subaru). Madness can be expensive. Behind every artist is a persona trying to appear "normal." Richard did this by appropriating the education and training necessary to become a board certified orthopedic surgeon. My theory about artists is simple: normal people see the world, well, normally, like a bell-shaped curve in statistics class-most see things the same way, smack in the middle, or within two standard deviations of the mean. Artists do not fall into the normal zone, they reside in the "tails" and by nature, they do not see things the way normal people see them. Normal people delight in the way artists see things because their work exposes a part of life that is otherwise unseen to them. Richard appears to have the super intelligence necessary to see things both ways, so-to-speak. If you did not know him, personally, you might think he was normal. He is not. He is an artist. Disciplined photographers are like NBA jump shooters. They analyze every component and rehearse their form a million times in practice: their foot stance, elbow position, eyes locked on the front of the rim, the ball just so on the finger tips, the wrist flexion, the smooth upward arch, and the follow-through. Richard has mastered RAW, light, contrast, shape and pattern, composition, exposure, depth of field, focus and so on. When he shoots, his muscle memory activates all that experience. The results are nothing but net. Portrait photos are different from landscapes. A good portrait is a moment. It is a pause looking into something intimate and personal. Even a casual examination of Richard's collection will summon comparisons from the great photo portrait artists of the twentieth century: Annie Leibovitz' lush look at stardom's toll, Yousuf Karsh's representation of life forces etched upon a face, the unexpected of Diane Arbus, Dorthea Lange's bleak nobility, or the iconic looks of Steve McCurry. Mostly, I would hope that these remarkable photos do not end-up like Vivian Maier's lost photos. This work deserves to be seen. In photography, beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it's in the eye of the man holding the camera. But, then again, what do I know-I use a pocket point-and-shoot. -David C. Miller, M.D.