A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

All photos and text © Bill Hess, unless otherwise noted 
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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
Mar122011

Two studies of the young writer, Shoshana; dog in the post office; six scenic views taken through the window or a red Ford Escape in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge; breakfast

Metro Cafe study of the young writer, Shoshana, #1,313,467,982.3333: The young writer removes the cap from the half-and-half.

Metro Cafe study of the young writer, Shoshana, #7: The young writer readies a lid before snapping it on a cup of steaming Americano.

In mid December, a photographer friend who lives in Greece and who I met at the online magazine, burn, air-mailed his book, Nicosia in Dark and White, to my street address. Months passed, and that book did not show up. So, maybe less than two weeks ago, he mailed me another copy, this time to my P.O. Box.

The very next day, the book that he had sent three months earlier did arrive at my house.

And now the one that he sent to my P.O. Box arrived, but since it does not fit into my box, I had to stand in line to pick it up.

As I waited, I saw this dog, a helper dog. When he lady and the dog left, I wanted to call out to her, to stop her and have her tell me something of this dog's story and what it does for her.

But I did not want to lose my place in line. I did not want to annoy the people in line behind me.

So I did not call out.

The two walked out the door and I have seen neither since.

Someday, maybe.

Scenic view in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge as seen through the window of a red Ford Escape, # 1: the river itself.

Scenic view in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge as seen through the window of a red Ford Escape, # 2: trees above the bank of the river.

Scenic view in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge as seen through the window of a red Ford Escape, # 3: the bullet-pocked sign put up in honor of Manvil H. Olson, for whom the bridge is named.

Scenic view in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge as seen through the window of a red Ford Escape, # 4: a tree on the river's bank is reflected off the dirty window of a school bus.

Scenic view in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge as seen through the window of a red Ford Escape, # 5: queue of mailboxes just across the bridge.

Scenic view in the vicinity of the Little Susistna River and the Manvil H. Olson Bridge as seen through the window of a red Ford Escape, # 6: the river itself, as seen while crossing back over the bridge.

I had another one of those nights that I could not sleep and so, at too early of an hour, gave up and went and had breakfast alone at Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant. 

Readers will note that in the recent past, it was very dark outside during these breakfasts - and that was true even if I went late.

Now it is light.

Yep. The season of darkness is over for this winter.

By the way - Jobe and Kalib are here. Reader friends can visit them tomorrow.

 

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Reader Comments (3)

Can't wait to see your boys. Our Grandgirlies are due in next week to spend their Spring Break with us. Extra treat, we get their momma as well! We love our son's wife, and the chance to spend time with her is golden.

March 12, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterKathryn

Shoshana is such a pleasant looking young woman and i love the dog...our first family dog was a golden, a beautiful and good dog

March 13, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

waiting for Kalib and Jobe!!! :)

March 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterSuji

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