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
Aug122009

I spent my day pretty much right here, in my office in my house in Wasilla, but sometimes I forgot and thought I was on the Arctic Slope

Except for a couple of brief breaks to eat and walk, I spent the day right where I sit right now, in front of my computer screen, my mind deep into the Arctic Slope. This is how it will be for quite some time to come - until I feel good enough about Margie's progress that I can return to the Slope. 

Due to her fall, I am way behind where I had thought I would be by now, but I am going strong, editing my take from the five weeks that I just spent up there as one step that I must take to put my special issue of Uiñiq Magazine together.

As always when I must do almost nothing but sit here and work, Jimmy, my good black cat buddy, has been right here with me, all the time, helping me along. Today, I worked on the caribou hunt take and if you are curious about all those black dots on the screen, they are mosquitoes. Here, Jimmy uses his tail to suggest how I should crop this image. I am going to reject his suggestion, however, and you will understand why once you see the picture unobstructed by his tail and butt.

The truth is, cats are not good picture editors. And you should never listen them when they suggest crops. They are lousy picture croppers.

The onscreen picture was taken at 12:02 AM, July 14, my birthday, in the light of the midnight sun.

As I was unable to find the time to edit and post very many images at all while I traveled, but would like to share the stories with my blog readers who will never see Uiñiq, I think that once the special is out, I will break it down into several posts and run it here, just for you.

I will even be able to run pictures that a lack of space will not allow me to put in the magazine.

Of course, the day did not begin at my computer, but with me lying in bed, wondering whether I should make this the fourth day in a row that I disciplined myself to eat oatmeal, or if I should get out of bed, head to Family Restaurant and have somebody cook an omelette for me as someone else waited on me.

I decided to do the undisciplined thing and go, but first I fixed oatmeal for Margie. I wanted to bring her along but she found the thought too frightening and so did I.

As I ate my omelette, I was surprised to see Jim Christensen walk in with his daughter, Jennifer. Back in the days when I published Uiñiq on a regular basis, Jim was a North Slope Borough Public Safety Officer - a cop. He also flew a Citabria, just like me.

Now he lives in Wasilla. He wanted to stay on the Slope, because he finally had all that he needed to go out and enjoy the good life that can be had there - boat, snowmachine, rifles, shotguns, fishing gear, etc., but his wife insisted they leave and come down to Wasilla's more mild climate.

Funny thing is, his wife is Iñupiat and Jim is taniq, like me.

As Jim and I visited, I was even more surprised to see another Barrow face walk through the door - Adeline Hopson, here with her grandson, Rashad. Adeline still lives in Barrow with husband Charlie, but was visiting.

I should not have been surprised, as I frequently run into North Slope people in Wasilla. And when I go to Anchorage, I almost always do.

Rashad looks at me through the Family window as I leave.

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Reader Comments (3)

Be sure to stand up and stretch a bit from time to time. You so fortunate to have fulfilling work. If only Uiniq was on the subscription list of every university.

August 13, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMissSunshine

Trying to make contact with Jim Christensen, he and I were officers and roomates in Panama in 1973. What a great guy, please help me find him. Robin & I would like to get in contact.

Thanls

February 23, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterBob Starnes

Trying to make contact with Jim Christensen, he and I were officers and roomates in Panama in 1973. What a great guy, please help me find him. Robin & I would like to get in contact.

Thanls

February 23, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterBob Starnes

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