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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Thursday
Aug272009

Horses, coffee and the odd fact that photojournalists are getting put out of work by the rapid proliferation of photography

I have so much to do and I am so far behind that I thought about working right through my afternoon coffee break, but when 4:00 o'clock came, I knew that I would be basically sitting at my computer for another ten hours or so. I simply could not stand the thought and so went out and bought a cup from Carmen.

As I drank it, I took the long way home. After I crossed the bridge over the Little Su and drove past the place where people stop to pray, I was surprised to see these horses, galloping hard. I rolled down my window, shoved my pocket camera out and, hoping to get it in position to peek over the bushes and a bit above the fence, raised it as high as I could and pointed in a direction that I hoped would catch the horses, and then I shot.

There is a little motion blur, but you know what? I don't really care. The horses were in motion going one way, my car was in motion going in the opposite direction (and no, I was not traveling at all fast and there was no other traffic anywhere in sight in any direction and I did not take my eye off the road any longer then you take yours off it when look over your shoulder to change lanes) and so a little motion blur is appropriate, I think.

This, by the way, is Carmen, who sold me the coffee. She is the owner of the new Metro Cafe that I showed you in yesterday's post. It is a family operation.

If I would have had more time, I would have went inside, taken more pictures, and had Carmen tell me the story of what led she and her family to buy out the old dog wash and build the Metro Cafe, but my 96 page project waited for me at home.

And horses. Horses were waiting for me, too. I did not know and neither did they, but they were waiting for me to come at just that moment. No other moment would have worked, so I had to get the coffee and go.

The coffee was superb. I mean superb. Better than yesterday. Better than any coffee I have had for awhile. I only ordered 8 oz. "I have to cut back," I told Carmen.

"Oh no! Not now!" she exclaimed.

Speaking of horses, my very favorite photographic blog is Lens: Photography, Video and Visual Journalism, published by the New York Times. Yesterday, they ran a story and photo series by Kenneth Jarecke titled: Essay: Cowboys and Photojournalists.

The images come from an excellent photo essay on the Montana State Fair in Billings that Jarecke shot.

The word essay was built on the premise was that there was a period in US history that lasted about 20 years during which what we think of as the American cowboy really existed. Yet, more than a century has now passed since that time and the real cowboy is no more, but people still dress like cowboys, still rodeo, still eat and raise beef and keep the notion alive.

And just as the real cowboy disappeared, Mr. Jarecke proposes, the heydey of what we called photojournalism, best exemplified by Life, a time when hard working Photojournalists could not only travel and document the world but get paid a living income to do so is fading away.

Yet, people are taking more photos then ever, putting more pictures before the public then ever, in places like this blog. It's just that it is getting more and more difficult for anyone to make a living doing so. So much content is free, so many photographers now put their work out there for free that it makes life very tough for the working photojournalist.

Anyway, I left a comment on the blog. It makes a statement that resembles something that I have been wanting to say here for awhile, so I'm just going to paste it in:

I did part of my growing up in Montana and for awhile I wanted to be a cowboy. But after studying Montana’s history for awhile, I came to understand that the cowboy had come too late and had been an instrument of destruction of what had been good about Montana and that the drover sitting on the horse working for a rich man had not only taken the freedom from the land, but had already lost his freedom. So I decided that I wanted to a mountain man and live in the mountains with the Indians, but this was impossible, for that life had also ended.

Still in pursuit of the dream, I became a photojournalist in Alaska where I have been fortunate to hang out with Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut peoples and to document slices of their lives.

But awhile back, I realized that everything was crumbling around me, due to this digital world that I love so much. Thus I decided to start my own blog and to blindly move forward into what I did not know.

So far, the effort has been fun but not the least bit successful. I lack both the time and funds to do the blog right, because I still have to make a living and the blog actually gets in the way of this. But still, I forge on, believing that sometime before I am utterly destroyed I will find the answer.

I have additional thoughts to add to this, but right now I lack the time. I've got to get back to work so I can feed my cats. Not just these two, Chicago and Royce - who, as you can see, greeted me with great enthusiasm when I stepped back through the door - but Jimmy, Pistol-Yero and Martigne.

Technically, Martigne is Jacob, Lavina and Kalib's cat, but she chows down with them all. Sometimes, Muzzy does, too.

I will return to the subject another day, maybe tomorrow. Maybe later.

 

PS: I have had a bit of an empty feeling in me all day today, and it is because of the death of Senator Kennedy. I have been fortunate enough to have met and photographed him a couple of times in my career and I wanted to run one of those photos here in his honor. But I took them well before the digital age began. 

They are on negatives somewhere, and I have absolutely no idea where. I did a "Kennedy" search in my computer, because it seems like I might have scanned one of those images a decade or so ago, but if I did, it is not any harddrive currently attached to my computer.

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Reader Comments (7)

I owned a handful of horses back in the '70s and '80s so it's a pleasure to see such well-cared for groomed horses enjoying themselves in an extended run, even if it's behind a barbed-wire fence (ugh).

You can relate to why I had to stop -- I had to cease my favorite exercise riding those horses
when my back (a congenital misalignment) eventually forced me to stop riding, and find new homes for them...sigh...

August 27, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKarenJ

i hope you continue this blog because it is my favorite one and i read it every day.

August 27, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdahli22

It's my favorite blog too!

August 27, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterGrandma Nancy

I like reading your blog..very interesting. I also read another blog written by a lady in Anchorage www.scribbit.blogspot.com she has sponsors, I think your blog would be perfect for sponsors as well.

August 27, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterSally

I too enjoy your blog. I am a neighbor of sorts, living up the highway in Houston, and I found your blog last yr. Having just moved to AK in '08 I have found your blog fun and informative, even though there are subjects we disagree on :) Keep sharing, I and many others do appreciate the effort you put forth.

August 27, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterLisaJ

I also like your blog. It's interesting, yet restful.

August 28, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterLygia

I most certainly do appreciate these comments. It is good to know that I have connected with all of you - and I am glad to see that we can connect even when we disagree.

August 28, 2009 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

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