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
Mar262011

Sings of early spring: cop stop, indoor cats, college studies, bike rider, water in the road - the study of the young writer that will break hearts

I decided to look around, and see if I could spot the signs of early spring in Wasilla and nearby environs. The first thing that I saw was this police car parked behind the little red car that had been driven by a driver who was undoubtedly feeling pretty uncomfortable right then.

This was a sure sign of spring - a driver being pulled over by a traffic cop.

True, you see cops pulling drivers over in the winter, fall and summer as well as spring, but the difference is the rotting snow in the background.

When you see a car pulled over by a cop and there is rotting snow in the background, then you can be pretty certain it is springtime.

One of these days soon, I must bite the bullet and replace this cracked windshield before I get pulled over, too.

As soon as I do replace it, the new one will be struck by a flying stone and will get cracked, too.

I hate it when new windshields get cracked.

Of course, when you spot a cat sitting inside its people's apartment looking just like this, then you know for certain it is spring.

So here is Junipurr, a cat of spring.

Wait a minute. I took these pictures one week ago today at Lisa and Bryce's apartment after I had photographed the Lady Whalers winning the state championship and the young Barrow scientists competing in the Alaska Science and Engineering Fair. I just didn't have the chance to post them until now.

Last Saturday was the 19th - one full day before spring

My bad. These are not spring shots at all.

But they sure look like spring. Here is Zed. Zed is very hard to photograph in Lisa's apartment because it is always pretty dark in there and his fur is so black. Plus, he is shy. If he figures out you are photographing him, he will hide.

But I am a determined, dedicated and resourceful photographer, so naturally I succeeded in taking his photo.

I didn't even look, either. I shot it with my eyes closed. I knew where he was, so I didn't need to open my eyes. I was too tired to open my eyes.

Here is Lisa, studying hard on spring break, and Bryce, playing video games.

Now I am back to yesterday, when I spotted this cyclist pedalling up Church Road.

I had just been to Metro Cafe, where I shot:

Through the Window Metro Study, #5,187: Carmen and two old friends who were surprised to meet each other in Metro Cafe.

This is the story:

When the young woman to the side of Carmen entered Metro Cafe yesterday, she was not thinking anything at all about the man on Carmen's other side. Same thing with him. Although they had know each other years ago and had worked together at Pedro Bay, they were not thinking of each other at all. They had not even seen each other in three to four years, so why would they be thinking about each other?

And then they saw each other, and recognized each other.

And it all happened in Metro Cafe.

I had them tell me their names and, because I have learned that I often forget names that I am certain I will remember, I pulled out my iPhone, turned on the recorder and had them speak into it and tell me their names. This way, I would not forget and because I would not forget, I had no real need to remember, because the memory was right there in my iPhone.

So, just now, I pulled my iPhone out to pull up my memory of their names.

And the whole recording was gone. I don't know what happened to it. It was just gone.

Ha! Can you deny that a pair of mated mallards strolling through a Wasilla parking lot is a sure sign of spring?

And how about young love? Hence we have:

Study of the Young Writer, Shoshana, #1: with her boyfriend, Justin - the study to break the hearts of of my young, single, male readers...

 

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Reader Comments (2)

just love the cats, what gorgeous creatures.

March 26, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

I love that the recording of the man and woman's names was gone! That is so life!

March 26, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterLittle Sister

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