I was fortunate enough last summer to visit the Natural History Museum, while a temporary exhibition by Jana Winderen and Tony Myatt titled the The River was installed in the Jerwood Gallery. It was billed as being a mesmerising journey into the hidden acoustics of the River Thames. Not being a fish, I thought I would check it out and experience this unusual offering. Running from July 2024 to January 2025, this ambisonic soundscape plunged visitors deep into underwater habitats, revealing a world of bubbling gas, stridulating insects, fish grunts, crustaceans, and even distant human activity. The installation filled the dimly lit gallery with an enveloping 360° audio field. Seating areas invited listeners to fully relax into the sounds washing over them – on my visit a number of visitors were relaxing or even snoozing in this space.
The River also took listeners on a dynamic sonic journey, starting from the Thames’s clear source near Kemble where you could hear the subtle crackle of gas bubbles, travelling through rural soundscapes, London’s industrial din, and out to the bustling estuary where you entered the North Sea. Winderen and Myatt don’t just present underwater life, they invited reflection on ecological interconnectivity and noise pollution. The natural chorus of insect chirps, plant photosynthesis (yes, you can hear it!), and fish vocalisations are interwoven with the intrusive hums of boats and aircraft. It’s a poetic reminder: aquatic ecosystems have evolved intricate sound-based communication that is now increasingly overshadowed by human noise. We often think about light pollution and our reduced ability to see the night sky but sound pollution in rivers and estuaries is often overlooked, as they are out of sight and out of mind.
Recordings were captured over a year using hydrophones deployed from riverbanks and boats, with meticulous attention to capturing both structure and serendipity revealing, for example, underwater insects and cod grunts. In conversation, Winderen emphasises listening first, she responds to the sound-world rather than hunting for specific species. This practice creates an authentic yet artfully arranged sonic narrative. This installation invites us to shift our perspective, to slow down and engage by listening deeply. It makes audible the hidden layers of an iconic river and spotlights how everyday anthropogenic noise encroaches on wildlife communication. It’s an experiential bridge between art, ecological science, and conservation awareness. It is very clear that some fellow visitors found this deeply relaxing while contemplating exactly what it was they were listening to.
This worked as a profound, meditative, and subtle work that succeeded in transforming ordinary gallery space into an underwater observatory. The marriage of rich field recordings, spatial audio design and ecological narrative invited visitors to not just hear, but to feel and reconsider, the soundscapes that lie beneath the surface. Whether you’re drawn to environmental issues, experimental sound art, or simply curious, this installation was a gently compelling experience. I wonder if the museum plans on any similar ones in the future, as I think this was the first of it’s kind within the Natural History Museum.
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