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.

Blog archive
Blog arhive - page view
« Bhanumati - Mother of the bride presents the wedding in miniature | Main | The wedding - setting the stage, part 4: Bride and Groom »
Monday
Jun012009

Tomorrow, I will return to the wedding and India, but for now I must take a break and go bike riding in Wasilla

At the moment, I am frustrated to the extreme. Bike riding is a good thing to do when you are frustrated. I am frustrated because I just spent the past few hours taking a first look at my shoot of Soundarya and Anil's wedding. Now I face the terrible irony that I journeyed all the way to India specifically to photograph their wedding, got a decent enough take of various events that preceded the wedding, plus a pretty good shoot of all the things that we did in India after the wedding, but my shoot of the wedding itself...

Despite the fact that I was in their country, I should never have yielded to the hired photographer and his videographer. I should have made an issue of the fact that I traveled all the way from Alaska to India to do a shoot of love, a shoot of the heart, and I should have insisted that they back off, kill that glaring light and let me do the shoot that I had come to India to do!

Ohhhhhhhh - that monster floodlight!

Ohhhhhhhh - that out-turned palm and push of the hand!

Still, my dear Soundarya and Anil, remember always the deep friendship and love that brought me to India and your wedding. That is what matters now, more than the pictures. They will never be as they would have been, but the friendship will be.

As frustrated with this take as I am, I will still post a wedding series. At the very end, it will take a rather nice turn.

Back to bike riding: I have just loaded pictures that I have taken over the past three days or so as I rode my bike about Wasilla.

In the image above, I am coming down Ward's Road, nearing home, after a short ride of less than five miles.

Even when I bike ride, I am cognizant of any airplane that flies overhead. When I was in India, I decided that I should give myself a goal to replace my crashed airplane by July 14, 2010.

This is an absurd goal, given the fact that it is going to be a genuine struggle just to hang on to what we have until then.

Still, I want to have an airplane again. I need an airplane again. I can hardly stand not having an airplane. Time is running out and I am tired of being bound to the ground, able to fly only in other people's airplanes.

Plus, this blog can never be what I want it to be unless I get an airplane.

This is Alaska, my friends, and you cannot get around this place properly unless you have an airplane.

No, not even flying commercially, unless you are very, very, wealthy.

Consider my last trip north, to the Arctic Slope - to Barrow and Wainwright, just before I went to India.

My airfare for those two relatively small hops cost me about the same as did my airfare to Bangalore and back!

How absurd is that?

I bike down Lucille Street towards Shrock Road, towards the Talkeetna Mountains.

And then yesterday Lavina surprised me when she came into my office to tell me that she and Jacob were going to take Kalib on a bike ride. She asked me if I wanted to come. It would be a short ride - three miles round trip - at a slow pace, but I had never been bike riding with my grandson before, so off I went.

Lavina and Kalib.

Today, towards the end of an eight-mile bike ride, I traveled through Upper Serendipity. How I detest Serendipity! I do not detest the people who live there, nor do I resent them. They are just doing what people do.

But when one knows untrammeled country the way I knew Serendipity before it became Serendipity, and then one is forced to watch helplessly as it becomes what it is today, it is an extremly painful thing. Back then, I would also ride my bike through this area - on narrow trails originally tamped out by moose. I would see no roads, no houses, no pavement; seldom would I see another person.

Now this is what I see.

In a way, though, it is a good exercise for me, considering how much of my life has been spent with Native people, from the Lakota to the Apache to all the Alaska Natives. The loss that I feel in Serendipity is so tiny, by comparison.

And the area now called Serendipity was their loss even before it was mine.

As I came down the Upper Serendipity hill toward Lower Serendipity, I saw a robin standing in the road in front of me.

As I approached, I pointed my pocket camera at it. At the moment it raised its wings, I snapped the shutter. Compared to my DSLR's, the pocket camera is a bit slow to react, but it is easy to carry when I ride a bike.

Just beyond the robin, I turned the pocket camera toward the Talkeetnas. Up there is Hatcher Pass, and Gold Mint Trail. I hope to take the bike up there, before the summer is over, and do some real trail riding. First, I need to get in better shape. Pretty hard to do, given all the traveling I have ahead of me.

Still... maybe by August or September.

Watch this blog and find out.

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Reader Comments (2)

The picture with the Robin taking off is super.

June 2, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterVijay

Well, you are back in one piece, having participated in an important ceremony with dear friends.

I am going through your blogs backwards, so I would say that although you make not have recorded the ceremony in the way you would have preferred, you were there (the most important fact) and did take some pictures of a very lovely bride and her entourage.

June 3, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMissSunshine

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