I’ve written and rewritten this. I’ve considered not publishing it, because anyone who picked up the last issue* has already read much of the sentiment. But the situation has moved on, moved back, and then moved on again, and it’s infuriating that an exhibition that should have been a celebration of The Royal Standard’s time in this building got wrapped up in legal (ish) nonsense.
If you’re not up to date, The Royal Standard (and every other studio in the Northern Lights building) was served an eviction notice earlier this year. The Royal Standard were given a slight extension until June 2026 while they sought alternative space for the charity to base itself, and its resident artists. Then they were met, a day after their final exhibition opened, to a new eviction notice, preventing access to the building, two months early. Then, they went to the press and, as I’ll go into, got back in – for now.
Liverpool’s Baltic triangle was founded on principles of independence. In the month that it’s first ASDA opened, its biggest art studio faced the surreal situation of walking to open the doors on an exhibition, to find an eviction notice pinned to the door.
There’s a review of that exceptional exhibition later in this paper, but here, I want to address something genuinely serious (again, because I wrote about this in detail in the last issue, but the situation has evolved, sped up, and become significantly more volatile).
Art in Liverpool is not a news source. We are not reporters. We are not subject to any sort of media oversight. We write about art, and it’s usually joyful. But, this is important, so it’s worth noting that Dunsanj Real Estate, the landlords, deny most of what has been claimed – although some of it is unavoidably factual, photographed and recorded. Legally, that rebuttal should be included.
Anyway – I assume that covers me legally, so. This is despicable. The Royal Standard had agreed the end of June to leave the building, with full use and normal rent to be paid until then. In the press, their landlords had celebrated their contributions to the space, at the same time, the artists have reported being laughed at, and intimidated by them.
What was reported to us, was that the landlords refused to provide invoices for the final months of the tenancy, despite their tenant’s request, seemingly in order to force the studio into missing payments.
So on the day that what was almost definitely going to be their final exhibition in this building should have opened, it didn’t. An entire city of artists was refused an opportunity to say a proper goodbye to a building that has done so much good.
There’s also the materials library, trialling public access space for materials and circularity. That’s shut without access. Every artist whose entire practice is now locked behind a legally dubious piece of paper. Every bit of kit The Royal Standard has hoarded away since their foundations in Vauxhall. Every box of tea bags, the kettle, the chairs, the seats, saved from Tate Liverpool before their last renovation.
There is history locked behind a wall of fear and intimidation, and a massive community of artists whose present practice and potentially immediate career concerns are locked out with it. At the time of printing, that access has been temporarily restored so that the final exhibition can be seen (by appointment), and so artists can have access to recover their property, but to say goodbye to a building that’s filled with such love – despite building conditions rapidly worsening in recent years – just feels wrong.
The intention of the baltic is still there. There is a good team of genuinely passionate staff working in that office, wanting to pursue the dream of an independent creative quarter, but is it too late? Have developers won the battle for space here?
Maybe. Maybe there’s enough independent ambition left with the owners of some of those creative spaces (Hobo Kiosk, Camp + Furnace, Love Lane, CBS, District, Elevator, and on and on and on) to inspire a realisation in developers that the future of their investment relies entirely on ensuring the space they’ve bought remains creative, accessible, and open for experimentation.
Imagine a world, in the not-too-distant future, where Camp + Furnace (the original A Foundation) was so beat down by noise complaints that they just stopped. Imagine a world where District wasn’t hosting young bands because they didn’t exist, having never had a practice room in the first place. Imagine a world where Hobo Kiosk was forced to sterilise itself to fit with what became of Jamaica Street. And then wonder if you’d still bother buying a flat there? No. You’d be better off saving the premium associated with the creative quarter and moving half a mile down the road.
This is a rant by a writer who is absolutely not a journalist. None of the above is based in law; it’s based in morality, because if you’re choosing to develop somewhere because artists made it worth it, you need to, as a bare minimum, respect them. That hasn’t happened here. They deserve better, and you don’t deserve the keys.
This won’t be the end of the baltic. Because enough people still care. But those that still care deserve care.
*March – we had to take some time off and needed to miss April’s print
