Geordie Lamp

Out and about at work this week, I came across The Geordie Lamp via another work of art (which I'll come to in a bit). Curious about the piece in question, I headed off not up a hill or by a stream but to the local Lidl, which was my guiding star to this slice of West Moor heritage.

The North East holds its heritage close, and many people take pride in remembering its industrial heritage in particular. So, at a junction of a busy road clamouring with motorists and pedestrians, I found The Geordie Lamp designed by artists and sculptor Andy Myers. Sitting sedately, slightly back from the hubbub and in the shade of a huge oak tree, stands this huge perforated cylinder of weathered steel.

Sadly, there is currently no signage for this sculpture, which would help to give it place and context, but chatting to a few locals, its significance and prominence on this specific corner all fall into place.

Industrial darling of the North, George Stephenson lived only moments away from the site of the Geordie Lamp at Dial Cottage. I wonder what he'd have made of the engineering of this steel sculpture. He worked initially as a Brakesman at the West Moor Pit and was in charge of the winding gear. He lived a humble life at Dial Cottage, which was then one room over one, the upper floor being reached by a ladder. He designed the sundial himself, which gave his home its name.

But as Stephenson climbed the ladder, he did up Dial Cottage to make it into a four-bedroom home for his wife Frances and their young son Robert. Tragically, their second child died three weeks after birth, and this was followed by the death of his wife a year later when she succumbed to tuberculosis. So, Dial Cottage became somewhat of a sorrowful place, and Stephenson left West Moor to go and work in Montrose, Scotland, leaving his son in the care of a local woman. He returned a few months later to become an engine wright at the local colliery and in the ensuing years, designed a safety lamp for miners.

The lamp reduced the risk associated with naked flames and noxious gases in the mines, and it's said that the name of his lamp is one of the reasons people from Newcastle are called Geordies. There was competition between Stephenson's lamp and the Davy Lamp pioneered by Humphrey Davy, but Stephenson's had the edge. Illustration from A Treatise on Mine Engineering by George Clementson Greenwell 1869

He tinkered with the design to allow more light from the oil lamp and punctured the metal to allow for many circular orifices, enabling a series of circular holes to enable light to flood out. These orifices were the key to the lamp's success. Whereas Davy's lamp would overheat in the presence of poisonous gases, the Geordie Lamp would extinguish. Snuffing with it the possibility of death. It did, however, rely on a glass sleeve, which made it vulnerable to breakage down the pit. Whilst Davy's lamp shone around many British pits, it was Stephenson's Geordie Lamp that shone the brightest in pits in the North East of England.

Here, sculptor Andy Myers captured the essence of many circles in a cylinder, coupled with height for smooth air flow and designed a larger than life Geordie Lamp to remind people passing of the significance of this life saving equipment.

I spoke to Andy Myers who told me “The lamp is one of Stephenson's many inventions, which were all the more remarkable considering his humble beginnings and the fact that he was illiterate until the age of 18. The scientific community initially rejected his idea for a safety lamp, even though it was a superior design to its competitor; they did not believe a man from his background could have come up with the idea. As a result of this, the lamp was only ever used in the North East.”

Lidl sits on the site of the old Killingworth Pit, and there are said to be remnants of Stephenson's workshops underneath the Lidl car park, with signs of tracks having run parallel with the Great Lime Road in people's gardens in the houses close to the lamp sculpture.

The sculpture, made from steel, has weathered down nicely and blends into the area. Standing at 3.6 meters, you can look into the guts of the lamp and see its workings, which spill out light during the hours of darkness.

Andy said “The sculpture honours George Stephenson, who began his career at the Killingworth Colliery, which used to exist on the site. The sculpture takes its inspiration from Stephenson's miners' lamp, and the dimensions relate to the steam engine locomotives constructed on the site.”

It's a good reminder about the relevance of public art. Some people can tend to get their knickers in a bit of a twist about what they can perceive as wasted money, but I wonder if any type of public art which brings to light some chunk of significant heritage is worth it for the questions it encourages. I think Lidl paid for this one.

Back to work, and I was impressed with the beautiful textile piece at West Moor Community Centre, where I'd gone for a meeting. It was made by the Stitcherz Project, a group of local West Moor residents under the guidance of artist Rachael Brien. It picked up on reflecting the themes of what was important to these people of the West Moor community. Each tiny stitch creatively capturing the essence of the past of West Moor, giving significance to the term 'a stitch in time'. Art influencing art, mirroring history.

Thanks to Andy Mayers for chatting on and for sharing his photos of his art work.

He's coming to visit the North East in the summer and was happy to find The Fabulous North to help plan his travels!

You can watch a short film here on the making of The Geordie Lamp and see the ingenious process that went into making it.