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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Tuesday
Apr282009

Doreen makes a painting, Apache-Navajo filmmaker walks into Barrow's Osaka Restaurant; I go to Wainwright

Doreen Simmonds is the daughter of the late, truly great, Reverend Samuel Simmonds, the first Iñupiat to become an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church. He also designed and painted the mural in the Barrow Chapel, showing all the peoples of the world under the care of Christ.

Doreen remembers being her father's "go-for" when she was small and he was creating the mural. She loved to help him and she loved to be in the church with him. She also loved to do art herself.

She did the painting above in 2002, after seeing a photograph of a mother polar bear with two cubs, one of them dead. Doreen was moved by the photo, but wanted to create a happier version and so she painted it with only the mother and the living cub - yet, she could not stop herself from depicting the sorrow that she saw in the mother.

Then, she added the dead cub in.

Two years later, one of her two sons died of cancer.

"How did you know?" friends who saw the painting asked her, "how did you know your son was going to die?"

This is Dustinn Craig, and if you are watching the series, "We Shall Remain" on public TV, be certain not to miss the May 4 episode on the Apache. Dustinn is the writer/director/producer for that episode and also did some of the shooting and editing.

You will also see some of Margie's country.

When Dustinn was small, from the time that he was a toddler, my wife and I sometimes baby sat him, and he often played with Jacob and Caleb. We lived in Whiteriver, Arizona at the time, the capitol of Margie's White Mountain Apache Tribe. Dustinn's father, Vincent Craig, Navajo, was also married to a White Mountain Apache and his parents were our best friends.

Today I was eating lunch in Osaka Restaurant in Barrow with Savik when Dustinn came walking in with local filmmaker Rachel Edwardson and her Australian husband, Dave.

He had just arrived in town to do a week's worth of work.

Little Dustinn Craig.

Soon I was on a plane, headed for Wainwright.

Self-portrait, me on the plane. 

Pic through the car window, as Bob drove me to the home that I always knew as the residence of the late Ben and Florence Ahmaogak, who always made me feel at home, like family. Bob is married to their daughter, Mary Ellen.

"Hello brother,"she greetedc when I entered the door.

"Hello sister," I greeted back.

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Reader Comments (1)

What a small world! I got to chaperone Dustinn and his gang at nalukataq four or five years ago on behalf of ASNA. I said to him, There is a local film maker you need to meet. Introduced him to Rachel..

April 28, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMary Sage

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