Crude Conversations

Rico Worl owns a business in Juneau that aims to distribute money spent on Alaska Native art back into Alaska Native communities. His business is called Trickster for the raven in Alaska Native culture that represents the Creator and is always playing tricks. Trickster began as a skateboard company, so there’s that association too. In fact, the idea for it started when Rico painted his clan crest onto his longboard and skated around Juneau. Before the pandemic, Juneau saw about a million tourists a year. Many of which purchase what Rico calls knockoff Alaska Native art. A small percent of that money actually goes back to the communities that developed the art form. Rico recognized this and came up with a plan: He would design and sell art that blends modern and traditional styles and make sure the proceeds go back to the Alaska Native communities from which they came. Chatter Marks is a podcast of the Anchorage Museum, and is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and Google Podcasts. Just search "Chatter Marks."

In this one, Cody talks to snowmachiner Dane Ferguson. Dane started sledding in 2003 and almost immediately began hitting jumps. Before he even really knew how to ride, he would double up the mountain with filmers and then they would go back down to retrieve his snowmachine for him. Once he and his snowmachine were reunited, all he had to do was point it at the jump and hit the throttle. Dane is a tenacious guy, though. He’s a quick, calculated learner. So, it wasn’t long before he was riding the backcountry and hitting kickers like a pro. Watch any of his parts in Turnagain Hardcore or Slednecks and you’ll see the type of rider he is. He goes huge, he tries new tricks and he’s not afraid to fall. He says that at a certain point, he realized that the more time you can spend in the air, the more time you have to register what’s going on and make corrections before you hit the ground. In 2021, his uncle was strong-armed into signing a piece of paper that gave the Taliban permission to marry-off his daughters. So, five days before the weddings, Dane found himself helping his cousins escape from Afghanistan. Then, when Russia invaded Ukraine, Dane got a call from a guy who had helped coordinate the resources that helped get his cousins out of Afghanistan. He said that women and children were disappearing, possibly to human trafficking or possibly to disorganized evacuations. So, Dane made an easy decision: he would go to Ukraine and he would help safely evacuate those women and children who were in impossible situations just like his cousins.

Cal Williams is an activist and community archivist. He sees his involvement in activism as more of a pull than a draw. He didn’t plan it, it just happened. Seven days after he was born, Pearl Harbor was bombed and most of the men in his life went to war. So, the influences he had at those early ages came from the women in his life. He saw how they did what they could to help the war effort. He’s 80 now, and his list of achievements are extensive. They include the president of the NAACP of Alaska, the recipient of the St. Francis of Assisi Award and working with HistoryMakers, an organization that collects and preserves the well-known and unsung stories of African Americans. Considering his current work with HistoryMakers and the Anchorage Museum, Cal says that he chases the dead — he reads obituaries and attends funerals in order to collect the stories that would otherwise be lost forever.  Photo by Jovell Rennie Chatter Marks is a podcast of the Anchorage Museum, and is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and Google Podcasts. Just search "Chatter Marks."

Ben Huff believes that photography is gloriously incomplete, that it has the potential to start a conversation, but it takes the viewer to finish it — to bring their own history and their own knowledge to the table and fill in the blanks. That’s one of the things that’s wonderful about photography, he says, it prompts a narrative. It introduces a concept or an idea for further examination. Much of his work is interested in exploited landscapes, in the things that we’ve brought to places. His recent book, Atomic Island, details the U.S. military occupation of Adak Island during World War II and the aftermath of their departure that left so much abandoned infrastructure and debris. Chatter Marks is a podcast of the Anchorage Museum, and is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and Google Podcasts. Just search "Chatter Marks."

In this one, Cody talks to musician and storyteller James Dommek, Jr. Growing up in Kotzebue, James played basketball. Most kids did — it was and still is a big part of the rural Alaska experience. In the summertime, they played all night because the sun was out. And in the wintertime — despite the cold and ball going flat — they would still play. In 1996, James moved to Anchorage, where he continued playing basketball for a while, but eventually moved on to playing music. He became as obsessive about music as he was basketball and, after high school, he joined a rock band called The Whipsaws. And that’s where he spent his 20s, playing drums all up and down the Alaska road system at almost every bar that had a stage. He says that he realized he was a storyteller from those days on the road. If something memorable happened, he would be asked to retell the story because people had a tendency to listen when he spoke. In 2019, James and his producers released Midnight Son, a true crime podcast that explores the story of Teddy Kyle Smith, who went from being an actor to a fugitive in a quick succession of tragic events. What followed was a case that involved Alaska Native folklore and the United States justice system. In the podcast, James talks about how this story gave itself to him — how it showed its neck. So, for two years he and his producers worked on Midnight Son — collecting interviews, listening to courtroom audio, writing and just generally wrapping their minds around the case. James says that he was genuinely obsessed with Teddy’s story and that if he didn’t tell it, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Jennifer Loofbourrow is the owner of Alpine Fit, an Alaska-based outdoor clothing company that specializes in offering a variety of fit options for different body types. Jennifer’s active, outdoor lifestyle influenced her decision to start the brand. From 2004 to 2009, she kayaked the outer islands of Alaska's southeast coastline. In that time, she gained an intimate understanding of what basic gear is needed on those trips and how it’s important to consider things like weather and the duration of the trip. She’s actually been told that she’s the bullseye of her target audience.  She says that she lives her life like it’s an endurance sport, so finding a balance between work and rest is important. That balance hasn’t always been easy to find, but she’s getting better at it.  Chatter Marks is a podcast of the Anchorage Museum, and is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and Google Podcasts. Just search "Chatter Marks."

In this episode, Cody talks to long-time Alaska sports journalist Doyle Woody. Doyle got his start at the Anchorage Daily News (ADN) in 1983 covering high school sports. From there, he moved on to covering college basketball for a short period of time before he began covering hockey. And that’s where he stayed for the rest of his journalism career.   For 34 years, Doyle reported on and built relationships within Alaska’s hockey community. He says that back in his early days at ADN, they were generous with travel expenses. So, he would travel with the University of Alaska Anchorage Seawolf hockey team out of state about eight times a year. Those trips were part of what Doyle calls “old-timey hockey,” a time when it was played rough rather than technical. He says that he appreciates how the game has changed in the last few decades, though. How it’s less about fighting and violence and more about speed and skill.   Doyle says that there’s a difference in playing the game of hockey and understanding it. To play hockey is to go through the motions, understanding it is more intuitive. It means having a low panic point and knowing how to buy time. These qualities are what distinguish good players from great players. As far as Alaska hockey players go, Scott Gomez and Dean Larson come to mind. Both were intuitive players who knew how to buy time and space in order to make plays.   PHOTO / Marc Lester

Julie Varee is the Community Outreach Archivist at the Anchorage Museum. So much of her life has been dedicated to helping others. She grew up in a household — back in Gary, Indiana — that put a lot of energy into philanthropy. In fact, her earliest memory is of tagging along with her mom and her grandmother to help the elderly people in her neighborhood. That sense of purpose and charity would define her professional life well into adulthood.  Julie got out of philanthropy and development at 60 years old and began pursuing another career with the Anchorage Museum. The first exhibition she worked on was "Black Lives in Alaska: Journey, Justice, Joy." It’s told through archival photos and collected materials, and showcases the richness and resilience of Black lives in Alaska. Julie says that exhibitions like this one can help people be more open to the stories of other people’s lives and experiences, that their way of experiencing the world is not the only way or the best way or even the right way.   Chatter Marks is a podcast of the Anchorage Museum, and is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and Google Podcasts. Just search "Chatter Marks."

In this episode, Cody talks with rapper Julian Lillie, better known as Bishop Slice. Bishop says that music has been part of his life since before he was even born. When his mom was pregnant, she would always have headphones on her stomach. After he was born, he’d watch MTV, back when they played music videos. But Bishop’s childhood was often tumultuous. His mom struggled with addiction and his dad was in prison. So, he found sanctuary in music — at first listening to it, and then when he was about 12, creating it. Those first raps were full of angst, but they allowed him to express his frustrations and ultimately became therapeutic.   Bishop believes that there’s a responsibility in being an Athabaskan rapper. It means being a cultural ambassador and a role model — instilling hope in his people and letting them know that they can rise above negative stereotypes and past traumas. He knows this is true because he went through it himself. He spent time in prison and he struggled with addiction, but he eventually overcame both. Now, his family is the most important thing to him. Music will always be important, but being the father that he never had is imperative.   PHOTO / Rick Beal

In this one, Cody talks with Giles and Sebastian Landry, the founders of Turnagain Hardcore, a video production crew that produced Alaska-based snowmachine videos throughout the early 2000s. From 2001 to 2009, Turnagain Hardcore, or THC, released eight videos that helped nurture some of the best snowmachiners in the world. These riders were setting records and going bigger than anyone else in the industry at the time. More often than not, the stakes were high. And every year, they got higher—bigger jumps, bigger tricks and more serious consequences. Their thinking at the time was, “If it can’t kill you, no one’s gonna watch it.” That was key to the mentality that drove THC. They wanted the videos to be an example of what Alaskan snowmachiners brought to the table. They wanted Alaskans to be proud to share the videos with anyone, anywhere in the world. Turnagain Pass, from which Turnagain Hardcore gets its name, was homebase. It’s located about a half-hour from Girdwood, where Giles and Sebastian live, so it was an easy commute. In the beginning, they would go out there with tape measures to measure distances from potential take-offs and landings. They wanted to find spots where riders could go huge. But as the jumps and the consequences got higher, Giles and Sebastian made a point to find spots close to roads and cellphone reception. Thinking back to those times, they say that their biggest accomplishment was that they always brought everyone home.