A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Friday
Sep122008

September 10 and 11, 2001/ September 11, 2008 (injured series, part 2)

  

This morning, September 11, 2008, I took a long walk through my part of Wasilla and as I did, I thought about September 11, 2001, and September 10, the day that preceded it. September 10 had dawned sunny with a bit of frost on the ground, but the frost quickly melted and then the day turned warm. The sky was that deep blue that it gets around here in the fall. The trees were yellow or turning yellow, and new snow graced the tops of even some moderate mountains, which stood out sharp and beautiful in the still, cloudless, air. 

In that year, I had not expected to feel real warmth again until spring, but the afternoon turned hot - maybe into the 60's. So I invited Margie to join me in the car and we drove up into the glacier-carved, Matanuska Valley, to the place pictured above. We got out of the car. The air smelled terrible, of fish rot and decay, for the rivulet-braided banks of the Matanuska River were littered with spawned out, dead salmon.

Despite the odor, I was, as I always am when I am out an about in my home of Alaska, awestruck. Thrilled to be here. What a privilege!

A soon to be spawned out salmon propels past those who are already dead on a beautiful September 10. 

 

Spawned out salmon reaches a dead end.

As is always the case when I am in the midst of Alaska, I felt this deep, unattainable, longing to be in Alaska, to be part of Alaska. I feel this longing the strongest when I am right here, in the midst.

So today, as I walked, I thought about what I had saw and experienced on September 10, 2001, and how September 11 had dawned equally beautiful, but I experienced a rude awakening that day. It happened at 6:45 AM, right after I got out of bed and let Jim, the black cat, out of our bedroom into the hall. 

As I closed the door and started back to the bed, I heard footsteps in the hall, followed by a loud, "Mom!"

It was our oldest son, Jacob, who in the spring had graduated from Arizona State University. I opened the door again, irritated that he was speaking so loudly. "She's in bed, sleeping!" I whispered loudly, for I did not want him to wake her.

Jacob ignored me, and came right into the bedroom. "Mom!" he exclaimed. Margie sat straight up in bed. "They bombed the World Trade Center!"

I will say no more about that day, the days that followed, the weeks, the months, the years. You already know about it.

So this morning, as I walked through a cool, very light, on and off again sprinkle, I kept my eyes to the road, and thought about these things. Then, as I climbed a curving rise on Gail Street I lifted my eyes and saw this house, flying this flag.

I kept walking. Soon I saw this postman, delivering mail.

A bit beyond a postman, I saw this flag, one of two adorning either side of a driveway.

And just a few houses beyond, I spotted this dog, looking at me from this window.

I reached Lucille Street, and turned to walk down the bike trail. I did not see anyone on bikes, but I did see this young man riding his skateboard.

 

Come lunchtime, Margie and I could not stay in the house so we went and ate hamburgers at Carl's Jr. On the way home, she drove slowly past the main Wasilla fire station. Flags, representing all those killed in the attacks of 9/11, had been posted in the yard. 

 

In the late evening hours, I took a break from some work I was doing in my office and I stepped into the house. This is what I saw.

 

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Reader Comments (4)

I found your blog on dpreview.com. Very nice. I like reading and looking at photographers blogs. A friend of mine visited Alaska last summer and ran the Mt. Marathon 5k race in Seward and I've been itching to come to Alaska ever since.

September 12, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterEric

Bill,

I left Kotzebue for Anchorage a year and a half ago because I got sick...now I'm packing up to move to Oregon, probably to face surgery. If that works out I'll be back in Anchorage in about four months. This Palin thing is too much. I had a photographer friend from San Francisco here for dinner night before last. He's on the Palin plane and headed for Nevada in the morning. What craziness. All the best, James Mason. By the way, they must have got pretty mad at me on DPReview. They still won't let me sign up again.

September 12, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterjames mason

Thank you, Eric, for the god comment. Since you've been itching to come, you had better come.

James - Good to hear from you! But I am sorry to learn that you got sick. I have often wondered what became of you. I'm afraid I very seldom mingle with other photographers and media folk these days, so I do not hear all the rumors and such as I once did.

Good luck in Oregon, especially if you have surgery. I don't know how an Alaskan like you will last long in Oregon.

It seems like you ought to be be able to keep coming back to dpreview under different names, but then there was no one else like you on Dpreview, and when you would try a new name, it quickly became obvious it was you.

Still, I think it might be worth a try to come in under another disguise.

September 13, 2008 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

Bill,

I've got lots to say about the Canon G9 and G10. Get in touch with me at the above email address. I think these point and shoots herald big changes and a whole new "old category" of cameras. - James

September 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterjames mason

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