Photography was a family matter when I was growing up. To this day, no family gathering would be complete without someone pulling out a stack of photographs to look at. "Not bad" was high praise; these accolades didn't always help me take better pictures but they helped me recognize a good shot when I lucked upon it.

My early efforts were largely documentary and in black and white. Travelogues were also taken in slide form, the slide show being the family media. My first camera was a 1/2 frame automatic advance "Memo" which predated modern idiot cameras and was little and handy enough to take anywhere. It also gave me twice the number of shots per roll of film, increasing the odds of getting a decent photo. 

Some years ago I gave myself permission to begin a photographic exploration of architectural details. I'm not one for hobbies, but given the weather in Binghamton, it is not too demanding a pastime and it gives me great pleasure to discover these hidden delights. I especially like noticing the little details created by some unknown craftsman. Patterns in woodwork or masonry are particularly wonderful. Peaks, porches, doors, and windows are opportunities for some creative detail to emerge. Many details are covered up by vinyl siding, the bane of the preservationist's existence, but I believe that someday we will re-discover our own neighborhoods like some archeologist. 

My father (photographer Robert Johnston) always urged me: "Whenever you hear about a building torn down, go photograph it." Much of the architecture of the early part of  the 20th century in Binghamton is being squandered, so part of my mission is to document it before it disappears. 

The other part is to inspire restoration and it is particularly gratifying to photograph a re-claimed house or building. The renovation of my own house has made me appreciate the workmanship and materials in old houses all the more. I find myself pulling old windows and doors and other details off the curb, many of which are in this show. 

For me, another aspect of healing the urban landscape lies in growing flowers. Many of my pictures blend architecture and nature and I have the fine example of my mother's (Ruth Johnston) close-up color photographs of flowers to aspire to. My vision of an urban renaissance would start with restoring period architecture and planting an abundance of flowers. 

As individuals, we don't have complete control over our neighborhoods or cities but we can begin to notice our urban landscape. And we can begin to value what we like, by restoring it, encouraging others, and creating beauty where we can. 

Peg Johnston