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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
Sep302009

Cocoon mode,* day 20: Russian lady walks two dogs, boys on bikes, black cat at work; trying to get update on the old dog found on death journey

DateWednesday, September 30, 2009 at 9:02AM

On my coffee break, I saw this lady of the old Russian faith walking two dogs. In time, I must get to know her people much better than I do right now, for they are a big if quiet presence in Wasilla. Those whom I have met and chatted with on my walks have always been friendly, despite the language barriers.

A few are very shy, but then so am I.

I could do so much more if I were not so shy. And if I had more time. And more money to work with - oh, the things I could do with this blog!

Back when Willow was alive, she would draw the Russian children out and they would follow us on our walks and we would talk and have a good time. Sometimes, though, the adults would reprimand them and make them stay home.

This was years before I began to blog, but I did take some pictures and they are around here, somewhere.

Two boys on bikes turn off Ward Street.

This is actually where I spend most of my time. For some reason, it is turning into a bigger struggle for me than it ought to be. Jimmy helps me through it.

As to the old dog from yesterday's post, I have been trying to update her story. I stopped by the Shay house three times today, the last time at 9:06 PM, but I have found nobody but dogs home - but not the old girl. I did not see her. I sent an email to Dodd, but, so far, no response.

Still, I will succeed in contacting them sooner or later and I will update you.

As you can see, I have returned solidly into cocoon mode. I must stay here for awhile, perhaps longer than I first thought.

 

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment4 Comments |
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Reader Comments (4)

Jimmy looks like a pretty stern taskmaster. Either that or he's scanning pictures of his behind and e-mailing them to everyone he knows. One of the two.

September 30, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

Thank you for keeping us updated on the old dog.

October 1, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterWendy

Jimmy, Stern? He's just putting on aires. If you should receive an email of his behind, please, let me know. How I love that little cat.

You bet, Wendy.

October 1, 2009 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

Sure; I'll let you know right away. That is the difference between cats and dogs. When my dog has sent out an e-mail containing scanned pictures of his bottom to everyone in my address book, he just can't contain himself. He's laughing so hard you know right away he's done something. Cats? They're inscrutable. You find out only when you begin to receive outraged e-mails.

I promise you I will not be outraged. I understand cats.

Break's over. Back to work.

October 2, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

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