Saturday, January 14, 2006

Stan Whitehead

A week ago, I went to the bakery to see my friend John play piano. Jose also works for the bakery. His job is to run your bread through a slicer. When there are no customers waiting for slicing, Jose often stands next to John. I try to take a picture of Jose and John using my cell phone camera. Jose notices too quickly and walks away before I get the picture.

This makes me think of Stan Whitehead. Stan photographed security guards at art museums. You see the security guards looking down and wandering away . Stan also photographed “middles”. Even with no head in the picture, you can infer a lot. Stan would sometimes overleaf his photos and draw on them. If Stan’s art has a point, it may be to lead you away from where eyes generally focus.

Stan’s favorite photograph is of a school aged girl at a street fair. She smiles and looks at the camera. Stan had never met this girl and had no idea why she poses for him. Stan finally decided that she was just trying to be helpful. Perhaps, the girl understood that Stan wanted a picture of something real, like her. Security guards, bread slicers, and a little girl who passes by are all art, she understood.

Stan loved to read his poetry in front of groups. Several times, Stan’s writer’s group performed at Barnes and Noble in El Cerrito. Stan wanted his writer’s group to understand that our work is art.

After quitting my job, I needed to think. Some people think by talking; I think by writing. A bulletin arrived from the City of El Cerrito offering classes, including a writing group. I went to this group at the senior center, and though I was the only non-senior, I was accepted. Stan Whitehead facilitated this group. Stan may have paid me special attention, as I was the same age as his son. I came to respect all of the writers. It was not just the polished people who had something interesting to say. It was everyone. Stan’s view of the world demanded this to be true, so it was.

At the end of Stan’s writer’s group sessions, we would have ten minutes to write what came to our heads when we looked at a photograph or piece of art that Stan would provide. This is my ten minutes about Stan.

Stan Whitehead died yesterday. He was a poet, artist, teacher and performer.

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