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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
National
Mark Brown North of England correspondent

‘She is looking worse for wear’: visitors take a toll on the Lady of the North

Northumberlandia, near Cramlington in Northumberland.
An aerial view of Northumberlandia taken in 2012. Photograph: Graeme Peacock/Alamy

Even with a broken ankle, eight-year-old Jack Bell can’t resist barrelling up the steep incline of the naked goddess’s left breast.

Neither can his two friends, and the person in charge, Jack’s mother, Laura Bell, admits this is a regular occurrence and, with a child’s natural urge to climb, there’s not much she can do about it.

“If they had signs then mums could tell them it’s not allowed,” said Bell, a childminder.

There are signs coming to Northumberlandia, an important and popular example of work by the late American landscape designer Charles Jencks – and visitors say they are needed.

Created from 1.5m tonnes of rock, clay and soil from a nearby open cast coalmine, Northumberlandia, or Lady of the North, is a vast reclining female figure, perhaps a naked ancient goddess, which when seen from the air looks magnificent.

But seen up close at ground level the lady is looking tired and worn with unsightly patches of damage. Its custodians, Northumberland Wildlife Trust, this week put out an appeal calling for the public to stick to paths as it embarks on repair work, which will take years to complete.

Erosion of the sculpture.
Erosion of the sculpture. Photograph: Mark Pinder/The Guardian

Families had been sliding down the steepest part of the sculpture as if it were a fairground slide, the trust said. Instead of using designated footpaths, visitors, some with buggies, have been clambering up the grass to get to the different peaks more quickly.

“She is looking worse for wear,” said the estates officer, Peter Ernst. “People see there’s a line and they just walk up it even though there is an obvious path. Kids just think it is a big playground, which I understand … but look at the state of it.”

There is a sign at the entrance to Northumberlandia asking people to keep to paths, but few on the artwork itself.

Those will come in the next few weeks but the last thing Ernst wants is a blizzard of unsightly signs. Nor does he want to fence parts of the sculpture off, but that may happen too.

“We’re going to put signs down but if people ignore those we will have to fence areas off which is time-consuming, costly and also we don’t want to ruin what you can see.”

Ernst said the money they had, which comes from donations, could be spent on much better things than repairs.

He conceded that because there were no signs, people might think it was all right to stray. But he added: “To me, it’s common sense … Stick to the paths.”

Northumberlandia opened in 2012, with the Guardian critic Jonathan Jones declaring himself an early fan. “It is terrific,” he wrote. “This is no facile folly but a playful sculpture that celebrates the ancient human habit of seeing figures in the landscape.”

Jones also mused on what nickname the sprawling nude, a few miles north of Newcastle, might get in years to come. The Nude of the North? The Nymph of the North? Sid the Sexist’s favourite picnic site? None have been adopted and people seem happy with Lady of the North.

It was created by Jencks, a man regarded as the godfather of postmodernism and a true polymath who, as well as being an artist, polemicist, architectural historian and landscape designer, co-founded Maggie’s cancer caring centres with his late wife.

The Northumberland Wildlife Trust estates officer Peter Ernst.
The Northumberland Wildlife Trust estates officer Peter Ernst. Photograph: Mark Pinder/The Guardian

The hilly meadow sculpture, 34 metres high and 400 metres long, is the largest sculpted human form in the world, according to its creators.

Since the pandemic it has been more popular than ever, with about 110,000 people visiting annually, compared with about 60,000 previously.

“During the school holidays, you can’t move some days, it is just so busy, which is brilliant and we’re so happy,” said Ernst. “We just want people to stick to the paths.”

Margaret and Paul Wright, a retired couple from nearby Cramlington, were at the sculpture’s highest point enjoying the view. On a good day you can see the Cheviots. It was grey and chilly when the Guardian visited, but the views and the atmosphere were still spirit-lifting.

“I think they should have a huge sign when you come in: ‘Please, stay on the path,’ otherwise the erosion will close this place,” said Paul.

“And that would be so sad,” said Margaret. “It’s healthy coming here. It’s something on our doorstep. You’ve got all the nature … it’s just wonderful.”

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