Thirst: In Search of Freshwater

The earliest account of a war for water comes from the Sumerian poem ‘Gilgamesh and Aga’ from the ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’, composed around 2100–2000 BCE. King Aga demands to enslave the subjects of King Gilgamesh of Uruk to dig wells for his city. Aga threatens to cut off Uruk’s water supply upstream on the Euphrates River if Gilgamesh refuses. A blend of historical record and mythology, the poem illustrates how important access to freshwater has been since early civilisations.

Another notable story from the Epic tells of the deluge. The universal flood, orchestrated by the five gods and intended to destroy most of humanity, is similar to the Judeo-Christian biblical story of Noah. Throughout the poem, water symbolises the cycle of life while also highlighting human vulnerability, at the mercy of nature.

This is a detailed reproduction of the ‘Gilgamesh and Aga’ tablet, created using high-resolution images captured in spring 2025 with the innovative Selene photometric stereo system and 3D photogrammetry technology.

To artist M’hammed Kilito, the oasis is the perfect model of sustainability. Date palms, with their parasol-shaped foliage, create a humid microclimate and retain water in soil. This offers an ecological defence against desertification and a refuge for biodiversity. ‘Before it’s gone’ is a long-term project documenting the complex issue of oasis degradation in Morocco and its impact on oases inhabitants.

Morocco has been in a drought since 2018. Parts of the Sahara did not see rain for four consecutive years, while a flash flood killed dozens in the desert town of Ouarzazate in 2024. Kilito tells stories of farmers, scientists and citizen associations fighting to preserve these islands of greenery against increasingly threatening living conditions.

Artists Raqs Media Collective have long explored the concept of thirst through time-based media, historical enquiry and philosophical reflection. This is the first of two connected interventions commissioned for this exhibition.

‘Thirst/Trishna’ transports us to the stepwells of Rajasthan and Delhi. These monumental subterranean structures were first built in the third century CE in the more arid regions of the Indian subcontinent. They ensured access to water while serving social and religious functions. The deep descent down the series of steps to the water level can be seen as a form of pilgrimage.

This installation reflects on both the absence and the unpredictable overflow of water. In several Indic languages – Sanskrit, Hindi, Bengali, Marathi and Odiya – trishna (तृष्णा) means thirst. Across South Asian philosophy, the word is associated with craving, aspiration, longing, obsession and desire. If monuments are markers of human history, watermarks on stepwells inscribe a history of thirst, carrying the memory of each step taken in search of freshwater.

This allegorical portrait shows the Sufi poet Hafez in a symbolic paradise garden admiring a youth who is the Divine personified. This setting illustrates the enduring significance of controlling water in the Persianate world (regions influenced by Persian culture, historically spanning across West, Central and South Asia).

The chahar bagh, a four-fold garden with water channels, is a design dating back to antiquity. The sight of a lush, orderly garden amid the desert offers a vision of paradise on Earth. It also showcases the ingenious water management and irrigation systems supported by qanats.

Ice-making was practised in Iran as early as 400 BCE. The tall, curved walls of yakhchal ice chambers collected water via qanat and froze it in shaded pools during winter, storing it in deep pits.

A Kangxi-period Chinese powder-blue porcelain vase was exported to Iran and adapted to make this ewer. A cylindrical internal ice container was added to chill drinks.

Inscriptions of a Shi’ite prayer suggest the ewer was used to serve cool drinks to passers-by as an act of piety and charity. This prayer commemorates the suffering of Husayn ibn Ali, grandson of the Prophet, and his 72 companions. They died having been denied access to water during the Battle of Karbala in 680.

Computational archaeologists are using machine learning to map existing qanats and uncover those that have disappeared. Using US spy-satellite imagery taken in 1971–86 during the Cold War, they can collect remote data, even in areas where on-site investigations are not feasible.

The qanat system is designed for communal use. Each dot detected in the images represents a shaft. Tracing the dots reveals the irrigation system and shows how societies and landscapes have changed over time. Over the past 40 to 50 years, water privatisation has led to the loss of qanats and their associated heritage across regions ranging from Afghanistan to Spain, Italy and Morocco.

‘Arab Fluids’ explores remnants of Sicily‘s qanats and little-known water heritage.

During Muslim rule of Sicily (827–1072 CE), an efficient and sustainable Arab hydraulic system was widely implemented using capillary irrigation. It influences Sicily’s water culture to this day.

LOTs is a collective of activists, designers and researchers. They interweave social design, art, spatial and participatory practices to revitalise marginalised material culture. 

The video documents qanats still used in citrus orchards in Scillato (Conca d’Oro), and the abandoned subterranean canals in Palermo – both integral to cultural heritage yet largely unacknowledged. It explores the remnants of this past tradition, journeying through sites and atmospheres linking Palermo’s under- and overground worlds.

In Scillato, a small number of farms still share water through the historic Sicilian-Arabic irrigation methods known as ‘gebbie and saie’ (reservoirs and canals), with its ethos of collective management.

In collaboration with the local community, LOTs tells the story of Scillato to deconstruct the dominant narrative on water in Sicily. This village and its surroundings are abundant in hydro resources. But its springs, streams and rivers don’t serve the villagers. They feed the overground aqueduct constructed in the 19th century that remains as one of the main water suppliers for the city of Palermo.

A bummolo is a vessel of Arab origin unique to Sicily. It is a sealed jug with a hole at the base, through which liquid is poured. The hole extends inside the container like a bottle neck; once filled, the bummolo is turned upside down without spilling a drop. This design helps protect its contents from external pollutants. The pointed tip and the terracotta material keep water cool and sanitary under the scorching sun.

Still used in Sicilian households today, the bummolos reflect the cross-cultural influences and historical roots of Sicily’s water systems and heritage.

Wadis are river valleys that remain dry throughout most of the year. Water runs through the riverbeds only when heavy seasonal rains fall.

Ein Aouja is among the largest springs in eastern West Bank, near Jericho. Adam Rouhana took this photograph after the arrival of seasonal rains in late summer 2022. He captured the stream as a gathering place for people to enjoy this gift of nature, even under surveillance and threat. By the time he returned in 2024, this cherished scene had vanished.

To the Palestinian American photographer, the innate joy of being with water is the greatest form of resistance.

“We’re so used to seeing Palestinian death,” says Rouhana. “I want to show Palestinian life.”

Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula saw unusual, sustained rainfall during the pandemic, after decades-long drought. Local wormwood, Artemisia judaica, flourished and was found to treat the symptoms of the Covid variant Omicron. This reflected the local belief that for every disease that emerges, nature will offer a cure.

Artist and wildcrafter Lora Aziz champions traditional plant knowledge and environmental equality. Through herbal art, foraging and plant medicine, Aziz aims to rekindle a sense of wonder for the planet.

In St Catherine, Bedouin youth inherit deep knowledge of their land, passed down through generations. Aziz introduced them to biomimicry (design inspired by nature), ethnobotany (how people and plants interact) and citizen science (public involvement in scientific research). The young participants discovered new pathways for creative expression and documentation, and agency in preserving their natural heritage.

Please open the glass jars to smell the herbs. You can refer to the Sinai Floral Field Guide to identify the samples.

Habak (حَبَق), Mentha longifolia, horse mint
Used in teas; aromatic mint that is becoming scarce in the region.

Al Rabel (الرَّبِل), Pulicaria incisa, wild mountain tea, undulate fleabane
Used medicinally for colds and body aches; also prepared as a tea.

Al Bathara’an (البثرآن), Artemisia judaica, Judean wormwood
Sharp-smelling herb used for colic, fevers and as an insect repellent. Commonly confused with Artemisia herba-alba (white wormwood).

Marmariyet el jabal (مرمية الجبل ), Salvia multicaulis, mountain sage
Grows in rocky, high-altitude areas. Used traditionally in tea for calming effects, stomach issues and colds.

This field guide records the diverse and bountiful medicinal plants native to South Sinai. It is a collaboration between the elders of the Jebeleya tribe, the indigenous Bedouin community in St Catherine, and Rehab Eldalil, a fifth-generation diaspora photographer. The guide is founded on their extensive knowledge and memories of the land.

Eldalil engaged local young people in using the field guide to explore the natural ecology of Wadi Gharba, to learn and practise how to use the land’s harvest. By combining ancestral wisdom and modern tools and methodologies, the young Bedouins could preserve their traditions while embracing their contemporary identity.

The UK, though not statistically the rainiest place on Earth, is often portrayed as a country of consistent drizzle and overcast skies.

This cartoon makes the connection between weather conditions and mental health. A man finds it hard to cultivate a “cheerful frame of mind”, alone in the country in the driving rain. George du Maurier drew it more than a century before seasonal affective disorder (SAD) was formally recognised. SAD is a type of depression triggered by seasonal changes.

The first comprehensive rainfall atlas for the UK was published in 1920, providing detailed maps of rainfall distribution across different regions.

The UK’s weather is influenced by six air masses, each carrying temperature and moisture from its origin. When these air masses clash, it causes sudden weather shifts. The Atlantic Ocean sends moist air, which condenses into clouds and rain, particularly in regions like the Lake District and Wales. The UK’s small landmass amplifies the effects of varying air masses, creating microclimates.

Climate change is shifting rain patterns, causing more extreme and unpredictable weather, including heavier rainfall and storms. It is estimated that climate change has increased total rainfall in the UK by about 15 per cent.

Nineteenth-century British colonial rulers in India prioritised water-intensive cash crop production, such as cotton and indigo. Monsoon failures and drought in India during 1876 and 1877 devastated global trade. This prompted the colonial authorities to introduce meteorological studies to understand weather patterns and maximise their profits.

Monsoons are seasonal wind patterns that bring significant changes in weather, particularly rainfall. The southwest monsoon, influenced by the Indian Ocean and the Himalayas, accounts for 70–80 per cent of India’s annual rainfall. But the warming ocean is changing these patterns. Unpredictable weather, including more frequent dry spells and intense wet periods, challenges water management and biodiversity. Disruptions in one region can ripple across ecosystems and societies worldwide.

Photographer, filmmaker and activist Gideon Mendel documents overwhelming climate events around the world, focusing here on flooding. Challenging mainstream journalistic representations of natural disasters, this five-channel video installation is the culmination of nearly two decades of work.

The film reveals the dystopian aftermath of flooding, following individuals as they return to their submerged homes. Showing people from diverse backgrounds side by side, he reveals their shared vulnerability. Pausing in the liquid landscape that surrounds them, they face the camera with dignity and resilience, inviting us to engage with their experience.

This installation explores the interconnected issues facing Nepal, a country susceptible to seismic activity and erratic rainfall. Global warming melts glaciers, causing flooding. These factors are complicated by industrial pollution, state corruption and social stratification. Infectious disease is rife and leads to the displacement of both human and nonhuman inhabitants. Dengue outbreaks surged tenfold in the last 20 years; the worst outbreak in 2022 saw 55,000 cases and 88 deaths.

Artist Karan Shrestha explores the entanglements of place and memory. His work alludes to the oral stories, songs and mythologies from across the Himalayan region that honour what the artist describes as “hydrological continuity”. In these accounts, water transcends being reduced to a resource for human gain. Instead, it is revered as a life-offering force, which must be shared among all beings.

Exchanges with Wellcome-funded public health initiatives World Mosquito Program and DHIS 2 contributed to Shrestha’s ongoing research on the state of water in Nepal, such as understanding the crucial role Aedes aegypti plays.

Aedes aegypti is highly adaptive to human bodies and city life, transmitting multiple diseases, including dengue. Severe dengue can lead to organ impairment and death. Prevention and water management remain key to mitigate dengue outbreaks due to the lack of specific treatment.

A J E Terzi produced detailed and precise depictions of the mosquito for the newly opened London School of Tropical Medicine (est. 1899), contributing to the study of epidemics and parasites.

Pick up a pair of headphones and be transported to the glacial fields of Ladakh in the Himalayan Range, the Athabasca Glacier in the Canadian Rockies, the Devon Ice Cap in Nunavut, meltwater streams in Norway and the fiords of Svalbard.

The crackling and fracturing sounds of ice melting are not just a record of receding glaciers. They are also a testimonial to the changing nature of freshwater ice around the world. With these changes come drastic upheaval for the communities who inhabit glacial landscapes. The recordings are at once glaciological data and a record of daily life, capturing the poignant beauty found in loss and resilience.

Ancient air bubbles trapped in glaciers hold evidence of increased greenhouse gas emissions and global warming. As glaciers melt and ice sheets retreat, we lose crucial information about Earth’s climate history.

Researcher Susan Schuppli gathers sonic material from glaciologists, environmentalists and communities.

Ice is now melting quicker than annual accumulations of snow and ice. In addition to being an archive of the past, these field recordings also carry information about the current environmental conditions in which they were recorded since moisture content, air pressure and temperature combine to affect the propagation of sound waves.

In the Himalayas, extreme water scarcity has forced mountain villagers to abandon their remote communities, taking with them valuable environmental knowledge and practices. 'Singing Ice' contains a selection of Ladakhi folksongs preserved by singer Morup Namgyal, who is determined to keep this oral tradition alive. Born out of a project by Schuppli, a small team of Indian scientists, and activists and grassroots organisation Local Futures, the book is intended to educate the next generations about the environmental histories of Ladakh recorded in its poetry and rhythms.

The opening pages show ‘The Pearls in the White Snow’, a song sung by Namgyal in track 11, playing in the ‘Ice Records Listening Room’. 

These drawings illustrate how Rome's first temple, erected in 560 BCE, was strategically placed to be safe from floods and visible from the river. Its placement reflects a keen awareness of the Tiber’s flood behaviours at that time.

As the Romans began building on a monumental scale, intensive deforestation upriver led to rapid silting of its river valley. By the late sixth century, Romans abandoned their first harbour temple, constructing a five-metre-high platform to support two new temples, safe from increased flood levels.

The map to the right indicates the location of the boreholes where the three core samples on display were excavated. They show three distinct phases of the Tiber Valley’s transformation.

The top core contains sandy, loose sediments from 18 metres below the modern street level. This was deposited in or near the Tiber’s active river channel in the second millennium BCE.

The middle core represents a period of transformation in the sixth century BCE, when the area rapidly silted up during a series of floods. This made the ground level of Rome’s central riverbank and its river island both higher and wider. The fine-grained sediments are characteristic of floodplain landscapes.

The bottom sample reflects a later period, when Rome’s central riverbank was heavily urbanised. What look like flecks of chalk are mortar fragments. These allow us to date it to after the invention of concrete that sets in contact with water, in the mid-second century BCE.

Roman water systems also improved people’s health, as street cleaning, waste disposal and freshwater supplies were established. Lead water pipes (fistulae), often inscribed with patrons’ names, supplied the homes of Rome’s wealthy citizens. The adverse effects of lead toxicity were not yet known. Cheaper terracotta pipes were used in towns and cities and could be readily repaired.

Drain covers allowed rainwater to flow into water pipes while stopping blockages from mud and rocks. They also prevented people getting their feet stuck in drains on Rome’s busy streets. Like pipes, they also come in humble and lavish variations, benefiting all of the city’s inhabitants, rich and poor.

Water-purification techniques can be traced back to 13th-century BCE Egypt. By the Fatimid Period (909–1171 CE), the qullah – an earthenware water jug – was commonly used for storing, cooling and filtering drinking water. Circular ceramic grilles between the body and neck keep out insects and contaminants. The grilles’ intricate clay lacework was a key artistic element, emphasising the value of clean water.

Artisans decorated the grilles with geometric patterns, calligraphy and depictions of animals. Inscriptions offered wisdom to those who drank from the qullah, such as this example, which advises “abstain and heal”, combining function with symbolic meaning.

By the early 19th century, London’s population had increased by 60 per cent, and the Thames was heavily contaminated with industrial waste, sewage and refuse.

This cartoon was made in 1828, the year a Commission on the London Water Supply was appointed to investigate this situation. Following their report, the water companies which served the city north of the river improved their supplies by building reservoirs. But the people of Southwark continued to receive untreated water for another six years.

London saw four major cholera outbreaks, in 1831–2, 1848–9, 1854 and 1865–6. These came to be known as the “cholera years”. The disease spread indiscriminately, causing degrading symptoms (diarrhoea and vomiting) and high level of mortality.

The bacteria that cause cholera breed in contaminated water. But the disease was blamed on ‘miasmas’ (bad air) until physician John Snow investigated the 1854 outbreak. He revealed that the source was a Soho pump – the ‘ghost’ in this image. His discovery would transform the understanding of the role of germs in disease transmission.

London’s last cholera outbreak occurred in 1866. It affected areas with poor sanitation, primarily in the East End of the city. Snow's findings influenced how subsequent cholera incidents were handled, based on the principle that cholera was waterborne.

Mapping helped identify infection hotspots and contaminated water sources. This enabled targeted sanitation interventions, improving water supply and reducing spread. Having begun in the summer, the outbreak had already subsided by the autumn.

Cholera outbreaks catalysed major improvements in London’s water system. The city's present sewerage system was installed in the 1860s by the Metropolitan Board of Works and its engineer Joseph Bazalgette.

Arthur Hill Hassall's detailed studies identified disease-causing microorganisms in mid-19th-century London water. His findings shifted public opinion about the importance of water quality for health. Viewing water under a microscope even became a popular entertainment in Victorian London. His work also paved the way for modern microbiology and public health reforms in urban water management.

Charcoal inside Lipscombe & Company's filters absorbed bacteria from water, making it safer to drink. This product was one of the first practical applications of carbon filtration in urban settings. It influenced later developments in water-treatment technology.

The ‘Soloid’ is a brand of portable water-testing kit manufactured by Burroughs Wellcome & Co. for on-site chemical examination of water quality. It was designed to be used by people with minimal analytical training, especially in field environments.

Colonising forces needed access to clean water but lacked local knowledge about reliable sources. The kit on display was used at the Wukari water hole in Nigeria in 1908. The test follows British colonisation of the Wukari state, incorporating it into the Northern Nigeria Protectorate in the early 1900s.

Lebanon is a water-rich country but its capital, Beirut, has seen its public water infrastructure destroyed by prolonged unrest and governmental neglect. Tap water is contaminated. Citizens have no choice but to pay for privatised rooftop water tanks.

Lebanese artist Dala Nasser considers materials as witness. She collected tap water from all 60 sectors of Beirut, mixing equal parts dye and rock salt to each sample. She then dipped pieces of fabric mixed with latex into them. The resulting rash-like textures reflect different levels of acidity and salinity in the samples.

Coincidentally, the bottom of this tapestry was soaked by floodwater, a main source of water-pipe pollution, on the day civil protests against government corruption began in 2019.

The Ma’dan people have been living in mudhiefs, reed houses on floating islands of reed and papyrus, for at least 7,000 years. The traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) and ancient innovation used to construct them is passed down through generations. Mudhiefs are portable and can be moved and re-erected in less than a day when water levels change. With proper care, they can last for 25 years.

Key to Ma’dan identity is the marshland’s Mesopotamian history (derived from the Greek for “land between rivers”). This cylinder seal features mudhiefs and women making reed bundles, evidence of this ecological technology’s millennia-long tradition.

The design of the Wastewater Garden references the rich visual culture and history of Mesopotamia and Islamic traditions, especially the paradise garden (chahar bagh). Its planting layout is inspired by the intricate patterns and symbols embroidered on Mesopotamian wedding blankets. This tradition is upheld by the women’s weaving cooperative, where the essence of nature, biological diversity, and ancestral spirit are woven into the textile art.

The site includes shade structures and viewing towers built using regenerative reed architecture and thermally stable earthen bricks. These are designed for local businesses to sell crafts, produce and food, fostering community engagement and economic opportunity.

“My first trips to Iraq, I was searching for the colours of Eden. When you’re in the marsh area, except for the reeds… there is only earthen brown. But when you enter homes, the colours are there… Amethyst is the colour of the room but also a colour of Eden.” – Meridel Rubenstein

The border of this print features images of flora mentioned in the Qur’an, from the Royal Botanic Garden in Jordan, where 23,000 endangered wild plants are preserved.

In collaboration with the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, the Wastewater Garden will include plants and fruit trees resilient to the local climate while reflecting Mesopotamian, biblical and Qur’anic herbal symbolism.

Spanning some 20,000 square kilometres when seasonally flooded, the Marshes of southern Iraq are a complex tapestry of waterways, rivers and reedbeds. Islands form where the Tigris and Euphrates rivers meet and empty into the Gulf. Fishing, buffalo herding, rice cultivation and reed harvesting are the mainstays of the Marsh Arabs.

This photo was taken in 1975, before the Iran-Iraq war (1980–88) and Saddam Hussein’s oppressive Ba’athe regime (1979–2003). It shows the Ma’dan villages (al tahla), comprised of more than 1,200 anchored, human-made islands and free-floating, natural islands on which the Ma’dan people live.

In 1992, Saddam Hussein’s regime drained the Iraq Marshes, both to repress the local population and fleeing dissidents, and facilitate oil and agricultural development. They razed villages and dried up over 90 per cent of the wetlands. The impact on the Ma’dan and other Marsh dwellers was devastating, with the loss of almost half a million people.

After the regime fell in 2003, local initiatives helped to partially re-flood the Marshes. Deep reed patches returned, and Marsh culture has endured, although much reduced in size.

The Marshes are still vulnerable. Risk factors include the construction of a hydropower dam upstream in Turkey and climate change.

Boats are the primary mode of transport in the Marshes. In Meridel Rubenstein’s video, we travel onboard with indigenous water activist and engineer Jassim Al-Asad.

Here, the Marsh Arabs sing and gather Typha and Phragmites reeds. Water buffaloes live closely alongside their breeders in environmental harmony. Meanwhile, white snail shells and bullet casings amidst charred reeds mark where the Marshes have been transformed into a scorched desert landscape.

The construction site of the Wastewater Garden stands as the sole green expanse within a marshland that is turning to desert under extreme heat and drought.

Wetlands, aptly termed “the kidneys of the planet”, have a remarkable ability to remove pollutants from water. Marshes offer freshwater supply, flood protection and groundwater recharge. They play a crucial role in climate change mitigation by reflecting solar radiation and absorbing carbon dioxide, creating a localised cooling effect.

The garden demonstrates the power of traditional ecological knowledge and how nature-based, climate-resilient infrastructure might help us face the environmental challenges of our time.

This installation focuses on the Johor Straits, a narrow waterway between Singapore and Malaysia, exploring ecological and cultural dynamics shaped by rising sea levels and human intervention. It highlights human and non-human interactions in its freshwater, brackish and marine ecologies of coastal habitats.

By navigating the digital interactive map (left), you can trace the impacts of colonial infrastructure, urbanisation and industrialisation on ecological health and the coastal environment. The short film ‘Where Water Ends’ playing on the adjacent screen examines these relationships through the histories and everyday encounters of indigenous Orang Seletar, and archival materials. This installation invites us to rethink coexistence in a world where water-related challenges shape multispecies survival and environmental possibilities.

It took Adib Dada seven years of activism before forest planting could begin. These publications were part of his campaign to reclaim the Beirut River. Dada also led tours and engaged communities, turning the idea of renaturalisation into tangible action. Emphasising ecology over economy, he challenged city planners to create conditions that support environmental recovery.

In 2020, Dada collaborated with local schools affected by a massive explosion in Beirut’s port. Students helped to build 1,500 square metres of playgrounds and sensory gardens, incorporating nature education into urban settings. Planting trees may not seem like a political act, but when individuals restore their surroundings, it can revive both agency and imagination. Amid political and economic challenges, communities are reclaiming, cleaning and rebuilding the river.

This video chronicles the journey of Beirut’s RiverLESS Forest, beginning with its first planting in May 2019. Since then, the project has established over 5,150 trees using the Miyawaki Method. This innovative approach involves densely planting native species to mimic natural forest growth. It creates self-sustaining, biodiverse ecosystems in a short period – often within three years – by nurturing plants in closely spaced clusters for mutual support and accelerated growth. This method is championed by the project’s London-based collaborators, SUGi.

“Let’s enable the native plants, birds, insects and fungi to reclaim their rightful place in the city alongside their human neighbours.” – Adib Dada

These woven prayer belts were part of a ceremonial ritual conducted at the source of the Beirut River on 1 May 2024 by Azul Thomé and Adib Dada. In Thomé’s practice of sacred activism, individual fragile threads are woven into a strong braid that represents the power of connection between individuals, communities and the natural world.

Within a landscape and society marked by war in the region, the prayer belts also reflect the intertwined fate of the river and the souls of Beirut’s people. The ceremony symbolised and celebrated the resilience and renewal of the reforestation work.

Artist Chloe Dewe Mathews grew up just steps away from the Thames. Over five years she has photographed the river from its source in the Cotswolds to the estuary mouth in Southend.

From lush countryside to tidal cityscapes, her work captures daily routines and annual rites along the river, from African Pentecostal baptisms to Pagan rituals. The images echo the timeless spiritual connections with the Thames and reflect the diverse communities that live along its flow.

“…the River Thames is many things to many people: we project meaning onto it… the river has no definitive identity but rather a multitude of guises, with the capacity to ebb and shift its identity even as it flows downstream.” – Chloe Dewe Mathews

The Life-Giving Spring (depicted in the painting nearby) is located in Istanbul’s Monastery of the Mother of God at the Spring. Many believe in its healing properties and it is still frequented by Orthodox Christians, pilgrims and visitors today. This bottle was collected by academic Nur Sobers-Khan in 2024 as part of her ongoing research into shrines across the world.

This painting shows a spring in Istanbul acclaimed for its healing powers. According to Eastern Orthodox Christian tradition, on 4 April 450, the Virgin Mary spoke to a soldier searching for water for a blind man. Calling him ‘emperor’, she instructed: “Go into the deepest part of the woods, and you will find water there. Take some of the cloudy water in your hands and give it to the blind man to drink… Then you shall know who I am.” The blind man recovered his eyesight, and the soldier later became the Byzantine Emperor Leo I. A monastery was later built on the site of the spring.

Springs and rivers are sites of worship, protection and healing in many different traditions throughout the world. People often collect and bring home water, both for its perceived medicinal properties and as a memento of their journey to the source.

In Europe, mineral water from spiritually significant sites has been bottled and sold as a restorative since the early 1600s. Water from spa towns in the UK was marketed as a remedy for ailments such as eczema, gout and sciatica.

This display features water collected at various sources, from the River Jordan at the site of the baptism of Christ to that from Zamzam well in Mecca bought online. It highlights the shared cultural significance of healing waters and illustrates their continuing influence on modern wellness practices.

Travellers from various cultures have transported healing water in pilgrim bottles. The design of these vessels combines practical function with symbolic meaning.

Leather water flasks (matara) were used by elite members of Ottoman society to bring home water from Zamzam, the sacred well in Mecca that symbolises divine sustenance in Islam. The brass cup depicts the Hindu god Krishna as an infant being carried to safety across the River Yamuna, a tributary of the sacred Ganges, commemorating the Hindu myth of Krishna's survival and reflecting universal themes of protection and divine intervention.

The French saint Gangulphus is shown here striking the ground with his staff, bringing forth a miraculous spring. According to Christian legends, he miraculously moved this water source to the grounds of his home from a property he had bought miles away. Suspecting his wife’s infidelity, he instructed her to put her hand into the spring. It scalded her, revealing her guilt. She and her lover then murdered Gangulphus. Following his death in 760, he was venerated across Europe as a “well saint”. He became associated with the practice of divination, with people seeking his help to find hidden water sources.

Pierre Le Lorrain’s 1709 book ‘Occult Physics, or Treatise on the divining rod’ reflects the integration of occult practices with scientific investigation in the 17th and 18th centuries. Dowsing involves holding two rods or a forked stick (known as a dowsing or divining rod) believed to move spontaneously when passed over a hidden water source, minerals or treasure. This book served as a guide for practitioners and the curious alike, offering theories about the physics behind dowsing and instructions on the use of the rods.

Dowsing has been passed down through generations. Dowsing rods are still used today by some communities who live and work closely with the land across Europe.

Mary Woolaston was believed to be a 17th-century Black woman keeper of a healing well in King’s Cross known as ‘Black Mary’s Hole’. This video features lead artist Gaylene Gould, producer Zaynab Bunsie, citizen historian Emanuela Aru and the well-keepers of Calthorpe Community Garden, who are exploring Woolaston’s legacy.

Over three years, they have collaborated with Black women artists and the local community in King’s Cross, taking inspiration from Woolaston to envision how a healing well might function in London today. An annual programme of events launches in summer 2025, including a permanent statue imagining Mary Woolaston by sculptor Marcia Bennett Male, to be placed in Calthorpe's sunken garden.

In the 17th and 18th centuries, King’s Cross and St Pancras were famed for their healing wells, which were believed to have medicinal properties. Londoners came seeking relief from ailments such as digestive disorders and skin conditions. Spas and hydrotherapy were growing popular across Europe. People gathered to drink the purportedly curative waters and socialise. Small businesses sprang up around prominent wells like St Chad’s Well in St Pancras, selling water and offering relaxation spaces.

By the 19th century, the popularity of these wells waned due to medical advancements and urbanisation.

This archival record documents ‘Black Mary’s Hole’, a mineral spring managed by Mary Woolaston, a woman described here as of “black complexion”, who earned her livelihood as a well-keeper and water healer in the late 17th century. Community member Emanuela Aru managed to pinpoint the location with the help of Historic England.

While wells are visible, the well-keepers often remain unseen. Woolaston’s life and experience can just be glimpsed in archival fragments like this one. Historical records have generally ignored or erased working-class Black lives in Britain. This discovery prompts us to recognise the integral but often overlooked role of working Black women in London’s urban history.

“Water wells were the place from which the community drew their resource. Wells also symbolised the subconscious mind, the unexplored psyche. In dreams, the state of the water is a signal to our emotional states.”

Artist Gaylene Gould envisages Woolaston’s interior dreamworld, weaving symbols and stories about water from members of Calthorpe Community Garden together with images depicting Woolaston’s imagined past, present and future.

The digital collage on velvet is a curtain for Woolaston’s house, intentionally bringing glamour into the domestic life of a working woman. The night-sky background includes stars and heart shapes used on beauty patches popular in the 1600s. Branches connect the artwork back to the garden.

Tube wells bore between 1.5 to 300 metres underground to access aquifers. This drawing illustrates an artesian tube well beneath the Wellcome Collection building in the 1930s. Tube well technology was developed during the American Civil War, due to concerns about deliberately poisoned surface water. Swiftly adapted for civilian use, it arrived in the UK by 1867 and became pivotal in water management internationally through colonial expansion. Driven by engines, they allowed water extraction for consumption, agriculture, or distribution to growing cities.

In 1868, the tube well – then a brand-new technology – was used by British-led forces for a large-scale military expedition in Abyssinia (now Ethiopia and Eritea). It was led by the Corps of Royal Engineers to move thousands of soldiers and animals across the arid region, and stirred scandals internationally.

Engravings from an 1868 Illustrated London News show tube wells being tested by a large group of engineers in Surrey before the expedition. They were subsequently used to provide water for 7,000 transport animals in Koomaylee, Abyssinia. Precious stones were said to be found and looted in the process of digging these wells.

This compilation of patent drawings and licences traces the tube well’s global journey. It begins in 1865 with Byron Mudge’s patent for an “Improved Method of Sinking Wells” in Cortlandville, New York, designed for both domestic and military use. The technology gained international prominence with James Lee Norton’s London patent in 1867, merging Mudge’s method with his own pumping machinery.

These documents highlight the tube well’s evolving uses, supporting agricultural innovations worldwide. Today over half of all agriculture is irrigated by water extracted in this way.

This view of Jakarta, seen from the bay, visualises the city’s relationship to its multi-layered aquifer. Groundwater overextraction, paired with sea-level rise, has put Jakarta in a perilous situation. The city is rapidly sinking, and saltwater is infiltrating its freshwater reserves. The weight of large towers built along the city’s main roads is speeding up the rate of subsidence.

This image of the New Delhi metropolitan region shows the vastness of its aquifer in relation to its urban form. The drawing highlights the drastic difference in the depth of the water table in the area. This makes underground water extraction a much more expensive endeavour along the western areas of the metropolitan region. The water table is much shallower along the eastern edge, which allows easier access to this resource.

The Phoenix-Tucson mega-region’s urban sprawl dominates its ancient aquifer. This drawing highlights the thousands of tube wells that extract water faster than it can be replenished. It demonstrates the impact of the water-extraction technologies that support agriculture and urban lifestyles.

In the centre of this space are three upside-down models of the layers of rock or sediment found beneath the Earth’s surface in three locations. The tube wells and their impact on respective water tables are indicated.

They visualise the long-term effects of water overdraft in the cities of Jakarta and New Delhi, and the Phoenix-Tucson mega-region. While Phoenix-Tucson’s population is much less dense than the two others, in all three regions the depleted aquifers are causing major subsidence. The compacting of dry soil causes the gradual sinking of urban areas and the emergence of sink holes and kilometre-long fissures appearing across the Earth’s surface. Jakarta is the fastest-sinking city in the world.

If the Earth ran out of freshwater, where could we search for it?

The second reflection by Raqs Media Collective on thirst is an interactive augmented-reality installation. It opens up a speculative future in which human survival depends on the search for and the mining of water from asteroids.

The artists’ virtual imagining of water mining in space is superimposed over the space containing Anthony Acciavatti’s inverted models of Earth’s strata. The digital overlay draws attention to the extractivist approach shared by asteroid water-mining and the tube well, and creates an as yet impossible reality. 

Viewed through the iPad screen, water-rich asteroids orbit in patterns, like drops converging into an infinite cosmic ocean. Larger asteroids morph into a form reminiscent of a stepwell, connecting the search for water and the source itself.