The World of Myth Magazine

Imagine you are driving from London to Edinburgh, following the A1 motorway, an old Roman road that snakes half the length of the UK. Eventually, when you are in the very far north of England you will come to the twin cities of Newcastle upon Tyne and Gateshead in the Tyne valley. Overlooking both cities, on a hill very visible from the road, you'll see a giant angel standing against the sky, coloured a deep red rust that seems to look either at you, or at the wide urban landscape beyond.

This is the Angel of the North, an (now) iconic symbol of the area, and the whole north eastern part of England. It is big, each wing weighs about 50 tons, and it is so tall and wide it can be seen from miles away, across the Tyne valley. Because it is on a hill overlooking the A1 this huge work is so noticeable and imposing it is a difficult thing to forget. Also, in films set in the area, such as the 2000 film Purely Belter, it has been seen (often semi-jokingly) as a sort of guardian angel –and today people really like image of that giant angel on that hill.

But as the last paragraph hinted, it was not always so popular. When it was first finished in 1998 it was commented on by newspapers as 'ugly' and 'depressing'. One local paper even compared it to a Nazi statue (which on reflection was silly) and nearby residents worried the only thing it would do was interfere with their TV receptions. It has taken a long time for the Angel of the North to be accepted – and then liked.

Standing beside it and looking up, it is difficult to not feel a sense of awe. The angel seems to rise from a stone-age-like mound of earth and defy the sky itself with its immensity. Like a lot of great classic art, it can only be fully appreciated when you have seen it close and in person. I am reminded of visiting the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam with a friend and seeing all the splodges of colour that made up his artworks, making it look more distressed and rain-like, something you just cannot see on an image of his paintings on the internet.

The symbolism of the statue is simple, but apt for this sort of giant public art project. The rusted iron colour symbolises the industrial past of the Tyne and Wear region, which was long associated with industry, mining and ship building, but the fact it is an angel is to suggest the information age in an abstract way. This is not a religious angel, but instead it is a metaphor for all the hopes and fears people will have as we move into the future – as said by the artist and designer Anthony Gormley to the Gateshead council in 2007. This is quite hopeful, suggesting (especially through the fact that it is a giant work of public art) that the often neglected and economically deprived north is changing with the times – that the north is reborn as a region. The association between angels and rebirth is vague, but it is there.

There is a lot to be said about public art, and the effect it can have on the people who live with it. Art is everywhere, when you stop to notice it. Even if you forget the whole 'what is art?' or 'anything could be art' kind of arguments, art is always around us and can change the way we feel about things. When we walk city streets and see statues to famous people from that area and history, or the ornate details on churches or public buildings, or even those unique-looking seats so often seen outside of libraries or universities in cities, we are often affected by them in some way. There's this idea that modern art is ugly compared to the sublime beauties of the past, and we tend to think that whatever is ugly will always be ugly, and this is especially true of 'ugly art'. But art is an almost every day part of our lives. Sometimes it can be controversial, but it can also be or become appreciated. Even loved. That is weird when you think about it.