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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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Thursday
Oct062011

A little boy watches a mouse; a little girl and a not-quite old homesteader; another licks the frosting

DateThursday, October 6, 2011 at 10:00PM


Last night, I was overwhelmed by sleepiness very early and so went to bed about 10:00 PM. In time, I fell asleep, sound asleep, it seemed. I woke up, thinking that hours had passed and that I had finally gotten a good rest.

But no. It was only 11:15 PM. Throughout the rest of the night, I mostly tossed and turned, forced sleeping cats to move from one spot to another and then back again. I slept very little.

Margie was sleeping in the guest room with Jobe, so that he would not fall out of bed.

Once Jobe got up, he sat down to watch Mickey Mouse.

He loves Mickey Mouse.

When I came home, Margie and I brought him home with us to ease the burden on his mother, now that she has three little ones, including two-week old Lynxton, to care for.

Margie had been staying there to help out, but I wanted her to come home with me and so we brought Jobe, too.

Friday, I leave on the 6:05 AM flight to Barrow. That means no good sleep tonight, either.

I stopped at Abby's on my morning walk - not for another breakfast but just for a shot of coffee. That's two-year old Danielle in her arms and 62-year old Harold Olsen chatting with them.

"How long have you lived here?" Harold asked me.

"Thirty-years," I answered.

"Newcomer," he said.

Harold's family homesteaded some property in 1953 right near where Abby would later grow up on the Mahoney Homestead.

Of course, to the Tanaina, even the homesteaders are newcomers.

This is Danielle's five-year sister, Audrianna, sampling the frosting.

Now... I am faced with a couple of intense tasks that I need to do over the next two to three weeks and I don't really have time to blog at all. Plus, somewhere, somehow, sometime, I really need to get some serious sleep. Maybe Saturday night and Sunday morning at Roy Ahmaogak's house in Barrow.

I had thought about putting this blog on hiatus again until I accomplish what needs to be accomplished, but decided against it.

I will attempt to post throughout the next two weeks or so, but don't expect much in these posts. Maybe one picture, sometimes, and one sentence.

I might miss a few posts altogether.

When the tasks are done and I get a decent sleep, I will finally blog my New York City David Alan Harvey Loft Workshop experience.

I am not going to let that one go untold.

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

just get some rest..we'll be here...my granddaughter loves mickey mouse too :)

October 7, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

We'll all wait patiently, knowing it will be worth the patient waiting.

October 7, 2011 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

As usual, your pictures and stories sooth my soul. I definitely need to come and sit more often. Thank you for the simple beauty you share.

October 7, 2011 | Unregistered Commenter1smartcanerican

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