So here they all are, plastered over every inch of wall space - 500 snapshots, whittled down from an initial 13,000, one of which will be picked to represent the defining image of Britain in 2001 and collect a £10,000 first prize.
The distinguishing feature of the YR1 project is its democracy. Unlike the Turner or the Booker anyone can have a go and as anonymity is preserved throughout the judging process, amateurs compete on equal terms with pros.
The difficulty with democracies, however, is that they are so democratic. How do you make sense of such a barrage of imagery? How does the bigger picture emerge from this composite, national photo album?
Perhaps we should try to read the signs: the man erecting a "sorry no fuel" banner at a service station, for instance. Or the two asylum seekers in a subway, whose scrawled notice uncertainly declares: "British refugee who helps me."
What else might we glean about our national condition? We like our dogs. We like our sausages. Maybe the visitors' comments book will provide some illumination. "Sadness, violence, humour, misery - the human condition!" remarks one spectator.
"Shite, crap, poo," reads the entry underneath.
In the end it boils down to personal preference. Twenty-five entries have been short-listed for the prize, some of which have an enjoyably accidental resonance, such as the snap of a gold-medal wearing Steve Redgrave extending his hand to be kissed by a woman wrapped in a St George's cross.
For me, the most complex iconography of Englishness emerges from a row of ladies beneath 1950s hairdryers, encapsulating the Bakelite styling of a sci-fi future that never came to pass.
But what do the subjects of the rest of the shortlisted entries reveal? Bobbing apples. Smiling postmen. Eric Morecambe. The defining characteristic of the British in 2001 is nostalgia.
Until July 7. Details: 0151-709 9460. Also at Stills Gallery, Edinburgh (0131-622 6200), until July 14, and the Photographers' Gallery, London WC2 (020-7831 1772), until July 22.
