My family roots run deep in Killingworth and Forest Hall. We grew up in Washington, but my mam's side of the family are from this part of the world, and my nanna lived just a few doors up from George Stephenson's Dial Cottage — a piece of genuine industrial history that's still standing today. At the ripe old age of 44, I had absolutely no idea it was there when I was a kid. That discovery has made this whole journey of designing these artworks all the more fascinating — deciding what to put on them, how to arrange a flowing composition, and uncovering the stories hiding in plain sight.
And it wasn't just my nanna nearby — aunties and my grandad all lived close by too, which meant Killingworth and Forest Hall were very much the centre of our family world growing up. The visits were always something to look forward to, even if not everyone in the family was quite so easy to warm to. My grandad was a man of few words and even fewer smiles — let's just say warmth wasn't his strongest suit. I do have a hazy memory of a BMW Isetta — one of those tiny little one-seater bubble cars that looked like nothing else on the road — parked up nearby. Whether it was his, a mate's, or just someone passing through, I honestly couldn't tell you. But it was there, and it stuck with me. A peculiar little thing, cool in a way that's hard to explain.
Dial Cottage itself is a fascinating piece of history. It was the home of George Stephenson — the father of the railways — and it sits quietly in Killingworth almost hidden in plain sight. The cottage gets its name from the sundial that Stephenson himself installed on the wall, which he used to set the time on his watch and regulate the colliery engine. To think that one of the most important figures in the history of the industrial world lived just up the road from where my nanna's house was — and I walked past without a second glance as a kid — is quite something.
Killingworth – The Lakes, the Fields & the Shops
My memories of Killingworth are still fresh, but hazy in a funny kind of way. Walking along the walls of the two lakes was always something else — it was a bit mind-blowing that such a vast expanse of water existed right there in Killingworth. Feeding the ducks and swans was an absolute must every single visit.
And then there were the stone hippo sculptures. I absolutely loved those as a kid — clambering on them, sitting on them, playing on them for what felt like hours. No screens, no tablets, no distractions. Just pure outdoor fun and a bit of imagination. The kind of simple childhood pleasure that you don't fully appreciate until you're older and looking back. Those hippos were a proper landmark and I'm sure anyone who grew up around Killingworth will know exactly what I mean.
On the field behind my nanna's — which I think is now Westmoor Primary School — we'd throw boomerang frisbees with cousins for hours. The school I remember has since been pulled down, and there's so much history in those bricks. It's a strange feeling knowing a place you played on as a child has been erased.
Classic supermarkets like Presto and Woolco were a genuine treat. Let's be honest, there wasn't a great deal else to do — but that was part of the charm. Simple times.
Pubs were a bit before my time, but I do remember the Flying Scotsman.
Forest Hall – The Pharmacy Horse, the Dog Bank & the Kets
Forest Hall holds some of my most vivid childhood memories. Hall's Pharmacy had a rocking horse outside, and I played on it every single time — with or without money in my pocket. There was also a charity dog money bank that we'd give a pet to, which we found absolutely hilarious every time without fail.
Mills newsagents was always a pilgrimage for sweets — or "kets" as we'd say up here. With pocket money budget courtesy of my nanna, we could buy an absolute boatload. Those little moments felt enormous at the time.
Killingworth Towers – Brutalist & Unforgettable
The brutalist architecture of Killingworth Towers was pretty ugly, if we're being honest — but utterly fascinating to look at, and very much part of the town's identity. I can just about remember them, and they've found their way into my thinking when it comes to capturing the character of the place in these designs.
From Memory to Art
I always knew we were getting close to my nanna's when we passed what I thought as a child was a very grand Gosforth Park Hotel — in reality, it's looking rather more aged these days! Then came a showroom full of bright yellow diggers and JCBs, which I later found out is now a car showroom. Like I said — a bit hazy, but those landmarks were the signposts of every visit.
The Design – Black, White & Built for Your Kitchen
I chose to design these pieces in black and white. It's a deliberate decision — neutral enough to sit comfortably in most kitchens without fighting with the decor, but bold enough to make a statement. Clean, timeless, and letting the subject matter do the talking.
Before putting pen to paper, I took the time to ask the people of Killingworth and Forest Hall what they felt should be included. The response was brilliant — an abundance of ideas and suggestions came flooding in, each one a little window into someone else's memories of the same places. It was that community response that's the main reason I ended up creating two separate designs rather than one. There was simply too much worth capturing to fit into a single piece.
These places shaped so many people's childhoods, and I hope these pieces capture a little of that — something to hang on your wall and spark a conversation, or a memory, of your own.
