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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Monday
May182009

The sun rises over the Bay of Bengal

It was still dark when nephew Vijay knocked came to get Melanie and me at the Chennai hotel where he had put us up for the night, and it remained dark as we walked about one mile to the beach.

Vijay was eager to show us a sunrise over The Bay of Bengal. As the dawn glow began to light up the eastern horizon, we could see a low band of clouds that was almost certain to the block the view of the rising sun, but we decided to hang out and watch anyway, to see what it would look when the sun did make it over the clouds.

A bird flew by.

Chennai fishermen paddle into the dawn to make their living.

A wave rolls past the fisherman.

We cannot yet see the sun, but it is reflected off the half-moon above.

The sun makes it over the clouds, over the fisherman.

Two men walk by with a dog.

This happened yesterday morning. Obviously, circumstance has prevented me from keeping anything close to a daily blog of our travels in India. I think circumstance will continue to do so for the remainder of the trip.

But I was just reading the Anchorage Daily News online and they ran a series of pictures taken in April, so I think it will be alright if I post most of my India material - including the wedding - after I return home.

And Vijay - thanks not for showing us the sunrise, but for everything that you did for us during our stay in Chennai.

You are a great host, nephew.

(As always, a click on a picture will reveal a larger copy of any image.)

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Reader Comments (5)

Wow! Great to see it online

May 18, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterVijay

You are welcome, and I would love to host you again anytime! And I am hoping you would come again.

May 18, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterVijay

I wait patiently for the photos and stories of your trip to India. I'm sure they will be beautiful. (I hope you took some pictures of the divine food served in that country.)

May 19, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMissSunshine

Awesome Pics Bill.
These are one of the unique pics I have ever seen.

Manu-Suji

May 19, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterManu- Suji

Wow! The sunrise pic's worth a Million Dollars! My Guru is THE best!

May 29, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterSoundarya

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