In the cloisters at Norwich Cathedral, look up, or you’ll miss the 400 remarkable sculptures above.

The ceiling forms a network of stone ribs, and wherever they cross, a carved stone knot - called a boss - locks the joint. These could have been left plain. Instead, each is sculpted, and no two are alike: a “green” man peering out through gilded leaves, an owl in a pear tree, a lion with a fierce dog, even the end of the world unfolding, scene by scene. Dating from 1297, they were born of necessity, but that same necessity also invited creativity and storytelling in stone - essential in an era when many people couldn’t read.

By the railway station in Middlesbrough, a collection of carved keystone heads stand on plinths, low enough to approach. Wheat grows from one man’s brow, carved to evoke abundance. Another has a cogwheel and hammer worked into his hair, representing the material that made Middlesbrough famous: iron. Carved in the 1860s for the lintels of the Royal Exchange building, the sculptures were originally functional. Now, in the redeveloped Exchange Square, they have been given pride of place - silent emblems of Middlesbrough’s identity, having supported both openings and the spirit of the town.

A keystone has to be strong, and Victorian carvers often made theirs as solid, stately, bearded men: stability in human form. But Middlesbrough went further than reliability. It paired the heads with symbols like wheat and iron - the very things the young town depended on, the strengths that kept everything together.

Middlesbrough’s motto is Erimus, Latin for "we shall be." The blue lion on the later coat of arms came from the Bruce family, the medieval lords who once held this land. Their motto was Fuimus, "we have been." The old family looked back; the young town, barely thirty years old, looked at the same ground and answered in the future tense. The wheat and the iron say it in stone. The motto says it in words. “We shall be” couldn’t be a better motto for contemporary Middlesbrough: in three words, it captures a determination to look forward and remain resilient.

These Middlesbrough heads and those Norwich bosses are doing almost the same architectural job. The one at the centre of an arch is a keystone; the one where vault ribs meet is a boss. Both are the stone that holds everything else up. In both places, the builders recognised that the stone holding everything up deserved to be celebrated - not just for its function. Norwich did it to inspire awe, six hundred years ago. Middlesbrough did it to proclaim hope on a commercial hub in the 1860s.

Now these keystones are finding their way into my own work, which is why I’ve spent so much time beneath ceilings and beside plinths, looking up and looking closely. Each boss, each carved head, is easy to overlook - until you understand that the whole structure depends on them.

People, too, can be keystones. In “Drawn to the Boro,” I’ve met ten such people who quietly support others and help hold their community’s shape, each in their own way.

Illustrations: Above: photos taken at Norwich Cathedral. Below: Sketches from 3 of the Middlesbrough keystones in Exchange Square. All photographs and sketches here are my own. Do share the newsletter, and if you'd like to use an image, just ask.