Luke Cooper
About
Luke Cooper is a self-taught documentary photographer based in Manchester. His work focuses on people, architecture and landscapes, capturing images at every scale, from celebrated landmarks to quiet details that often go unnoticed. Whether in the built or natural environment, he aims to distil the atmosphere of a place through careful or spontaneous observation.
Working Title: Tony’s Barbers
This ongoing project documents Tony’s Barbers, a long-standing small business in Levenshulme, Manchester. Shot over five months during autumn and winter, the work explores the presence of a familiar local landmark within a community whose surroundings are ever changing.
Since moving to the area, I found myself gravitating towards Tony’s facade. Its 1960s shopfront, with white italic signage and the distinctive upside-down “N”, stands apart from the surrounding street and became something I noticed almost every time I passed. I began photographing the exterior from a distance, returning to the same spot outside Tesco over time to observe how the building sits within the everyday landscape.
After eventually catching the opening hours, I introduced myself to Tony and began photographing inside the shop. The interior, filled with a mishmash of City and United memorabilia, reflects both the character of the space and its social role within the area.
Speaking with customers and locals, it became clear that it is not just somewhere people go for a haircut. Together, these images document not only the appearance of the barbershop but its place within the local community.
Working Title: Jack’s Video Library
This ongoing project documents Jack’s Video Library, a family-run shop in Longsight, Manchester, whose identity has changed over time. Shot over several months, the work explores the traces of its past life alongside its current business as a trophy shop.
Since first passing by, I found myself drawn to the shopfront. Unlike the surrounding businesses, it has a slightly worn, DIY quality. What stood out most was the sign above the door reading Jack’s Video Library, even though the shop now sells trophies. That made me curious enough to step inside, where I met both father and son, each called Jack, on different visits.
Inside, the shop is lined with shelves of trophies, but tucked to one side is the original hand-painted sign, which Jack later explained used to hang outside until someone drove into the front of the shop a few years ago. I noticed a Ghoulies poster pinned high on the wall, a gremlin-like creature emerging from a toilet and surely a rip off (a Bogwai you could say), and on another visit Jack showed me his collection of old film posters that once filled the walls.
These details hint at the shop’s layered history and previous identity. Through these images, the project documents not only the physical space but the traces of memory that remain within it.
