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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
Mar272010

Boston to Nantucket: I share an airplane with sweet baby Junior

DateSaturday, March 27, 2010 at 4:00AM

This is sweet baby Junior and, just like me, he is preparing to fly from Boston to Nantucket on a Cape Air Cessna. The breeze catches his mom's hair and hurls it skyward.

Shortly after I get in and buckle myself down, I see sweet baby Junior boarding with his mom.

I can't believe my good fortune! Sweet baby Junior sits down beside me! I see that I will have good, intelligent, company on this trip. I believe we will discuss Socrates, Shakespeare and Persimon Munk.

The pilot gives us the preflight briefing. Sweet baby Junior pays rapt attention. I can tell that he is worried that the pilot does not know what he is doing and might crash. 

"It is okay," I tell him. "I think this pilot knows what he's doing - and if he doesn't, I'm a pilot too, so I will just simply take over. And I've only crashed once, so you know you will be safe if I must fly the plane."

As you can see from his expression, this filled Sweet baby Junior with great relief.

Soon, we left Boston behind us.

Shortly after we flew out over the Atlantic, I turned to sweet baby Junior to start the discussion. "So," I queried, "what is your theory about whatever became of the vanished libraries of Persimon Munk?"

But sweet baby Junior did not answer. He had fallen into dreamland.

Perhaps he would find the answers there.

Soon we were over what is nick-named Fog Island, home of the old yankee whaling town of Nantucket. 

We come down on final, headed towards Runway 24. I wish that I were flying the damned plane instead of this guy. Not that I have anything against him and he did a good job, but I just always like it better when I am doing the flying. I haven't done the flying for too long, now.

Sweet baby Junior and his mom got out and headed for the Cape Air terminal building, but they had left a shoe behind.

I picked it up and hollered at them. They came back and got it.

I have not seen Sweet Baby Junior since.

Wouldn't it be fun if he showed up at my show?

I kind of doubt it, though.

But I hope he does.

Should you see this, Sweet Baby Junior, know that you have a special invitation.

Two PM, Saturday, March 27, at the Nantucket Whaling Museum.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment7 Comments |
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Reader Comments (7)

Congratulations, Bill! I wish I could be there at the Whaling Museum today with you as I am sure many others do. Have an awesome day!

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMerryone

great pictures, have a good time at the show

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

these great photos are giving me a bad case of wanderlust! thanks for the post.

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdahli22

Have a great show! Can't wait for the photos.

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

Have a wonderful, awesome day!

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterGrandma Nancy

I am from Massachusetts and now live in California. We are flying to Cape Cod in June, where my parents live. It will always be in my blood. I love it there and smell the smells and feel the feels where ever I am. It is simply heaven on earth to me. I hope you enjoy your stay.

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterLaura Novak

Hope you had a great time and good turnout!
Could not join you, but did take a virtual tour of the Nantucket Whaling Museum. What a beautiful place. It was neat seeing your name and book listed. Also happy to read your photo exhibit will go through June 13. What great exposure....you're now definitely on your way to world famousness-ness!!!!

March 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterFunny Face

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