Created by artists Tanith Gould and Zoe Power, this mural in inspired by local stories, ideas and memories of the River Avon gathered through workshops and a public survey. It brings to life Avona, a guardian spirit of the river, adding colour and character to the Bath River Line.
The mural forms part of wider improvements to the area around Windsor Bridge, which will soon include new steps, seating, and planting to create a more welcoming space for people and wildlife.
Read Avona's story below.
Avona
Spirit of the River
It is here, beneath Windsor Bridge, that we begin our tale. Where an ancient river carves its path through our city, where mud meets concrete and echoes of stories still cling to the air. Avona, our water spirit, gently stirs beneath the ripples.
Some say her lungs are the river weeds that oxygenate her waters. Her blood, the fish who swim her stream. Her skin, the clay of her banks, and her hair, the weeping willow in her shallows.
For centuries Avona was worshipped by all who lived along her banks. In return she provided everything needed; nourishment, shelter and healing waters.
However, slowly things started to shift. People fell out of balance with the natural world and their love for Avona began to fade. Before long they had forgotten her power and ancient wisdom.
Blinded by greed, the humans extracted her waters, carved into her banks and dumped their waste into her. Despite Avona's immense power, she couldn't keep up the fight and fell into a deep sleep.
BUT she had a plan.
From her slumber, Avona whispered instructions through her river weeds. Her words were carried to the Heron, who stood silently in her shallows awaiting passing fish. As the wise community elder, the Heron gathered a council of the river animals and told them of Avona's plan.
Our weather guardian, the Kingfisher, was tasked with speaking to the sky. The sky obliged with the biggest storm the city had ever seen. Flash floods submerged cars, tarmac buckled, and lightning lit the night like daylight. Just as Avona had instructed, twelve of the strongest, fastest growing trees along the riverbank were struck. With a loud crack and a ginormous splash, they toppled directly into the water.
When the storm rolled away, a deafening stillness filled the land. Our dependable architect, the Beaver, hurried to gather the fallen trees now drifting downstream towards Putney Bridge. She began to build. For a month she cut, stacked and wove the fallen trees until one final branch completed the dam. Decades of pollution and litter became trapped within it. Avona's waters started to clear. For the first time in years, her river-weed-lungs filled with oxygen once more, and after being submerged in darkness, she finally reopened her eyes.
Her plan was almost complete.
She instructed the Otter, usually known for his illusiveness, to play openly in the daytime air. He swirled and danced through the water, leapt from neighbouring boats and tossed a ball into the air. Soon humans gathered. They had never seen an otter play so freely in broad daylight before. Word spread quickly until the whole of Bath had gathered beneath Windsor Bridge.
Then the otter dived beneath the surface and vanished.
Ripples spread across the water. A low rumble filled the air. The humans stepped back. A great mass of willow branches broke the surface, followed by a pair of large fish-like eyes.
Avona rose from the depths.
“How I came to be in this world is a little hazy these days. Sometimes a whisper of a memory tickles my river weed and I can picture a serene lake, a couple of doe eyed giants and a great journey. Other times I can hear a deep cracking of ice and rock, an intense pressure and then… life. Sometimes I wonder if I began as a single raindrop, followed by another, and another. I was here long before all of you, and will be here long after you. I carry everything within me: rain, waste, wildlife, stories, grief and things once forgotten.
You don’t remember me, my name is Avona, I am the river.
When I was young, my waters were crystal clear. Fish filled my stream, otters played in every meander, butterflies and dragonflies coloured the air and flowers flooded every bank. Now my waters are murky. Plastic bottles line my bends and many banks have been replaced with cold concrete.
I have always been here. I made this city what it is today. You use what’s left of my existence as a welcome relief from what is troubling you. But you have come to take me for granted. I am ill and I am tired. I want to move towards a better future with you all. I want to rise and fall, meander and deposit sediment wherever I choose. I want to hear more birdsong and less traffic. More otters and less sewage. More fish and less plastic.”
For a moment, the crowd stood in silence.
Then a crack echoed from upstream.
The pollution and litter trapped behind the dam had become too much to hold forever. Slowly, branches shifted and gaps appeared. Pollution escaped downstream once more.
Avona looked across the crowd.
“I cannot do this alone.”
Then she sank beneath the surface.
The river fell quiet.
Yet something had changed.
The people had seen her. They had heard her.
Some began clearing litter from the banks. Some planted trees. Some watched over the water and spoke up for its wildlife. Others simply stopped to notice the river flowing through their city.
It was a start.
Beneath the ripples, Avona smiled.
The river was not healed. Not yet.
But for the first time in a long while, she felt something stirring stronger than pollution, stronger than neglect.
Hope.
What happens next is up to all of us.
Written by Tanith Gould
