A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

All photos and text © Bill Hess, unless otherwise noted 
All support is appreciated
Bill Hess's other sites
Search
Navigation
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.

Blog archive
Blog arhive - page view

Entries in Wal-Mart (7)

Thursday
Dec182008

Cinnamon roll at Mocha Moose, rescue vehicle gets stuck, Kalib hurls Kleenix to the floor

I don't often go to Mocha Moose, but this afternoon I wanted a cinnamon role and they have some pretty good ones. So, at 4:00 PM, I ignored my usual places and went to Mocha Moose. Here I am, waiting in line.

The lady ahead of me gets her coffee. She did not get a cinnamon roll. I don't know why. I'm pretty certain she would have enjoyed her coffee more if she had a cinnamon roll.

Earlier in the day, about noon, when I went walking, I came upon the same van that I had found stuck Monday night and had photographed on Tuesday - the day the worried owner had told me he would come back and yank it out.

Looks like he came back all right, with help, and that help got stuck, too. You can see that they even tried to yank out the help vehicle, but had not succeeded. At least the third vehicle did not get stuck.

These kinds of exciting events take place continually right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

Muzzy gives the scene some perspective. Actually, the van had moved a fair piece from where I found it Monday. And no one had vandalized it.

Kalib discovered Kleenix, and how fun it is to remove one, throw it on the floor and remove another. When an adult tells him to stop it, he just smiles at the defenseless sould like this, removes another tissue and hurls it onto the floor.

"Stop it, Kalib! Stop it right now!"

And here is the garden center end of Wal-Mart. I brought some blooming tulips back and replanted them in the back yard.

How pretty they looked in the snow! I tried to photograph them for you, but it was beyond my meagre abilities to do justice to such beauty and I did not succeed.

 

Wednesday
Dec102008

Two miserable days yield to nice night - but with a headache; a damned strange headache


I was home alone on Sunday night and did not want to cook, so I went to Piccolino's. I was a little reluctant, because, although their food is excellent, they completely saturate it in garlic and even though I like garlic, I must eat a minimum of it these days.

"Very light on the garlic, please," I told the waitress.

My order came back saturated in garlic. I ate it anyway.

Sunday night, the wind started to blow and grew to fierce. It whistled and roared about the house all night long. In the morning, I knew that it had been a warm wind, because it was not at all cold in our bedroom and if it had been a cold wind, it would have been.

After I got up, I noticed that my tummy felt kind of queasy. I figured it was the garlic, but the queasiness persisted all day, so it must not be. It must be a bug.

As for the wind, it hit 70 and keep causing micro-power failures. Each time one struck, my screen would go white and my computer would restart.

It happened maybe 10 times.

Very annoying.

I felt too miserable to venture out into the wind until night, when I had to. Temperature was in the 20's, but damn, it felt cold anyway.

Why do I ramble like this? Who cares?

As to the photo above, I took it tonight with my brand new Canon 5D MII, set to 6400 ISO.

All these photos were shot at 6400 ISO. I am pretty damned impressed.

The only things is, I thought I had set the camera to shoot RAW, but I hadn't. So these are all jpegs. If I had put in the time and work, I could probably still work up a better color rendition, but I wish I had shot RAW.

Tomorrow.

Wal-Mart, ISO 1600. The wind has died down and it snows pleasantly.

Pickup truck.

Reserved parking.

100 percent detail clipped from the preceding picture. No processing. It is the second sign from the left. Yes, really - 6400 ISO. A whole new world of possibilities has just opened up.

Cyclist.

We pass him.

A man crosses the highway in front of Burger King. 

For you pocket camera fans, don't worry - the G9 and G10 are still going to be my carry around cameras, but what a great tool this 5D will be.

My tummy still doesn't feel very good. And I have an exceptionally strange headache. I would describe it, but when one has a headache, it is hard to describe anything.

 

Page 1 2