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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
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