Mended computer; Shoshana study; the vandalized fence; young music producer Alan Drumsbarger

I back up to the day before yesterday:

The stress of the combination of being both without a working computer and the necessary capital to pay bills took its toll, so much so that once I found myself with a good working computer and funds enough in the bank to carry us for some time, I suddenly felt drained. All energy left me.

At 4:00 PM, Margie drove into ?downtown? Wasilla to shop for groceries and pay bills. I had her drop me off at Metro Cafe, so I could walk home. I would have ridden my bike, but I did not feel that I had the energy to pedal it.

That put me on the inside of Metro. There, I saw Greg pull up to the window. I often see Greg through that window, but usually I am in the car and looking at him on the inside on the other side of the counter. Somehow, Greg and I often wind up at Metro at the same time and he has appeared in a number of studies. Today, it was reversed - I on the inside and he out, looking in. Hence, the above study:

Study of the young writer, Shoshana, #6921: just after she handed a Rockstar power drink to Greg, he on the outside looking in, me on the inside looking out, and accepted his payment.

I had to pay Shoshana for my coffee and pastry of the previous day as well, because on that day I had not been able to scrape together even enough loose change but they knew I was good for it and so carried me for a day. Now I am flush and the summer ahead looks good.

Such can be the life of a freelance photographer/writer. You gotta love it to do it, and if you don't love it, you can't do it. To live this way, it must be the only way your soul will allow you to live.

I walked on the bike trail towards home. I had not gone far before I came upon this fence, newly bashed in several places. Alas, folks, this kind of thing is part of Wasilla, too. It really is. Most folks here are decent, I believe, but there is an element who simply have no respect for anybody or anything but would sure whine mightily were the situation reversed even slightly.

Somebody spends money, works hard, takes pride, and then someone who understands nothing of life comes along and does this.

Probably a kid or a couple of kids, and since we were all kids once, we must forgive kids of many things, but in a case like this, forgiveness should come only after a significant price is paid - including full restoration of the fence.

I walked a little further down the bike trail, then turned around to get a comprehensive view of the damage. I saw a stranger coming along.

It turned out to be Alan Drumsbarger, who is not a stranger any more. "Nice camera," he said, when he caught up to me about two blocks down. We then walked and chatted together for a few more blocks. Alan was born and raised in Wasilla and now runs a little music recording business, 49 State Records, along with relatives and friends. He has a studio in his basement.

He is also a guitarist and base player, and stands in with many bands.

As we walked and talked, he told me all about his studio, and the hard and soft ware that he uses to record and produce music. He told me many things, more than I can take the time to write here. When I asked him if the business was profitable, he laughed. It's an art, you know, and artists are driven by other forces first and profit second, or maybe third or fourth or fifth or maybe they don't even give a damn about profit, but it is just one of those evil necessities that must be figured out, just to allow them to survive and keep making their art.

He did not say it that way, but I know for a first-hand fact that is how it is with some artists.

You will notice that I once again have four photos, whereas I had set a time-saving limit of three.

Well, with this computer now running hot and fast, trust me, I prepared these four photos MUCH faster than I would have prepared three, before Bruce pointed me toward this fix.

Now, if only I could do something about the many time-wasting inefficiencies built into Squarespace, my bloghost, I could add even more images in the same time.

View images as slides

On my way to see Larry Aiken's miracle smile, I saw many other things

 

I had thought that I might wait a day or two or three to go back to town and see Larry. His pre-surgery prognosis was that afterward he would be in ICU for two weeks, would not be able to talk and for most of that time would not even be able to recognize the people who came to see him.

Then, close to 5:00 PM when I was pedaling my bicycle from Metro Cafe, where I shot a nice little series of studies that I will share with you later, my cell rang. I stopped my bike, pulled out my iPhone and the saw the name "Larry Aiken" on the screen.

I knew it could not be Larry and that it was probably his cousin, Percy. Sure enough, it was.

I was kind of scared.

Then Percy told me the surgery had gone extremely well, better than anyone had even dared to anticipate. Instead of moving Larry into ICU, the doctors sent put him on the Fourth Floor. Not only was he conscious and aware of his surroundings, but he could talk. Percy put Larry on. 

I was surprised at how strong his voice sounded.

I told them I would come in, somewhere between 8:00 and 9:00. Percy said that would be good, that Larry would be pretty groggy but would know I was there.

So I finished a couple of small tasks, took a shower, ate dinner and hit the road about 7:30.

There were mountains in front of me, but I could go around them, easy enough.

I saw a lady who I do not think was very happy.

I saw soldiers, marching across an overpass. I wondered if any or all of them had been to Iraq or Afghanistan, or if not, might yet go.

The odds seemed pretty high. Fort Richardson has sent many soldiers into battle.

Just before I left home, Margie had the news on and I was a little startled to see coverage on a book signing that was at that moment taking place at the Anchorage Museum of History and Art. It was for the newly published Epicenter book, Eskimo Star - From the Tundra to Tinseltown: The Ray Mala Story, authored by Lael Morgan. 

Ray Mala was the first Native American international film star and first gained his fame in the film, Eskimo. Along with Igloo and Last of the Pagans, it is being featured in the Mala Film Festival at the Bear Tooth this evening.

When I entered the museum, I saw the star's son, Dr. Ted Mala, grandchildren Ted Jr. and Galena being photographed by Rob Stapleton. 

Dr. Mala practices both western and traditional Iñupiaq medicine and is director of the South Central Foundation, supplier of health care to Alaska Natives and American Indians in this part of Alaska.

Mala's wife, Emma, joined her family for a Rob Stapleton shot.

I took advantage of the situation and shot a family portrait myself.

Rob with Ted Jr. Rob is one of Alaska's more outstanding photographers and he is a friend. It would take a signficant amount of space for me to adequately relate all the ways he helped me and my family make it through our early struggling days in Alaska.

He is also a pilot and an aviation and ultralight aircraft enthusiast.

Lael Morgan signing copies of her book. Lael began her career as a journalist who came to Alaska by sailboat a few decades back and then roamed the entire state. She is the author of Art and Eskimo Power: - the life and Times of Howard Rock and Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush, about the prostitutes who took care of the lonely and desperate men who roamed the north at that time.

Along with Kent Sturgis, she founded Seattle based Epicenter Press and, beginning with the best-seller Two Old Women by Gwich'in author Velma Wallis, they have had several good success stories.

I believe Epicenter was the first of the two dozen or so publishing houses that I tried to interest in the work that became my book, Gift of the Whale: the Iñupiat Bowhead Hunt, A Sacred Tradition. She took a good look at it, told me was very impressive but that if Epicenter published it, "we would be bombed by Greenpeace."

Still, it is not impossible that we could publish a book together in the future. I don't know what the odds of it happening are - ten percent, maybe?

I would have liked to have hung around and talked to Lael, Dr. Mala, Rob and others, but I was in hurry to get to ANMC and see Larry, so I headed for the door.

As I neared it, I came upon Vic Fischer, who was a State Senator when I first met him almost 30 years ago. Before that, he served in the Territorial Legislature and was a delegate to Alaska's constitutional convention. He has remained active in Alaska's political and cultural life and I am pleased to say that whenever I read an editorial that he has written, I tend to agree with him.

He has deflated some absurd nonsense and claptrap in this state, but the purveyors of it have gone on purveying nonsense and claptrap, anyway.

Just as I was about to go through the door and back to my car, I saw that Rob had just got done taking a picture of Elmer, the Yup'ik actor, Galena, and Ossie, Yup'ik musician, poet and actor. They looked altogether too beautiful for me to pass by without taking at least a snap myself, so I did.

Then I stepped through the door and saw a face I had not seen in at least ten years, maybe more: Tom Richards, Native journalist and activist who worked with Howard Rock at the Tundra Times before I showed up.

Can you feel the Alaska history that I passed by in just a few minutes time? One day, my friends, one day... I will figure out how to make this blog and my as yet-to-be created online magazine work and then the stories that I will track down...

I will never get them all. There are too many, and all the authors and photographers and bloggers and facebookers and whoever that are working in Alaska combined to tell stories of this place can never tell them all.

But I will tell a few of them.

A very few. But even that will be something.

Remember... Larry was expected to in ICU, suffering, so heavily sedated that he would not even recognize me if he saw me at all.

This is how I found him - smiling big, and talking in the strongest, deepest, voice that I have heard come out of him for a long time. The terrible pains that have kept him awake at night had eased off.

What happened was a miracle, he told me. And this why he believes that miracle happened: his physican, a woman from Phoenix whose name he could not recall but I will add in later, was not only skilled, but before she operated on him, she prayed, and asked for help. In Barrow, about 20 members of Barrow's Volunteer Search Rescue got together before his surgery, prayed, and sang, "Amazing Grace."

The night before, right after I left, a man came and prayed for him and when he raised his hand Larry says he felt a strong power. There were all the people who had sung for him the night before - and so many who had prayed.

Larry invited me to take this picture so that he could express his thanks to all those who have prayed for him and helped him in anyway. You are too numerous to name, but you know who you are.

Larry said many visitors had already come by. While I was there, he was visited by Harry Ahngasuk and his wife, Sarah Neakok-Ahngasuk of Barrow. That's his cousin, Percy, on the right. Percy has been with him the whole time.

For me, these past several months have been rough - very rough.

But when I visited Larry last night, I just felt joy. Pure joy. I felt so glad. So, very, very happy.

It was excellent to see his story take such a positive turn.

At about 10:30 PM, I left Larry and his guests, stopped to chat in the parking lot with a lady from Anaktuvuk Pass and then drove home. As I came down Lucille Street in Wasilla, I saw that the police K-9 unit was active. Someone was not having a very good time. I know nothing beyond that.

View images as slides

Rex takes me to the concert, where a puffin flies over the orchestra, and moose, too

Just as I said I would, I ate breakfast at Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant and so did this couple. I did a number of other things throughout the day and took pictures of various subjects, ranging from mountains to airplanes to a dog running directly in front of the car going in the same direction as me, but I've got to get to the concert, so I will skip all that.

Rex bought a couple of tickets to the Saturday night performance of the Anchorage Symphony and invited me to join him. So I drove into town, parked the car and walked over to the Alaska Center for the Performing Arts, where I saw a family who identified themselves as the Barnes passing by on the sidewalk.

Other people were looking at the ice sculptures that adorn the plaza adjacent to the Performing Arts center. I heard a story on NPR this afternoon that explained why the Lower 48 and the mid-latitudes of Europe and Asia have experienced such cold weather this winter while the Arctic - even the North Pole - has been unseasonably warm.

It is not just because of El Niño, as I had suspected, but because of the Arctic Oscillation. Normally, the air pressure at the pole is lower than elsewhere and so the cold not only forms, but settles in. This year, there has been a shift in the air pressure, which has been higher on the pole than normal and lower to the south and so the cold air that would normally linger in the north has moved to the south.

The guy said that the odds of it happening this way are about the same as being given one draw from a deck of cards to pull out the Ace of Diamonds, and then you pull out the Ace of Diamonds.

I went into the lobby and soon Rex showed up with the tickets. 

After we entered the auditorium and found our seats, I snuck up to the front real quick so I could get a shot of the bass players as they limbered up their fingers and tuned their instruments.

I returned to my seat as the crowd poured in.

Here I am with Rex, waiting for the concert to start. Rex told me that part of what he has done to cope with Stephanie's abandonment is to start attending concerts and such, so that he could hear music that he had heard growing up in our house and remember it.

A guy in front of us looks at his watch. He needn't worry. The concert will start on time.

The concert opened with Bach's Brandenburg Concerto #2. The fellow playing the trumpet is Linn Weeda. BBC#2 requires the trumpeter to blow his instrument up an extra octave from its normal range and, if what I was taught in college is true, in order to play it, the musician must have lung power strong enough to inflate a car tire.

This is kind of hard for me to imagine, and I am not certain that it is true, but it is what I was taught.

I would like to tell you that the performance was flawless, that not a note was missed nor rendered even slightly shrill, but that would not be an honest statement.

What is true is that I greatly enjoyed sitting there with my son, having all these musicians playing their instruments to send sound waves of Bach flowing over us. It was very good.

It reminded me too of when Margie and I were first married, and I would often take her to recitals and concerts - classical and rock and roll. Then we would come home and go to bed and life would be sweet. Those were good times.

Linn Weeda played the trumpet, Roxann Berry the flute, Sherman Piper the Oboe and Kathryn Hoffman the violin. 

They accept their applause.

This is Paul Sharpe, playing a solo on the double bass during the performance of A Carmen Fantasy for Double Bass and Orchestra Prelude by Frank Proto.

It is a fact that I could have gotten pictures of much greater technical quality with any one of my big DSLR cameras then I got with my pocket camera - and with a telephoto lens I could came in much tighter on the subject.

But... I could not have used such a camera at all in here. I could not have taken any performance pictures at all. The pocket camera is perfectly quiet and exceptionally discreet and so I could get away with taking pictures, without getting kicked out or rising the ire of nearby audience members.

And that is a big advantage of a pocket camera.

For his encore, Sharpe played the Alaska Flag Song.

After a bit of Debussy, the Symphony wrapped up the evening with Exposition on the Anchorage Museum, a commissioned piece by California composer Gregory Prechel - who has also composed music for The Simpsons and various shows and films.

Throughout the work, selected paintings, sculptures and carvings from the Anchorage Museum of History and Art were projected overhead, beginning here with Alvin Amason's rendition of a puffin, title "It's a Sweet Dream that Keeps Me Close to You."

The painting, "Easter Tableu" by Pat Austin.

The mask: Txamshem (Raven Man) by Jack Hudson.

Update insert: As I prepared this post early this morning, I had naturally planned to give credit to the conductor, Randall Craig Fleischer, who has done good things with the Anchorage Symphony. You see the time stamped at the top: 3:06 AM? That's when I opened Squarespace to begin constructing this post, not when I closed it. I closed at about 4:45 AM and I was so tired and so anxious to get this done so I could go to bed that I forgot to credit the conductor!

Very bad of me, but here he is, Conductor Fleischer, waving his baton beneath the picture of Hudson's mask.

Afterwards, I said goodbye to Rex under an awning that he had helped to construct.

And on the way home I encountered this crazy driver. I had set my cruise control at 65. When I first came upon this vehicle, it was doing about 50 in the left lane - a no no - and so I passed on the right. Pretty soon, it shot by me, doing 75 or 80.

Shortly after that, I again passed it on the right. Then it zipped past me. Then it fell back... then it passed me...

That's the kind of driver that was in control of this vehicle.

Notice the fog - how it engulfs the lights, but does not touch the ground.

There's lots more that I would like to write about the day that has most recently ended, but its almost time to get up and I have a big day ahead of me Sunday, so I think I had better stop and go to bed.

I should note, though, that of all the music performed, it is Bach that continues to play in my head. The other pieces have fallen silent. 

Bach rules!

Shaggy man comes to Barrow to get haircut

I arrived in Barrow as the shaggy man. I had intended to get a haircut from Celia in Wasilla before I left, but at no point in my final week there could I find 30 minutes to go see her - 45 counting the drive there and back. So I went to Point Lay shaggy, hung out shaggy in Wainwright but after I got to Barrow and started chewing on my mustache with every bite, I decided I had better do something about it.

So I wound up on a chair at Barrow Search and Rescue alongside Johnny Adams, who agreed to do the job. It was Roy Ahmaogak who suggested Johnny and it was mighty wise advice.

Here is the "before" shot that I took in another one of my abolutely brilliant self-portraits.

You can see that Johnny looks a little worried. He knows that I want to look good when the job is done, and he is not certain such a thing is even possible, no matter how excellent a job he does.

Bravely, he begins to cut.

I must note that Johnny is a guitar player and singer and he does his own, Iñupiaq version of Woody Guthrie's "This land is your land, this land is my land..." but he does not sing about places like California and the New York Islands, but rather places like Point Barrow, Barter Island, Point Hope and the Brooks Range Mountains.

I have been to parties where he sang that song. Everbody goes wild. They really like it.

As the boys play cards in the back room, he trims my beard and mustache. 

The challenge before Johnny is enormous. He attacks it from all angles.

There is no mirror nearby, so, when the job is done, I have to take another brilliant self-portrait as an "after" shot and then look at the monitor on my pocket camera to see how he did.

Damn! What a handsome devil!

Two handsome devils!

Johnny Adams, you are a genius!

Last time I was in New York City, I dropped into the Worldwide Institute of Master Photographers to see if they would accept me into their ranks.

"No," they said, in collective arrogance. "You will never be a master photographer until you have photographed yourself getting your hair cut by a musician. Frankly, Wasilla boy, we do not think you have the skills to take on such a challenge."

So I think I will email the link to this blog to the Master Photographers and see if they will accept me now.

If this doesn't prove to them that I have the skills to photograph myself getting a haircut from a musician - an Inupiaq musician, no less and I don't think any of them have even accomplished this - then I don't know what will.

The wedding - setting the stage, part 1: The musicians

Horn player # 1.

Horn player # 2.

Horn players #1 and #2 together. (Please note: the numbers do not mean any kind of rank and are quite arbitrary on my part).

The drummer.

All the players, making music together.

There will be four parts to this "setting the stage" series: The musicians, the cooks, the photographers, and the bride and groom. All will go up today, no more than hours apart, maybe less.

Then I will get into the wedding itself. Compared to a typical American wedding, it is so vast and has so many parts, far too many for me to include here, that I have no idea how I am going to handle it. I will figure it out. 

I know right now, though, I will never be able to do it the justice that it deserves.