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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Saturday
Dec112010

Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 2: The visitation at Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church

Most often, funerals for people who have reached a position of prominence* in Barrow are held in one of the school gymnasiums in order to accommodate a number of mourners too large for the chapel. Warren Matumeak was such a man, but before his death he made it known that his funeral was to be held inside the Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church, where he had attended services and been a faithful member for all of his life.

He was a trustee and Elder of the church and served as a choir director since the early 1950’s. He was a man devoted to his Iñupiat culture – the language, the hunting, fishing, whaling, traditional song and dance and to his family.

He also made it clear that he had no higher devotion than that he gave his God and this was the place where that relationship took hold. This would be the place where his final service would be held.

The visitation began at noon, but I was unable to make it over until about 12:40. I followed these two into the chapel to find that it was already full.

*I would note that before the funeral, I was contacted by a few friends of Warren's who would not be able to attend and they let me know they were looking forward to attending vicariously through this blog.

So, for all those who would have been here if they could, I am making this an extra large series of pictures, beyond what may be of interest to many readers outside the scope of Warren's family and friendship. I will put three posts up this afternoon, one almost immediately following the other, and will then follow up tomorrow with another post or two to finish off with the singspiration, and a small glimpse at Warren's life.

These are the living sisters and brothers that Warren left behind, plus a couple of cousins and a niece. Through his father, mother and step-mother, Warren had a total of 13 brothers and sisters.

As slides from his life were projected onto a screen behind his coffin, grandchildren of Warren gathered around to share some final moments with their beloved Aapa.

The chapel was filled with gospel music, played in the heart and soul-felt way that the Iñupiat perform it. Among the musicians were Bradford Nageak, Fred Elavgak and...

Clifford Okpeaha...

Frank Long, Jr....

...Tom Opie...

...Leona Okakok...

...and Adeline Hopson.

Soon, the casket will be closed. The service will begin.

 

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Reader Comments (1)

Thanks from one who was not able to be there, except in spirit.

December 11, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterCharles Brower

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