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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
Oct012011

A ninja, cat, and absent-minded dog, met one week ago today on my way to The Loft

DateSaturday, October 1, 2011 at 7:38PM

This is one week ago this morning, taken at a train station in Newark, from where I launched myself toward David Alan Harvey's Loft in Brooklyn. 

Right now, it is 11:15 PM and I have settled down into the home of my westside Uptown hosts, Tom and Susan Nicholson, former Alaskans and parents of the filmmaker Zac Nicholson who loves to come to Alaska and especially to Barrow.

I am exhausted. Too exhausted to do any kind of picture editing or blogging.

The only reason that I am not in bed right now is because after sweating profusely throughout this past week while walking mile upon mile, sitting, riding the baking subway and trying sleep in the sultry heat, my supply of clothing had gone bad and so I am now doing laundry.

I shared an apartment with three other workshop students. When I arrived, I found this cat just outside the door. Seemed to me like a good beginning.

Then, a bit before 5:00 PM, I joined my temporary roommates in a cab ride to The Loft. Something was wrong with the elevator, so we trudged up the stairs to the sixth floor. This dog followed.

I didn't think much about the dog until it suddenly said, "say, can you tell me if this is the stairway to The Loft?"

"Yes," I answered, "but why would a dog want to know that?"

The dog looked at me like I was stupid. "I ran here all the way from Texas just to take part in The Loft workshop and I would hate to find out that on the final stretch I had gone up the wrong stairway," he answered in irritated disgust.

"It's the right stairway," I said, "but where's your camera?"

"My camera!" the dog suddenly screamed. "I forgot my camera! I left it at home in Texas! I better run back and get it!"

With that, the dog turned, leaped and bounded down the stairs and charged out the door on his way to Texas.

I don't know what happened to him, because the workshop is over now and he never made it back.

Too bad. I would have liked to have seen his portfolio.

 

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment3 Comments |
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Reader Comments (3)

i hope the dog has a home...good to see you again

October 2, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

Poor puppy does look like he ran from Texas. Hope all is well for you Bill!

October 2, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterManxMamma

I would very much like to see the Texan Dog's portfolio, too. Hahaha....

October 12, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterShaela

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