A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

All photos and text © Bill Hess, unless otherwise noted 
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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
Feb102010

Two postmen: one rescues me from mean, vicious, snarling, barking American Bull Dog (imagine it comparing paw notes with the pit) Metro study 

On my walk, I see in the near distance - a dog!

An American Bull Dog.

Barking.

Growling.

Snarling.

Preparing to attack.

H'mmm... looks familiar... haven't we been through this before?

Like 79 times?

"I'm going to tear your head off, Picture Man!" the dog growls.

Suddenly, before she can attack, she turns, and runs, fleeing in terror, all decorum and modesty forgotten. Someone has come to my rescue. Who could it be?

"Are you okay?" I hear a voice behind me. I turn to my rescuer. It is this postman. 

"I'm fine," I say. "That's Tequilla. She doesn't mean any harm. She's just likes to put on a show."

The postman is greatly relieved.

And he is pleased to know he will be in my blog.

He will be remembered forever now.

Except for his name.

I didn't get his name.

So he will be remembered forever as, "Anonymous Postman Who Saved Legendary Wasilla Blogger From Bluff Attack by Sweatheart Barking Bull Dog Named Tequilla."

The Postman drives away and I walk on. Tequilla relaunches the attack, sneaking loudly up from behind.

She stops, pretending with satisfaction that she has done her job and has frightened me away.

Well, once again, our little town's most famous, self-proclaimed, pit bull has managed to dominate national news stories of the past few days. She should get together with this character. They could write notes upon their paws and then stage a barking and growling contest.

"Woof! Woof!" it would be written on the paw of the American Bull dog.

"Bark! Bark!" the Pit Bull's paw would read.

Later, at the usual time, I drive to Metro Cafe, where I come upon a second postman, John. He agrees to pose for, Through the Metro Cafe Window, Study #2.

Certainly, there have been many more images than one already completed in this amazing study, but every study must have a #2. This is my #2.

After we finish the shoot and John leaves, Carmen tells me that more and more postmen are taking their breaks at the Metro Cafe.

"They're really good people," she says. She is glad they have found her.

The school bus drivers, however, just drive right on by during their breaks. "They have a three hour break and they don't even stop," she laments.

C'mon, school bus drivers. Stop at Metro Cafe and get a coffee. 

You won't be sorry.

And you might wind up in one of my famous studies.

Then you, too, can be remembered forever.

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Reader Comments (9)

That's funny that Tequila departs the scene quickly once the postman shows up. But I'm glad that Bill the legendendary photographer blogger from Wasilla Alaska was saved.

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

I'm glad Tequila does not live on my block.

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

Thanks for another giggle, Bill! Your blog is my daily visit with a good friend (who doesn't even know he's my friend.) You have my vote for Real American of the Year -- and I'm grateful to think you live in the same area as that Nitwit American of the Year. Keeps it balanced somehow.

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterGrandma Nancy

Great post! Woof Woof!

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterManxMamma

it cracks me up that tequila hasn't figure out who you are, YET! I love see her barking at you!

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterjamie

Aww...Tequila is not unlike my barking bluffer. Lily, my Pit Terrier, is all talk and no walk. She's even scared of cats.

Btw- loved the "bark bark written on her palm" comment. Hahahahaha!

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterTanyalaska

Tooo funny! I think I like Tequila better then the other pit bull you a refering to. Matter of fact, I think Tequila wouldn't have to write her "barking/talking points" on her paws...unlike the other pit bull. Ohhh....I could just go on and on here. Endless embarrassment for us Alaskan's.

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterSoutheast

I love your studies. Such great people captured thru the window of the Metro Cafe :)
Love the dog too, you can see her sense of satisfaction at a job well done :)

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMikey

Good. This'll prove to people in the lower 48 that we really do have black people here.

February 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterAnon in Palmer

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