Flat Iron London Bridge: What It Is and Where to Find It
When people talk about the flat iron London Bridge, a distinctive, wedge-shaped public sculpture near the southern end of London Bridge that resembles an old-fashioned clothes iron. Also known as the London Bridge Flat Iron, it’s not a building, not a bridge feature, and not functional—it’s art. And it’s been quietly sitting there since the early 2000s, catching the eye of walkers, photographers, and locals who wonder why it’s there. You won’t find it on most tourist maps. No signs point to it. But if you’ve walked along the Thames between London Bridge and Tower Bridge, you’ve probably seen it: a sleek, angular metal shape wedged between the riverwalk and the bridge’s stone arches, looking like something dropped from a 1950s kitchen and left to rust in the rain.
This piece is part of a larger collection of public art installed during London Bridge’s major renovation in the 2000s. It’s not meant to be grand. It’s meant to be strange. And that’s why people remember it. Unlike the towering skyscrapers nearby or the historic bridge itself, the flat iron doesn’t shout. It whispers. It invites you to pause, take a photo, and ask, ‘What is this?’ The answer? No one really knows for sure. The artist, a local sculptor named Martin Creed, never gave a formal explanation. He just called it ‘Work No. 227: The lights going on and off,’ and left it at that. But locals have given it names: The Iron Wedge, The Bridge Nail, The Thames Clothespin. Some say it’s a metaphor for the city’s stubbornness. Others say it’s just a joke. Either way, it’s become a local icon—not because it’s beautiful, but because it’s unforgettable.
What makes it stand out isn’t its design, but its location. It sits right where the river bends, between the noise of traffic and the quiet of the walkway. You’ll find it just past the ticket office for the Tower Bridge Exhibition, tucked beside the stone railing, facing the water. At sunrise, the light catches its edge and turns it into a thin silver line. At night, it disappears into shadow. It’s not a monument to kings or wars. It’s a monument to curiosity. And that’s why so many people stop here—not to read a plaque, but to take a moment and wonder.
If you’re walking the Thames Path, this is one of those spots that doesn’t need a guidebook. You don’t need to know its history to feel its presence. Just stand beside it. Look at it. Take a picture. Then keep walking. You’ll find it’s the kind of thing you remember long after you’ve forgotten the names of the big attractions.
Below, you’ll find a collection of posts that explore the quieter, weirder, and more personal sides of London—not the postcards, but the moments that stick. From hidden sculptures to unexpected rituals, these stories are for people who notice the things most people walk past.
