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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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« I meet a Dutch Harbor fisherman beside a picnic table on the ice of Wasilla Lake | Main | I follow Charlie to a tough Fur Face battle at Miners and Trappers, where I find myself in Wonderland; Miss Rondy Queen; Kalib and Jobe »
Monday
Mar072011

When no other spatula will do - another spatula will just have to do; two women on opposite sides of the road

DateMonday, March 7, 2011 at 12:55PM

As Kalib and Jobe have had but a small presence in this blog as of late, I back up now to Saturday night, when I went to their house to pick up Margie after the Fur Face beard contest. As I walked up the stairs, I saw a little face peeking over the safety gate at me.

Who the hell was it?

Why, it was Jobe!

And he was damn glad to see his grandpa.

Actually, I back up even a little further now - to just before I went to the beard contest, when I dropped Margie off. When we arrived, Jobe was napping and Kalib and his dad were out walking and playing in the nearby frozen and snowy park.

They soon arrived home and Kalib was carrying golf balls. Apparently, there had been some kind of golf tournament out in that park, probably associated with Anchorage Fur Rendezvous.

Some of the golfers had lost their balls.

Kalib had found them.

Margie helped Kalib out of his coat and then I left to find Charlie and his beard.

Now, back to late at night - to just before I took Margie to the car and drove her home. Kalib's spatula appeared, looking just like it always had. As regular readers know, for Kalib the Spatula Kid there was one spatula and one spatula only.

No other spatula would do.

But this was a different spatula.

His parents found it on ebay and it was identical to the spatula that got lost, an event that caused Kalib to pick up and glom onto a pair of tongs. They snatched it right up.

You will note that even though Kalib now has his same/different spatula back, he still carries his tongs.

Kalib is becoming quite expert at manipulating those tongs.

Self-portait: me, Kalib and Jacob.

 

As for the Iditarod Restart - I just had too much to do and could not take the time to go. I felt bad about it, but there were all kinds cameras there, operated by amateur and pro alike. There will be no shortage of images.

 

And this one from India:

Two ladies walking on opposite sides of the road at dusk.

 

View images as slides


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Reader Comments (1)

Good stuff, we just met with the Boys Daycare, Jobe will be moving up into the toddlers class next month....

March 9, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterJfH

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