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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
Dec152010

The Brooks Range; Mysore elephant

DateWednesday, December 15, 2010 at 1:28PM

 

I am back in Wasilla now. For today's post, I had prepared a series of images of the transition between Barrow and here, of my departing a place where the sun shines not at all this time of year to one where it shines but a few hours, weakly.

I had planned to create a narrative to go with these pictures that would explain why I did not want to leave Barrow, why I had no desire to see the sun but instead felt as though I wanted to remain wrapped in the comforting cloak of winter's darkness.

But I have encountered some technical glitches and my time for blogging today has been eaten up. I have things I must do. So I will save those pictures and that narrative for tomorrow.

In the meantime, this is what it looked like as we flew over the Brooks Range a bit before noon. No sun would rise here, either, although the light filtering in from below the southern horizon was much brighter on the Brooks than in the city of Barrow.

 

And here is one from India:

Mysore Zoo.

She is not forgotten. Not for one minute. Not for one second.

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

those pictures are incredible. the aerial view is...just wow.

December 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterlexcade

We hope you & Margie are OK with the power out there? Heard many are without electricity because of the strong wind storm.

December 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterCyndy E

We probably lost our power 20 times - but never for very long.

December 15, 2010 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

The view was breathtaking, but really, the elephant didn't look as if he were hurting all that much.

Sorry. Sometimes, I cannot resist a bad pun.

I'm also sorry that you are grieving. You've suffered a great deal of loss in the past three months or so.

December 16, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

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