Photo by Christoph Oberschneider
Dream Time Acknowledgement "The spiritual certainty of infinite love in the heart of a conscious human being"...
ART HISTORY : TATE LIVERPOOL 2007 In 1986 I had a dream that I was in Liverpool but a Liverpool of the past, a dirty, sooty, industrial, Victorian Liverpool. I was sitting under a "tree of light" on an island in the middle of Falkner Square Park. I saw some people in dark clothes, rain macs and top hats. Suddenly one of the people appeared beside me and he asked me my name, I told him my name was Mr Swiss Roll. He introduced himself as Carl Young. He asked me what I was doing here ? I told him "I am a photographer and that I take photographs of Liverpool to show the world that behind the soot, that behind the dirt, that behind the sins of the city that the city and its people are beautiful and special. He laughed and said to me "You always want to "see" the good in people don’t you ? Sometime you have to see things for the way they really are" I said to him "You are a tourist, your not a Scouser, what do you know of my Liverpool ?" He said "Come... take a walk with me"... and the thing next we were walking along Princes Avenue we stopped by a street sign. The street sign was painted in red, yellow and green. I asked him "Why are you showing me this ?" He said "You painted it... you should paint more, you are also painter" We walked some more and everywhere we went the streets signs in the area were all painted. Then he said he had to leave to get back to his time machine and I was back on the island but now the City was no longer sooty and dirty but shining with white buildings everywhere. I felt an overwhelming sense of peacefulness. When I woke the dream stayed with me, I had some cans of car spray paint and I quickly dressed and went outside. There first street sign that I saw was Kingsley Road. Using a piece of cardboard, I sprayed the sign, red, yellow and green. I stood back ..it looked beautiful and over the next four weeks I went around Toxteth, Liverpool 8 and painted more signs. I even got some help from some local youths and one night we went out with a ladder and painted the T O X T E T H sign at the junction of Upper Parliament Street, Princes Avenue and Catherine Street. I started to paint and eventually graduated to doing canvasses. The overwhelming feeling that came from doing the first one was one of ..."I can make my dreams come true" THE FEELING HAS MOTIVATED ME EVER SINCE .. I'm not just a photographer I am also a painter. I AM ALSO A POET AND AN AUTHOR, I AM ALSO A DIRECTOR AND FILM MAKER I AM ALSO A CREATOR AND CURTOR OF A GALLERY I am my dreams becoming reality
Photo by Yzerg
Table of Contents
Photo by Kevin Zaouali
The Objective
A CAPSTONE MEDIA PROJECT
The Digital Art Factory To create a gallery space that is to be primarily an archival photographic space to house my photographic heritage collection of Liverpool’s Diverse Cultural Community and to also curate the works of other photographer’s work representing diversity in Liverpool, My name is Leroy Cooper and since 1984 – 1985 I have been photographically document Liverpool in the post 1981Toxteth Riots environment up to the present day. I have spent over 30 years creating my collection and the time has come to create a gallery space that can be of benefit to the community and the city of Liverpool. I created a promotional publication titled BACK IN THE DAY Vol 1. This was to test market the potential of my photographic collection to be the foundation of my company going forward. The resulting book was well received within the diverse community of Liverpool 8 and the wider city. It was also well received in professional photographic circles in the UK being included in the archives of AUTOGRAPH (London) They share the work of artists using photography to highlight identity, representation, human rights & social justice and in the archives of the Martin Parr Foundation based in Bristol . As well as donating the original manuscript / blueprint book to Liverpool Central Library (including a large canvas that was the central exhibition piece on display at Toxteth Library during July & August 2019) I had the good fortune to meet Nick McDowell, Director @ Arts Council at a photographic event at the OPEN EYE GALLERY in Liverpool and gave him a copy of my publication and we exchanged business cards. At the same event I met and exchanged business cards with Anna Maloney, Head of Culture Partnerships at the Department for Digital, Culture, Media & Sport, As you know I also met Caroline Meaby, Director Network, Arts. She too received a copy of BACK IN THE DAY Vol1. I am going to create a gallery eventually to house my collection and offer training in the visual arts. I mention all this to show that I have actively promoted my photography and my publications via social media platforms and networked successfully because I have the energy, the passion and the talent to make a significant contribution to Liverpool’s and ultimately Britain’s arts & cultural landscape over the coming decade, in what will be a post Brexit / post covid19 environment. My legacy to the future will be the photographic archive that I have created. My grassroots link means that I can be a beacon to others to show that by transforming one’s life through the use of art & creativity, education & training, one can make a positive difference and create employment opportunities for yourself and others. I want to take this moment to thank Toxteth TV who have actively supported me and on occasions trained me in documentary film making. I want to be that person that I’ve heard people talk of but never seen, the person who turned away from crime and negative activities and applied themselves, to positivity and legal business and made a success of themselves but more importantly also helped others.
Photo by Davide
Photo by Yavuz Pancareken
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Photo by Lois Lee
AN OCEAN OF TEARS... By Leroy Cooper. August 2020 I seem to be shedding tears A lot these days... An ocean of tears Unexpectantly Quietly alone Where no one can see Because of... A song A photograph A memory A future that is dawning.. Once they start I cannot... Command them to stop Like a king on a throne On the beach Trying to turn back the tide Am I the only one With an ocean of tears That they must hide ? It is ok To cry alone Tears of anger Tears of passion Tears of regret Tears of Joy Tears of congratulations Tears of fear Tears of illumination Tears of resistance Tears of grieving Tears of realisation It is ok To cry For The children Who are hungry For... The elders Ignored and forgotten Wisdom hidden in their wrinkles Them today You Tomorrow Tears for The woman The mother The wife The aunt The grandmother The teenaged girlfriend Under the relentless fists Lips swollen Eyes, bruised shut Is that you ? Crying ? Foetal position ? On the icy cold Chessboard tiles Of the bathroom floor ?
Tears For The estranged family The fucked up cycle unbroken For the real love That remains unspoken It is ok To shed Silent tears Tears for The poisoned rain And for the trees Chopped, hacked, slaughtered Like the un-named warriors In the human game of thrones That hidden psychopaths play Machine guns bursts To nuclear detonation For Those "soldiers" In the urban killing fields Of global cityscapes Poverty projects and shithole estates Lest we forget Tears for The endangered species The extinction crisis We are creating From the mighty elephant To the lion Once king of the jungle To the coral in oceans deep To tiny Amazonia frogs Tears I weep The tears cried the most ? Tears for a dystopian future For a blinded and brainwashed humanity Sleepwalking into technological enslavement Codified by our DNA Conquered and Eternally Divided Having been intellectually and economically overcome Taken control of... By billionaires And their Fascist media and military forces Those with "desired" biological upgrades And those without...
Photo by Dari Extension
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But still genetically modified For submission... By their future corporate pro-creation companies Masters and slaves Genetic Dictatorial Powers The Forcible eradication and extinction Of the "others" The others being US We either stand or we face the fall These are the tears cried the most For a future That is dawning If I could cry tears To save our Humanity There would be... Oceans On the moon and Mars And we would travel between the stars Taking our life force Into.. The Universe... Destiny calling We either stand Or we face the falling LOVE IS THE KEY…
Photo by Fritz Kellman
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Photo by Claudiu Maxim
Photo by Martin Leung
Photo by Claudiu Maxim
Poetry of Activism
It was 1981
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© 2021 There was a Riot There was burning & looting There were police casualties There were injured bystanders There were people shot... By police marksmen With C S gas Northern Ireland stylee There was Media TV Newspapers Radio Before the internet Before Social Media Before smart phones Before Boris and Brexit There were questions In the House of Commons There was one man dead His name was David Moore... There was a Prime Minister Her name was Maggie Thatcher There was a minister sent His name was ... Michael Heseltine He came to look And to report back He became Minister for Merseyside There was a garden festival Trees were planted There was 'investment' In Merseyside...but There were no jobs for Black people BUT YOU CAN VISIT THE ALBERT DOCKS NOW
There was a Royal wedding There were Riots in Brixton Bristol Manchester Birmingham There was A number one record By The Specials "This town is coming like a ghost town“ 1981 .... The year that changed my life ... forever 40 years later I publish books Of my photography and writings I found the silver lining In the cloud... Photography Positivity through creativity The Community has hope The Community has evolved The Community is full of talent 2021 The years that changed my life forever Leroy Cooper © 2021 Capstone Media Publishing
Photo by Ty Sheers
Photo by Alex Coman
THE DETECTIVE AND THE ESCORT I have fallen in love with you BUT… I don’t want to love you You are an escort A sex worker from Shoreditch You tell me you are viciously toxic Poisonous to the touch You say…”I don’t do relationships” #MeToo … Neither do I A private detective has no time Flitting in and out Of ghetto noire nightmares For catching feelings For we creatures of the night Live lonely, mistrustful lives How did we meet ? You required my services To track down the Mother Who gave you up to Social Care Just another job Just another fucked up life I can hear the cynicism in your voice I can see the fear in your eyes I can feel the pain in your soul I can smell the cigarette smoke and despair On your vintage designer clothes Your breath smells of vodka and regret Your high heeled shoes are expensive Your lipstick is red and cheap Its remains Stained on my heavy crystal glass I am in love with you BUT… I don’t want to love you I observe the way you twitch Whenever you hear police sirens I can see The traces of white powder In your nostrils You have three mobile phones A box of morning after pills And a knife Disguised as a dildo Alongside Two fake passports Bought in The Dam In your fake Chanel bag I’m asking no questions I offer no advice I listen When you tell me of losing your virginity While baby sitting In a tower block of despair Raped...you say At the age of 14 Dislocated isolation Frames every lie That slithers from your forked tongue
You have a tattoo Of a black scorpion On your left hip It’s no surprise It’s just your nature It is how you have learnt to survive Then you hire me to be your bodyguard To be your Driver While you work the night shift Incognito in black stockings Posh punters in hotels up the West End Seedy hooligans in brothels down in the East End Sex parties at big houses in the country I see the effects of abuse Behind your make up mask There are scars Deeper than a skin tissue of lies I see And yet I love you... You could bring out The best of me You could bring out The worst in me You could be the death of me Love can do that to you
The cold winter rain is falling In your icy heart Storm clouds on the horizon Of your tomorrows You are the trouble That comes unannounced Into the lives of the gullible You are the corrupted victim Become the carrier Yet I still love you... I am Wolff, The Private Detective With my hidden feelings You are Ms Kitty Katt The Escort With The Iceberg Heart Yet I still love you...
Photo by Arsyah
Photo by Shamila Lengsfeld
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Photo by Jarmo Piironen
LIVERPOOL... by Leroy Cooper. We were all children once Do we all remember ? Those little things... Don’t forget... Everything a child sees And everything they feel… Everything.. They remember The Good The Bad & The Ugly Parents should remember that Some of us Both men and women Are carrying issues From own abusive Distressed childhoods It’s not an excuse But children are sometimes Overlooked by parents Who should, Know better Who should, Care more Who should Listen more Who should Love more Who should remember The Wounded Child Inside themselves For this is the cruel travesty That a wounded spirit Will find it hard To care To share To trust To Love So the cycle continues Remember The Wounded Child Inside When you look upon The broken adults Remember The Wounded Child Inside
Photo by Claudiu Maxim
Photo by S utipond Somnam
Photo by Svante Berg
For a long time now people have been saying to me… “You should write a book Leroy Cooper, you’d make a lot of money out of it.” The gleam in their eyes always felt like what they really meant was “write a kiss and tell shocker” about your horrifying experiences in Liverpool and in the Toxteth ghetto. Exposing the filthy underbelly of the city is what they really meant. (All I heard was “sell out and make money”) With all the horror stories about unemployment, crime and poverty, violence and the mentally disturbed, about racism and the brutality of police, about heavy drug abuse and alcoholic destitution, just to titillate the mind of the reader in the leafy suburbs, (Give the public what they want. For a few dollars more, sell out.), telling the stories of broken hearts and of broken minds. How the system degradingly, breaks the human spirit, on its altars of corruption and exploitation. (For thirty pieces of blood stained silver, denounce your roots… Sell out!) Lifting the carpet to reveal the painful depravity that occurs when people suffer institutional abuse and emotional neglect, with their hopes and dreams crushed. When people feel as though or worse realise, they are hated and despised and in turn they learn to hate. How like a cancer, the negativity of this hate infects them and prevents them from developing into fully rounded, happy human beings. Reveal the “Under Classes” by being, a snooping fly on the wall photo-journalist, revealing the twisted and the grotesque, by revealing the morally and spiritually vacant. Write a book pointing the finger at the substandard human beings of a degenerate society. Revealing the ugly, retarded versions of who they could have been while being left on the benifit scrap heap of life, to rot and wither. (The truth is you know all that kind of stuff already. Go to any city in Britain and you can find these sad stories replicated over and over.) So while the middle classes, the fortunate and better off, show their “two faces” and turn a short sighted, puss bloated, blind eye, indifferent to the suffering of others, their “chav” sisters and brothers. (Is this some freakish Victorian fairground sideshow? I’ve asked myself) There always seem to be the hidden suggestion that I knew all about the rough, the sleazy and the seedy sides of life and therefore I could authentically represent, life at the shitty end of the stick, so to speak. I’ve never wanted to do what people expected of me and I do not want to trot out some generic, stereo-typical clichéd tale, of living the hard knock urban life.
Still it is an interesting story of how (against all the odds) I became, the man with a passion for art, a passion for life and all its beauty despite coming from an ordinary background and suffering the injustices of political and social scapegoat-ism. Despite the indifference of a racist society that fears the Black man because of its collective, not so secret, guilt. Despite wearing the scars of other peoples misunderstandings, misconceptions and misplaced ignorance on my sleeve. This might to the ignorant, just sound like, blah, blah, blah, a yawn! It feels like I am stating the obvious but this is my life and it’s all the experiences I’ve had, the people I’ve met, the good and bad, for better or for worse, that have sculpted me into the person that I am. Leroy Cooper: The Artist. A picture can say a thousand words so the saying goes so that’s why I have decided to let my photography and paintings do the bulk of my speaking for me. This book is a celebration of the power of perseverance in the face of adversity. A celebration of the dignity of working class people, who against all odds somehow retain their humanity and are not the lazy, workshy, criminally minded, benefits scrounging scum, as depicted by some sections of the media and that “they” would have you, believe. This first collection of my work is about my Liverpool. It is not going to inform on or praise devilish gangsters, the real hard-core grafters and the cocky bad boy hustlers. It is not going to expose pimps and prostitutes, drug dealers and bag heads. This book will not grass up shoplifters and alcoholics or armed robbers and safe crackers in shady boozers in “two dogs fighting”. This book will not point the finger at burglars, car robbers or children abused in the care system. This anthology will not sweep under the carpet, the victims of crime, the battered wives and girlfriends, the rape victims, the homeless, the unemployed and the people politicians do not listen to or care enough about, to create a more equal, fair and just society, before it is too late. This book will however make ignorant, racist bullies and bigots, hang their heads in shame and make you ask the question, “Are people forced into these criminal and deviant lifestyles by economic and social handicaps or could everyone be a productive member of society if given the chance or more importantly, a second chance ?” If hardship befell you, how would you cope? (Discuss)
