In April 2020, thousands shut down the streets and bridges of London in the most radical act of civil disobedience in a generation: calling on the British Government to radically cut fossil fuel emissions to avert runaway climate change. A vast coalition of organisations and individuals took part and added their voices to calls for progress: amid the din, the sirens and the drumming circles, one of the gentlest, most reverent of voices, was a new group called the Fellowship of the Spring, which, through the ancient act of pilgrimage, seeks to remind mankind of the frailty and vitality of water.
I documented their maiden voyage, from Tower Bridge to Westminster Abbey, as they sang, and stopped and gave offerings at scores of natural springs, aquifers, wells and tributaries that lie and course beneath the pavements and edifices of our city streets: waterways most of us are ordinarily totally oblivious to.
Humans have always held water to be sacrosanct, led pilgrimages to the sources of streams, doused themselves in holy lakes, made offerings on riverbanks or on the shores of oceans. Far from being wanton acts of blind worship: these were regular, necessary nods to a deeply-known recognition of humanity’s dependence on water and a keenly-felt gratitude for nature’s benevolence. It is only quite recently that these habits have, for most of us, been forgotten and lost, to our great detriment. It felt special to record these very contemporary pilgrims who remind us how powerful the act of noticing can be.