Liverpool Art

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Ancient Greece, endless art, John Lennon’s pub… and the longest nude beach in Europe?

Stepping off the train that morning at Lime Street, with the jukebox in my head – alright i-pod, I’m showing my age – automatically selecting and playing a medley of Beatles hits, with England’s most brassy, sassy and exotic accent ringing in my ears, I was definitely in Liverpool. Or was I? Because the first sight that hits you – and it does hit you, la – when you walk out of the station is straight out of ancient Athens, the awe inspiring St George’s Hall. Imagine the Parthenon, but in much better nick. A 19th Century manifestation of municipal chutzpah on a monumental scale. This was Liverpool’s swaggering announcement to the world that it had arrived. I paused for a minute, letting my awe be well and truly inspired.

But I didn’t linger too long, I had, if you’ll forgive me, a ticket to ride and instinct was drawing me to the Liverpool Philharmonic. The ‘Phil’, as its known locally, is a pub – a mini-symphony of boozer architecture and one of John Lennon’s favourites in his ‘pre-Fab days’. The place began life as a Victorian gin palace and is wonderfully over the top. It’s a place where ladies frequent the gents more than the bar, on a guided tour that is, to visit the Grade II listed toilets. There were any number of virtuosi conversationalists in the bar and it was tempting to stay for the encore. With the accolade of being last years European Capital of Culture I had a thirst to find out what had secured Liverpool this impressive title.

“The street I was on seemed to have more than its share of creative-looking types, so I tagged on and found myself in the Bluecoat. A happy accident, because it meant I could take in some art and then an early lunch… All in the same place.”

The Grade I Listed building is an architectural gem, and at almost 290 years old it’s the oldest building in the city centre. Having said that, a recent refurb has given the interior a very ‘today’ look, with each of the four gallery spaces having a distinctly different feel, side-tracked by a savoury scent I headed ‘Upstairs at the Bluecoat’, a restaurant and bar that prides itself on serving home-cooked food using locally sourced ingredients.  Judging by the treacle baked bacon and pikelets with caper and anchovy butter I enjoyed, the pride is not misplaced.  Scousers aren’t shy to boast about their home city. And there’s nothing to be shy about. Buy me a pint in the Phil sometime and I’ll expound on my theory that Liverpool is the Easternmost city of the USA, positively American in its gregarious big-hearted energy and streetwise cool. Don’t believe me? Get yourself the round trip ticket on the Mersey Ferry and, as you feel the breeze in your hair, the sun on your face and marvel at the best-looking waterfront in England, you’ll feel positively Manhattanite.

Suitably refreshed, the tang of the sea in the air led me inevitably in the direction of the docks. More precisely, the historic Albert Dock, where Tate Liverpool is now moored with its cargo of national treasures. As a very well informed member of staff told me, in that unmistakable accent, this includes works from the Tate Collection, plus a programme of exhibitions of the best in modern and contemporary art I could have stayed there for hours. Literally so, because on the last Thursday of every month ‘Late at Tate’ means the gallery is open until nine in the evening for special events.  Not that long ago, this huge commercial harbour was a bleak overgrown wasteland, an eyesore and a painful reminder of the city’s decline. Now it’s a metaphor for Liverpool’s rebirth, and a good place to pick up everything from that i-pod to a sherbet dab to a replica Everton top.