36 of 52: Lukewarm (by Sam Butler)
A dove flies above a man with a cigarette watching a pigeon in front of a Maltese stone in the grounds of a bombed-out church.
Why talk about the week when I can talk about this photograph? Pictured in the background is the magnificent ‘shell’ of the Church of St. Luke, known affectionately as “The Bombed-Out Church”, on the corner of Berry Street and Leece Street in Liverpool. The 19th-century church was hit by an incendiary bomb during World War II in May 1941. A group called “Urban Strawberry Lunch” are hailed as “artists in residence” at the roofless shell of the church, where charred wooden beams can be clearly seen hanging from the stone structures. From my observation, this resident artistry consists of a lot of new-age, hippyish activity including appropriately new-age music blasted out through a portable PA system, while the space that would once have accommodated the church’s altar is occupied by a ‘have-a-go’ bell-ringing device fabricated from scrap metal. Outside stood a degenerate alcoholic ringing a ‘bell’ (car wheel + lump hammer), for whom the slightly anxious woman at the church’s entrance apologised profusely. Still, the clincher for me was the photography exhibition inside, even if I did have to sign a safety waiver, get offered a hard hat, and watch my step amongst the uneven stepping stones and weedlike grass inside. The exhibition of photos by Liverpool-based group The Fab Collective was in fact thoroughly enjoyable, and I spoke briefly to one of the photographers, Pete Carr, before leaving my £1 donation and heading off to get lost wandering through Liverpool.