Imagine a towering sculpture, a symbol of dreams and resilience, standing proudly on the site of a former colliery, yet seemingly forgotten by the world. This is the story of 'Dream,' a monumental artwork that exerts a quiet power over the landscape, yet feels more like a secret than a celebration.
Perched atop the remnants of the Sutton Manor colliery, 'Dream' gazes out across the M62 motorway, its serene visage a stark contrast to the industrial history it commemorates. Created by artist Jaume Plensa in collaboration with former miners like Gary Conley, this sculpture was meant to honor the legacy of St Helens' mining community. But here's where it gets controversial: instead of becoming Merseyside's answer to the Angel of the North, 'Dream' has been relegated to obscurity, hidden behind trees and seemingly treated as an afterthought.
Gary Conley, who spent 18 years working underground at the colliery, calls the situation 'scandalous.' He believes St Helens should be leveraging 'Dream' as a cultural and economic asset, not concealing it. 'We should build a whole industry around this sculpture,' he argues, 'not try to hide its worth.' And this is the part most people miss: 'Dream' is no longer visible from the motorway, a fact that Conley and other ex-miners find deeply frustrating.
Forestry England, responsible for the surrounding woodland, has promised to explore ways to reveal new views of the sculpture during maintenance. But for Jim Housely of the Northwest Miners Heritage Association, the issue is personal. With a family history rooted in the mines, Housely sees 'Dream' as more than just art—it's a tribute to the sacrifices of his ancestors. Yet, he laments the lack of amenities at the site, noting the absence of a cafe, parking, or even basic facilities like toilets. 'It’s a wonderful place to visit,' he says, 'but it could be so much more.'
The sentiment is echoed by Jeff Bannister, another ex-miner who feels the mining industry’s contributions are being erased from history. 'My father and grandfather worked here,' he reflects, 'and it means a lot to us.' In its heyday, the colliery employed 1,500 miners daily, producing 600,000 tonnes of coal annually. Today, the site is quiet, its industrial noise replaced by the rustle of walkers and cyclists. But the question remains: why isn’t 'Dream' being celebrated as the cultural landmark it deserves to be?
St Helens Council, the sculpture’s owner, insists it’s 'incredibly proud' of 'Dream,' highlighting its use in marketing campaigns. Yet, opportunities like its appearance in the Netflix drama Stay Close were not fully capitalized on, leaving locals to wonder if the authorities are missing a golden opportunity. Public art expert Laurie Peake agrees, suggesting that 'Dream' could be a 'gateway' to St Helens, a beacon that draws visitors and sparks imagination. 'Public art is a flag,' she says, 'a way to say, 'We’re here, and we’re worth visiting.''
But here’s the real question: Is 'Dream' a hidden gem waiting to be rediscovered, or a symbol of a community’s struggle to preserve its identity? What do you think? Should 'Dream' be transformed into a major tourist attraction, or is its quiet existence part of its charm? Let us know in the comments—this is a conversation that deserves to be as bold and thought-provoking as the sculpture itself.
