Dark Temese

- Swim with your mouth shut

‘While following the path of shiny, slippery bladderwrack strewn across the concrete jetty, I take care not to trip. In the distance, out in the estuary, I hear foghorns and the rhythmic turning of heavy ship engines.
The jetty has eroded, revealing a gaping hole that stares back at me. It appears the sewage now enters the water much closer to the beach than intended.
Absurdly, I find myself drawn to these brutal formations. They conceal the emergency storm overflows and their sinister functions while stretching out towards the river’s mouth. When the tide creeps in, slowly swallowing these totem-like structures, their existence would go unnoticed unless I carefully observed the curious lines and shapes formed on the water's surface.’

These photographs help me translate my experiences into something tangible, a process dictated by tidal times, seasons, and the weather. As an avid open-water swimmer, I sought to understand the health of the waters for both humans and the broader ecosystem. This journey led me to uncover the extensive issues beyond raw sewage dumping, including pollution and biodiversity loss, which have plagued this estuary and its salt marshes for centuries due to industrialisation, population growth, and (environmental??) mismanagement.
Remarkably, in the 1950s parts of the river were declared biologically dead, unable to sustain any wildlife. By the 1970s, the Thames had earned the unfortunate nickname, the "open sewer”. The ongoing construction of the Thames Tideway Tunnel is expected to improve water quality, particularly around London. However, numerous environmental factors continue to threaten both wildlife and human health in the Tidal Thames. Climate change-induced alterations in water temperature, chemical pollutants, land management practices, the pervasive presence of plastics, and their entry into the food chain are all consequences of human activity.
Alarmingly high levels of toxic metals such as anthropogenic silver, lead, cadmium, and arsenic continue to be detected in coastal and estuarine sediments. These primarily originate from sewage sludge, effluent discharges, mining, smelting, industrial waste and, ironically, photographic sources and landfills. The notion of placing landfill sites next to waterways, like those at Two Tree Island, Leigh-on-Sea, Pitsea, and Tilbury, now reveals itself as a disastrous decision. These toxic time bombs, through flooding and erosion, are leaching into the Thames. This is not an isolated issue; there are over a thousand such sites across the country.
Consider Seagrass as one example. It is one of our greatest assets in the fight against climate change, yet poor water quality is turning it into a source of carbon emissions. This alarming fact, highlighted by the Blue Marine Foundation’s report, should prompt regulators and industry to address the water quality crisis in our seas. Seagrass beds, when in good condition, are extraordinary nursery habitats for juvenile fish. However, poor water quality from livestock waste, sewage discharges, and excess fertiliser use damages these essential services seagrass provides. Our government cannot afford to ignore this urgent issue of fisheries and food security.
My darkroom and photographic practices are fundamental to this project. During my photography field trips, I collect seaweed, sea spinach, and sea purslane, which I then use to create a natural photographic developer for my black-and-white films. These rituals of using sustainable and natural materials establish a connection between the moment, place, and the final piece while avoiding the toxic legacies of the past.

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The children’s concrete pools, neatly positioned beside the emergency storm outlets, sink beneath the high tide. Local swimmers often find these submerged pontoons with their feet, using them as impromptu diving platforms. The barnacle and seaweed-covered man-made constructions have seamlessly integrated into our ecosystem, forming a familiar landscape where the sky reflects in the glistening mudflats, creating a picturesque backdrop for walking and admiring the estuary views during the ebb and flow of tides.
I explore the tension between this beautiful landscape and the harsh reality of these outlet points that regularly discharge raw sewage and road surface water into our bathing waters. The environment agency measures water quality only during the summer, despite the growing popularity of year-round activities such as swimming, kayaking, and paddle boarding. People go about their daily lives, often unaware or choosing to ignore that the awarded blue flags are unmerited and that these waters urgently need our attention and government intervention to address this toxic legacy.

Photographed at Thames Estuary; Westcliff-on-Sea, Chalkwell and Leigh-on-Sea 2021-2022.
These black and white films have been developed by a more sustainable homemade seaweed and sea beet developer. 

The plants were foraged on the shores of the locations in the photographs.