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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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« 2009 in review - August: Kalib, Muzzy, Royce and a magical cloud; The Spirit of Wasilla rolls through Wasilla; horses; the mushroom cover up; the Mahoney's: Patti fights for her life. | Main | 2009 in review - June: Kalib goes south, I go north, Point Lay celebrates in first Nalukatak in 72 years; Jason and his boat crew »
Thursday
Dec312009

2009 in review - July: Kalib goes south, I go north; Margie gets injured all over again

DateThursday, December 31, 2009 at 6:56PM

Okay, I am hurrying along now. Wainwright: Max Akpik and his granddaughter, Cora Ann.

The Frontier Flying Service Flight from Wainwright to Barrow.

Baby Rebecca Brower, winner of the Barrow Baby contest, in the arms of her grandmother, Rebecca Brower.

These are the three who competed for this year's Miss Teen Top OF The World title: Rochelle Oyagak, Selma Khan and Freida Nageak. As you can see, they had to stand against a strong wind.

Selma, who sewed the parka that she wears in honor of her grandmother, was awarded the title. She is now a freshman at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks.

With some encouragment from her Aaka, four-year old Jacklyn Sceeles dashed to third place in a Barrow Fourth of July footrace.

I went on a caribou hunt with the Nageaks. That's Ernest holding the rifle. Kuuniaq is pointing towards a large herd up the rise. A rather special story came out of this hunt, a story that is hardly even hinted at in this picture. But it is in the Uiñiq that will soon be distributed. I hope to later share it here.

This is Kunuknowruk, also known as Pete Lisbourne, a treasured friend and the man who hosted me during my trip to Tikigaq, also known as Point Hope. For those of you familiar with my book, Gift of the Whale, he is the man who you saw picking murre eggs off the 900-foot cliffs of Cape Thompson, and then resting on the very edge at the very top with a cache of eggs in front of him.

Although he is not inclined to speak about it at all, Kunuknowruk is not only a Vietnam veteran, but one decorated for heroism, for risking his own life to save another when others held back.

Jimmy Nukapigak on the Kuukpik River, taking whitefish back home to his village of Nuiqsut.

Me on the jet headed back to Anchorage.

I went straight from the jet to the Moose's Tooth, where my family treated me to pizza as a late birthday celebration. When I opened the present that Jacob, Lavina, and Kalib gave me, I found an ultrasound of my next grandchild, loosely scheduled to be born on February 27.

The day after my return, Margie fell again and broke her knee for the second time. She suffered even more than before. It was very hard.

As I pedaled my bike, this kid came pedaling in the opposite direction.

Kalib and Muzzy.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment2 Comments |

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Reader Comments (2)

Wow.. I didn't know you had written a book Mr.Hess.. I don't know if I can find it in India but I'll surely try to find and read it..
The picture of the caribou hunt is spectacular.. Eager to know what the story connected with it is..
And baby Rebecca is too cute for words.. That beauty deserved to win :)

January 1, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterAsh

I live in Alaska, and it's pretty rare to see such glimpses into rural Alaska (especially in the far north)...we don't see a lot of this type of coverage in the newspapers because the communities are pretty remote and many of them don't have any news outlets. So, a HUGE shout out to Bill for once again showing us these places in photos. This is a true service.

January 3, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdahli22

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