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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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Wednesday
Feb252009

Kivgiq: The gift that made me dance; a happy interruption

DateWednesday, February 25, 2009 at 12:09AM

Isaac Killigvuk is a whaling captain from Point Hope, and when he came dancing toward me at Kivgiq, extending this watch in my direction, I at first thought that he wanted me to take a picture of it before he gave it as a gift to someone.

Then I realized that he was giving it to me. This meant that I had to go out on the floor and dance with him. Despite what I do to make a living, at heart I am a terribly shy person and I do not know how to dance. Every Kivgiq, I do dance at least once, but I pick a very crowded invitational fun dance and then go hide in the crowd.

Now, I had to dance in front of everybody. Worse yet, Isaac dances with such soul, power and grace, that I knew I would look pitiful and awkward by comparison.

But something happened that I would not have expected. I took the watch and then, as I watched Isaac's movements, I suddenly felt something inside me; it started out in my back and then moved into my arms and legs and then they started to move. I danced. People clapped. They cheered, they shouted.

When the dance ended, Isaac and I embraced. I was about to run off and hide but the crowd shouted, "more! more!" And so I danced again, with Isaac, the whaling captain whose father once drifted away on the ice and then, after an amazing experience in which he found himself not so alone as a person by himself on an ice floe would expect to be, drifted back again.

Now I owe Isaac a gift. All I have to give is photographs and somewhere in my hap-hazard, chaotic, 35 mm film archive there are some of his late father. I think I know what I must give to him.

Always, the women of Wainwright dance with such grace and beauty.

Such beauty.

Suddenly, the dance leader's motions are interrupted by the rush of a tiny girl.

The dance continues. You can expect to see the girl in motion in this line in future years. She is Kara and her beautiful mother is Taktuk.

I want to make a good Kivgiq spread, but so far I have still only touched a small percentage of my take, and it is late and I am tired. I will try to get in at least one more sample. Maybe tomorrow, but I don't know. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, but I am planning to take a break to see if I can get Margie into a a movie theatre in Anchorage.

And here is a bicyclist, right here in Wasilla.

 

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment1 Comment |
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Reader Comments (1)

WOW!! It's always nice to see pictures of what I call "HOME" Barrow is where I was born & raised - I obviously left part of my heart there!! Seeing pictures and reading stories makes it sooo much easier on me living in the South (Oklahoma), since I am HOMESICK very often!! Especially when I hear of all the activities going on like Kivgiq, Christmas & July 4th Games, and most especially Nalukataq!!

If anyone can capture the BEST MOMENTS & MEMORIES......it's BILL HESS! Growing up as a young child my family (Leavitt-Rexford's) knew Bill VERY WELL! We were always told "He's like family - Smile at Him!!"

As to your Gift from Isaac, I can just feel the vibrations of all the excitment of the crowd - puts chills down my spine! We know you capture all the moments but it's always nice to see our HOMETOWN PHOTOGRAPHER out there on the dance floor, experiencing what we do!! I'm sure you looked just as good as Isaac did, but you know - it all comes from the heart!!

Lastly - I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your heart with all of us!! Much appreciated.

Your Hometown Native,
Barbara Morse

PS - If you can email me, I'd like to ask you a few questions about my Aaka (Grandmother) Bertha Ahlook Leavitt

March 20, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterBarbara E Morse (Rexford)

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