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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Thursday
May272010

Lots happening, time for only a token post

Many things are happening around me right now and I have no time to post. Yet, just as life does, this blog must move on. Yes, you see correctly. This is Margie and Jobe, standing next to Margie's mom, Rose Roosevelt. Since I put up my last post, the entire family from Alaska has rolled in and many people have gotten together.

And this is Jobe, with his younger cousin, Hokshila. And if Hokshila sounds like a Lakota and not an Apache name to you, you are correct. Hokshila is Apache, Lakota, Tlingit and more.

Anyway, more later. I've got to go now.

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Reader Comments (6)

I love Roses' jacket....I want one! Where can I get one just like it?

May 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMarg

That looks like a Pendleton Woolen Mills blanket pattern -- I know they make jackets and vests out of the fabric. Look it up online, see if you can find something similar, Marg.

May 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterKarenJ

Thank you for this quick post. Your writing makes my day!

May 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterManxMamma

Jobe is growing so quickly! Hope your family is having a wonderful reunion..... Blessings.

May 27, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterGrandma Nancy

Marg - Yes, Karen is right - plus ny good trading post in the southwest or elsewhere in Indian country. Here is the direct link to Pendleton Woolen Mills:

http://www.pendleton-usa.com/custserv/contactus.jsp?parentName=CustomerService

Thank you, Manx and Grandma.

thanks for the post......

May 30, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterclippingimages

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