Focus on a photographer

59 Rodney Street, Liverpool: The home and studio of photographer Edward Chambré Hardman

Liverpool is once again the destination for a National Trust property of cultural rather than architectural interest. No, not the former home of another member of the Beatles - the houses of Paul McCartney and John Lennon are already National Trust properties - but this time it is the home and photographic studio of Edward Chambré Hardman.

Hardman, who died in 1988, was the city's leading portrait and landscape photographer of the mid-20th century. He retired in 1965 and left a photographic archive of more than 142,000 images and the workings of his entire photographic practice.

The house and studio at 59 Rodney Street, which Hardman shared with his wife Margaret, has been conserved, catalogued and returned to the way it looked in the 1950s. The project was carried out by a group of volunteers, local groups and the National Trust. It was supported by a large grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund.

The imposing 18th-century Georgian terrace house is below the Anglican Cathedral in the centre of Liverpool. The property appears to be enjoying early success, as I found to my cost when I had to wait two weeks before I could gain admission. You have to book in advance as entry is by timed ticket and when you visit you join a small group of no more than six people.

As you arrive at the entrance you are directed to the garage at the rear of the property, which once housed the Hardmans' Daimler and is now the visitor reception. You then go to the front entrance, ring the bell and are invited inside by a volunteer to wait until your group is assembled.

The visit begins in the Changing Room with an introductory video of about six minutes. The projection would have been better placed on the far wall as it is uncomfortably close. A volunteer guide, one of at least six who we were to meet during our visit, explained that we were to see the public and the private quarters of the Chambré Hardmans.

We started with the public and working areas of the house. The Waiting Room was the smartest room, although the furnishings were solid rather than of any quality. We were directed to look at samples of Hardman's work with mounts and frames and a price list. In the Changing Room, clients would change into their preferred outfits - army uniform, wedding dress or formal robes. Famous customers included Margot Fonteyn and Ivor Novello.

The Studio on the first floor was the original drawing room and here we could see the stage set for action. Those of a technical nature could explore the range of lights, cameras and backdrops. One or two photographs of famous sitters gave a glimpse of Hardman's work.

The visit continued with the Dark Room, packed with all the workings of a busy studio, and the Exhibition Room, where we saw some of his original prints and equipment. There is his most famous photograph, The Birth of the Ark Royal, 1950, with a small newspaper boy in the foreground. Since the house opened to visitors, 192 people have apparently telephoned to say they are the boy in the photograph.

Next we visited the private quarters where visitors become voyeurs to the chaotic private lives of the Hardmans. This was a couple whose passion was photography and nothing else mattered. The tiny living space 'over the shop' includes a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom, all of which are presented as a snapshot in time. Filled with clutter, there are postwar rations and tins of food so old they would frequently explode.

Beyond the roped doorway is their rather grim bedroom, a jumbled and confined space. There are many personal items on display including Margaret's dentures in the kitchen cabinet, love letters, toiletries and clothes. The couple had no children and rarely, if ever, entertained. They did have a dog. Margaret Hardman is said to have joked: 'What do Scotland and our kitchen have in common? Both have Islands of Muck.'

There is more to see as we are directed down narrow stairs to the cellar. The cellar was used for processing and developing negatives and is, predictably, completely cluttered with items thrown in disarray among the working equipment. There are Christmas presents still in their wrappings and a cupboard filled with oddments of chipped crockery and glasses.

The final rooms of the visit, all overfilled with the workings of a busy photographer, include the office space and the Retouching and Finishing Room. (Attention to detail was vital to Hardman, who would make notes about eye colour and collect locks of hair and pieces of fabric to enable him to achieve accurate tinting.)

There is also the Mounting Office, the one area that was kept clean, which was necessary to avoid spoiling the prints. Two bicycles lean against the wall; a symbol of the Hardmans' regular rides into the countryside to take pictorial landscapes. Photography was their passion and the focus of every aspect of their lives.

Outside the building there is a small garden. Visitors leave through the garage reception, where a small selection of postcards are on sale. A range of posters and photographic images are to be added to the items that can be bought. The large archival collection has been moved to the Liverpool Record Office for cataloguing and there is a plan for a study room where visitors will be able to access this considerable collection of images, photographic books and journals.

There are some shortcomings. In particular, the volunteer guides, one to each room, are overwhelming and prepared scripts were held awkwardly in large white folders. Small cards with one guide for each group would have worked better. Also, there was too little of Hardman's work for us to see.

We were presented with glimpses but there was a lot missing. Where were the images of the pictorial landscapes and the many society people he had photographed? I am sure this will improve when the archival collection is ready for public consumption.

It is worth a visit to 59 Rodney Street and it does offer the type of space that is under-represented in the National Trust portfolio of buildings. Seeing the studio and working spaces of a society photographer during the mid-1950's is informative. But I am not convinced that viewing the sanitised interpretation of private spaces, never intended for public consumption, has given me a greater insight.

Pat Sterry is the programmes director of the Centre for Heritage Studies at the School of Art and Design, University of Salford