Janus

Janus is a curious two headed fellow, found here on a path just above the river in Bedlington Country Park.

Traditionally, in myth and legend, he's the Roman god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, passages and endings. He is usually depicted as having a double head, one looking forward, and one looking back.

It was a little bit intimidating then when our dog pooed in plain sight of both his heads! Like a sure-fire sign that we were in the wrong! The massive metal pedant ensured that poo bags were at the ready so this double bonced baddie couldn't grass us up!

This is an urban artwork by sculptor Peter Burke, an artist who's keen to explore what it means to be human, using means that reflect his environment and experience. Burke, from Wiltshire, grew up in a family used to graft; they were tailors and shoe makers, and he himself worked at Rolls-Royce Aero Engines, training to be a jig and tool designer before embarking on a career as an artist at Bristol School of Art.

This is a chunky piece, with little fine tuned detail. Just functional and heavy, blocky and big. Look at these rivets holding together the Easter egg like shells of Cast Weathering Steel. This functionality is essential to Burke's work and is entirely intentional.

Burke says of the objects he depicts in his work, “I make to expose their means of construction and materiality”. Here, on this piece, we see all of the workings on the outside that hold this piece together. It's like a part in the process, and not a finished work of art. It looks like a mould, like it's ready to pour out a whole host of Janus heads on a production line.

This is specifically poignant here in this now wooded valley, regenerated by nature. If you take a walk down to the river, you can still see the walls of the old Iron and Engine Works in Bedlington Dene, adjacent to the River Blyth.

From 1736 to 1867 The Bedlington Iron and Engine Works was a hive of industry, spitting out sparks and making nails and iron rails just below Furnace Bridge in East Bedlington. You can glean an idea of what it looked like here in this photo from Bedlington Local History Society. The natural resources of the River Blyth were used to power the machines that manufactured wrought iron nails, invented here by John Birkenshaw in 1820. This led to contracts with the Stockton and Darlington Railway, which opened in 1825. Materials would be loaded onto barges at the Port of Blyth, a mere kick in the knickers North of where they were destined.

But nails soon progressed to rails, and Birkenshaw was adept at the skills required to develop the malleable iron rails needed for the fabrication of the Stockton and Darlington Railway. In 1837, they were used in the creation of the first Russian Railway. Bits from Bedlington taken by boat to distant lands.

On the other side of the river stood the locomotive works, which from 1837 to 1852 built Bedlington Locos. You can get a feel for the hustle and bustle of this busy industrial site from this sketch of 1840, also from Bedlington Local History Society. You can see the small coal waggons which soon progressed to locos pulling trains all over the world, and impressively, the first train to leave London's Kings Cross was hauled by a Bedlington Loco.

So the peace and tranquillity of the dene we see today is the aftermath of a busy industry putting Bedlington on the map.

Erected in December 2011, this sculpture shows what came out of these lands, but also how they were made, using the very materials that were produced for heavy industry and manufacture.

It's simple in its stature, and it's a shame that the curation of the piece is a little rough around the edges. The visibility of the bare concrete holding it in place slightly undermines the strength of the piece for me. But I like the way you get a different perspective standing in different places.

From some angles, it looks functional and tool like, like a piece of machinery for boring or lifting. It looks like it should have a purpose and perform a job!

Then, from other angles, it looks almost ghostly, like monks at prayer, huddled together seeking solace in the peace of the river, each head tipped and bowed slightly in reverence

I love the close up encounter, as if you're inside the man's head, right inside his thoughts. His look is contemplative and rested as if he's listening to the bird song and the flow of the river. The woods were alive with copycat thrush calls, like jackpot winning fruit machines!

If you look closely, side by side, are they the same face? What do you think? I think there are subtle differences, but maybe just a different cast from the same mould.

The two headed element of Janus is a reminder of what came before and what was to come. It reflects the clank of hammers and the sparks of the foundry, a change from heavy industry to a peaceful park over time, and a halt in the availability of natural materials and production.

The mould like elements depict the practical workings of this place, but for me, the face of the man inside suggests how the community was moulded into working in industry. People rolled out of bed and into big industry. It's what kept countless northern communities afloat. The face reminds us that this was the face of pretty much every man.

It's a reflection of the grit and elbow grease of dirtier industries that are our heritage, with a face looking forward to a greener, cleaner way of living.