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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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Saturday
Mar132010

Twelve studies of Jobe on the day that he turned four weeks old (Kalib works his way in, too)

DateSaturday, March 13, 2010 at 4:00AM

Jobe at four weeks, Study # 1: It had been too long since we had last seen Jobe and so on this, the day that he turned four weeks old, Margie and I shirked our various responsibilities and drove into Anchorage to visit him. Kalib was at daycare. Lavina had been spending all of her time inside the house, caring for baby, so we let her take our car and we stayed alone with Jobe.

Here he is, sleeping in his grandma's arms.

Study # 2: Sleeping in his grandma's arms, another view.

He begins to wake up.

He wakes up and cries out for milk. Margie hands him to me and then goes to the kitchen to warm up a bottle of momma's breast milk that Lavina left in the refrigerator. 

Now he is in my arms.

His little hand.

He brings his little hand to his mouth.

Margie returns with the milk, takes Jobe from me and feeds him. The bottle leaks. His pajamas get wet.

Margie lays him upon the changing table. Blue dolphins swim through the air above him.

After removing his wet clothing, grandma puts dry ones on him.

Having changed him, grandma smooths out his pajama collar.

Grandma holds and pats him as Kalib looks out at me from a picture that I took when he was within a week of the same age.

Jobe at four weeks, Study # 12: Back in his mother's arms. Before returning to the house, she stopped at daycare, picked Kalib up early and brought him home.

Kalib also starred in many shots after this. It is my intent to continue on with this day's take tomorrow, with the emphasis on Kalib.

But who knows what will happen between now and then?

Still, it is my intent. I'm pretty sure I will do it.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment12 Comments |
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Reader Comments (12)

Thank you, Bill. What precious grandsons you have.

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterGrandma Nancy

i see a resemblance with Kalib...what precious little Boys

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

I think those two are going to look very much alike! Nice pictures.

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered Commentermocha

She already knows it well, but tell Lavinia for me that she and Jacob are truly blessed by the Creator. These two boys! So beautiful.

Being a Mom of a baby was the very best part of my life. My baby is 37 years old but she's still my baby...I don't tell her that...but she is. I have to let her be who she is now but I still would like to sneak back for a 24-hour period and be with her as she was then. There should be a law. That we can do that. Once a year at least.

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

I love the picture of his little face while he's in his Grandma's arms. And yep. Kalib and Jobe look so much alike they could be brothers. Oh. Wait....

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

Bill - Thankyou again for sharing your sweet grandsons with us.

Tomorrow I'm sure you will do what you can.

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterkathleenpalingates

Love this post!

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

I cant believe how much Jobe and Kalib look alike. And those adorable cheeks of Jobe, wow! Geez, I have serious baby fever now!

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterLisaJ

just fantastic, bill! i showed scott and he said millions of years of evolution produced mother's milk, the best there is! my lil breast-fed babies never got sick when they were kids.

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterruth z deming

beautiful little baby ...

March 13, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterSusan

Bill! I cant believe that I can fall in Love again! Save Manu! I am gonna elope wid Jobe ASAP! Cute Cute kid! I wish he could stay like that untill I visited him in Alaska! :(
Last but one pic is fabulous! Umwaahh to sweet little Prince! :)

March 22, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterSuji

Dad, don't know if you heard but Jobe laughed for the 1st time today. Mom is headed to our place and we are going to celebrate with Indian Tacos. Sorry you can't be there, I will have you taco.
~JfH

March 31, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterJfH

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