Much excitement in limited quarters about Tate Liverpool hosting the 2007 Turner Prize, and announcing the four short-listed artists.
As the city already hosts Britain's other big fine arts award - the John Moores, notching up half a century this year - and now has a biennial, the passing presence of the Turner, leaving London for the first time in its 22-year history, adds further gloss,

Tate (in London) will undoubtedly want to reclaim the Turner after 07/08 - it can never become a Merseyside fixture - and would never have come here had it not been for Capital of Culture.
Yet there is justification in the gesture. One of the finalists, Mark Wallinger, had his international reputation confirmed by an exhibition at Tate Liverpool in 2000, and two of the other four chosen artists have also had their work shown in Liverpool.
Gallery director Christoph Grenenberg, a chap who looks like he may have fathered the Milky Bar Kid, expects the Turner's Liverpool stint to boost tourism and gain wide media coverage.
Others would ask: what does all this mean if you live on the Boot Estate with a hole in the roof or the old people's home around the corner is faced with closure?
We do get over-excited at received wisdom, especially in cultural matters. We have been told that the Turner Prize is good for us - it may produce another Tracy Emin (who never won anyway) or Damien Hirst or Rachael Whiteread.
No unmade beds or prerserved cows so far - but your never know. Turner himself , meanwhile,should be turning in his grave.

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