KLPA LOCKDOWN GALLERY

As part of the national bid to combat the Covid-19 epidemic, the swimming ponds on Hampstead Heath closed on 22 March 2020 and remained closed until limited reopening began in July 2020.

To maintain our sense of community, we set up an online gallery giving members the opportunity to share anything they wanted to offer as a creative response to the difficult months of fear, social distancing and isolation.

Please note that the gallery is now closed for submissions.

A hopeful message from Ruth Hallgarten, written in the sand of a Dorset beach on the last weekend before lockdown!

Illustrator Nina Dogmetchi, a swimmer for more than 30 years, says it is the thing she misses most. She offers this panoramic view of the pond produced as a hand made greetings card (more of her work can be found on Instagram: ninanou_studio).

Alessia Franchi writes: Before the Covid19 outbreak, I was completing my masters at the Slade School of Art (in sculpture). Swimming at the pond is my favourite thing to do in the world. I will cherish it even more when we are allowed back. 

In the meantime, I have been trying to make my own paper and most recently a book. I have only ever made a book once before so I was very pleased when this worked out with such little resources. 

I have attached an image of the Moon Book and its process. I thought other pond swimmers might appreciate it as it involves water to make the paper, and it requires the moon to make it magical. 

I have also attached an etching I did previously, of the pond. I thought it was relevant because it looks like a dream or memory, how it exists in our minds even if we can’t physically swim there. 

The main aim of this gallery is to allow KLPA members to share their own original work rather than reproducing works that can be found and enjoyed elsewhere. However, we will make an exception with this poem by Kitty O’Meara, suggested by Antonia Eades, which seems particularly appropriate to this time.

And People Stayed Home

And people stayed home
and read books and listened
and rested and exercised
and made art and played
and learned new ways of being
and stopped
and listened deeper
someone meditated
someone prayed
someone danced
someone met their shadow
and people began to think differently
and people healed
and in the absence of people who lived in ignorant ways,
dangerous, meaningless and heartless,
even the earth began to heal
and when the danger ended
and people found each other
grieved for the dead people
and they made new choices
and dreamed of new visions
and created new ways of life
and healed the earth completely
just as they were healed themselves.

Kitty O’Meara

An Ode to the Pond in Isolation . . .

Basking in the sun on my terrace, I close my eyes and dream of the cooling, silky, muddy waters of Hampstead Heath’s women’s pond. A secret idyll, cloaked by trees, set hidden beyond the grassy meadows, a haven from the city.  I’ve spent many days escaping the heat and sometimes stifling, noisy, nature of the city here.  As you enter through the gates reading ‘No Men Beyond This Point’, you are enclosed, the arms of the oak trees ushering you in, the surrounding wild pond left to nature, acting as a blockade to the outside world, and the babble of women’s chatter enticing you into the warm embrace of the pond’s sanctuary.   A sense of calm washes over. There’s an unspoken understanding of trust and unity here. Perhaps this is the comfort and power of the all-women tribe. One can leave a bag of belongings safely anywhere on the grassy banks, knowing that you will come back to your untouched, post swim picnic and towel.  (I’m often partial to an egg sandwich followed by an apple). As I lower one leg at a time down the supportive step ladder to the pond, the bitingly refreshing waters lick sweetly on my skin.  I’m ready. I push off into the pond and let my worries and weight drift away as the water laps over me. The minerals in the muddy water seep into my being, and as I later make my way home, the earthy pond smell enveloping me, invigorate and calm me once again.  

Currently the Covid 19 pandemic sweeps across the world, like a tsunami wave swiftly and stealthily encompassing one country then the next. As we grapple with new social distancing measures, mother nature has at least gifted us with a little spring sun.  It’s in this moment that I am longing for the freedom to idly glide, in no particular speed or time restraint through the pond’s delicious, distant waters. One hour of exercise a day is allowed in a nearby park or green space.  No stopping to chat and you must absolutely exercise with a purpose. 

Water has always been a big part of my life. A friend once asked me which element was my healer, air, earth, fire or water? ‘Water!’ was my instant reply. I feel recharged and emotionally released after a trip to a rugged and peaceful Norfolk coastline, a bathe in Kentish warm waters, a plunge in the pond or a dip in Constable’s chalk streams.  Water has been used throughout history and religion as a source of healing.  

My first wild swimming experience (before it was coined as a fashionable activity), was in the icy waters of the Lake District’s boggy tarns, its gushing streams and cascading waterfalls. On family holidays, siblings would egg each other on to brace the shock and delight of the cold water. We would make feeble attempts at dams, bathe in plunge pools, and screech in excited fear as the green, boggy plants of the tarns depths wrapped around our unsuspecting limbs. All whilst sporting silver, sparkly 90’s jelly shoes! 

Competitive swimming took its hold on me as a child too, and I swam for school competitions through to local club competitions. Friday nights were for club training, lane swimming, routine, technique and speed improvement.   Lasting memories stay with me of red, itchy, chlorine-soaked eyes, heart racing adrenaline, gasping lungs bursting with new blood capillaries reaching for more oxygen, and the shrill starting whistles of coaches, echoing around the walls of the enclosed pool, like the screeches of bats awakening in their caves.

I’m grateful for my indoor swimming training. It’s given me the freedom and privilege to explore natural waters, not from afar, but being immersed in its bodies. Last summer I swam in the clear, mineral soaked, turquoise waters of the Greek islands for the first time and it was heavenly. The sun beat down in early autumn, shimmering its rays across the calmest, welcoming and rejuvenating sea waters.  I floated and meandered with shoals of fish below my feet*, and the flash of the brightest, blue kingfisher feathers above my head, returning to the comforting touch of my partner on the pebbly shore. It is not only the idle swimming freedom of the muddy Hampstead women’s pond or the warmth of the Mediterranean Sea that I crave in times of isolation. Nor is it just the sight and sounds of the ponds, the whoosh of the kingfisher in flight, the chatter of the ducks, the slinkiness of the heron, the rustle of wind in the sheltering trees. What we’ve all come to learn in quarantine is that it’s the human touch and the social gathering of groups of people that is our soul healing.  Not only do I long for water, but for the communal babble of women and the caressing warmth of a loved one.  

* Did you know that in biology, any group of fish that stay together for social reasons are shoaling?

Written by Sarah Home, 15th April 2020

Maggie Jennings recently completed this painting of the life in and around the pond.

Sarah Saunders captured this image and writes that the pond is waiting for us!

Romance on the water . . .

Our long-term widow and her new mate Wallace are proud parents-to-be! Four weeks to the day since we brought Wallace back to Hampstead with our widow from the Swan Sanctuary, I have found three beautiful eggs on their nest. Not only that, but I also spotted them mating this morning which means that there are more eggs on the way. Whatever Wallace did to charm her during those 36 hours in the Swan Sanctuary has clearly worked, and after four lonely years for her she is set to be a Mum again. They will be mating once a day, every day, for however many eggs she is going to lay. I am told that with her previous mate, she always used to have 5-7 eggs so in theory she is already halfway through laying. Incubation will begin only once she is finished laying – we will rarely see her off the nest during this phase and if she is, then he will always take her place. So we are looking at having cygnets maybe seven weeks or so from now . . .

There was no guarantee that Wallace would stay in Hampstead given that the pair only met the night before at the Sanctuary. But they just seemed to form a connection over those few short hours and we were very lucky that he was both well enough for release and did not have a mate waiting for him back in Waltham Abbey. Nevertheless, it was still a risk bringing him here; our widow could have chased him away, or he could have chased her and brought a new mate to her pond, or the pair could have flown off and left the Heath altogether.

I’ve watched a lot of people on their one daily exercise session on the Heath do a double-take when they see two swans in the Highgate No. 1 pond after so many years of our widow being on her own. Most assume that she flew off and a new pair moved in, but each time I have re-told the story from 2m away I have seen something soften in people’s eyes. I have been overwhelmed with feedback from readers and fellow walkers telling me how the story has brought a tear to their eye, and it has been lovely to know that this pond romance has touched the hearts of so many during these uncertain pandemic times.

Jane Butterfield offers this lockdown poem:

A New Path

Nature has put humanity on pause,
a prompt, perhaps, to reflect and reset.
I wander daily on Hampstead Heath,
a favourite haunt and playground.
For years I have taken familiar, well trodden routes,
but now, with the gift of limitless time,
I choose the mysterious and new,
which reward with secret glades
to nourish and sustain my soul.

The birds have reclaimed the skies, and they sing euphorically,
providing a vibrant soundtrack to my rambles.
Their contrapuntal melodies reverberate,
uninhibited by the thundering bass lines of passing planes.

A previously unexplored woodland bank yields new friends; 
mature, gnarly oaks, whose outstretched arms beckon me to climb
and be held in their furrowed embrace.
They murmur as they creak and sway in the breeze, 
comforting me as I read, nestled in their boughs
under the surveillant eye of a territorial robin.
Wordsworth resonates more vividly now,
as I appreciate an environment reminiscent of his,  
a layer of progress shed.

As the days become weeks, 
these ancient characters, demonstrative with old fashioned charm,
pave my way with a painterly swirl of blue chimes; what hosts!
Childhood revisited, I hug them in gratitude.
Shyly, luminous green unfurls from their expectant buds, 
pure and perfect as newborns,
held aloft before an admiring, cloudless sky.

I return through a coiffured park,
where perfumed candy floss hums with the electric buzz of bees.
A crow caws prophetically from the branch of a delicate magnolia,
and rows of Malbec coloured tulips lean towards the sun.
Like road signs, they direct me home, 
where the evening light kisses volumes of Chopin on the piano,
and The Raindrop Prelude tinkles like the ice in my gin.

As humanity gasps for breath, 
it relaxes its grip on the throat of the natural world.
May 2020 be remembered as a Renaissance, a watershed;
the beginning of a new global path to heal our ailing planet.

Jane Butterfield

Chloe Harbour is spending lockdown in Herefordshire, where lambing is in full swing.

A short poem from Irene Slegt accompanies her photographs below:

Pondlife
In a life that shrunk to garden size
I watch over my smallish pond
What lingers, swims and flies?
It gives me hope to overcome. 

Margaretha Smits (M) offers these glimpses of a peaceful Heath during crisis:

The Heath in 1957

Ray Long has suggested that all lovers of Hampstead Heath will enjoy this film dating from 1957.

Janine Rhodes, back in the UK and living in Kent, sends greetings to old friends from the Pond and shares this picture taken on a recent trip to Merrickville, Ontario, Canada. She is embracing hearing loss, working on British Sign Language and putting together a service including Homeopathy, Reiki , Yoga and Gong playing for the wellbeing of those with hearing loss. She says she would love to hear from swimmers with hearing loss (email klpalockdowngallery@gmail.com with the subject ‘For Janine Rhodes’ and we will forward messages to her).

More pictures from Margaretha Smits (M) , whose dogs can swim while she can’t . . .

Another illustration by Nina Dogmetchi (Instagram : ninanou_studio) who says she misses the chance to swim with swifts flying overhead and the heron watching us all . . .

More early morning shots from Opi Bell.

Caroline Leaf has submitted this pencil drawing made last year. She explains that she drew it while sitting on a log in the woods above the upper meadow in fading evening light and was so absorbed in her work that she nearly missed the closing call.

Jillian Edelstein has allowed us to feature this image, currently on display in the Cabinet of Remedies exhibition displaying artists’ responses to the COVID-19 pandemic, mounted by HundredHeroines (an organization dedicated to promoting the achievement of women in the visual arts, with particular emphasis on photography). She chose this because the appearance of the photographic negatives side by side spoke to her of social distancing and the atmosphere of lockdown.

Opi Bell photographed a late frost on the Heath early in the morning of 15 May.

Penny Borrow writes: Hello! As news that the ponds can’t open yet came through, I felt so much sadness for those who rely on it for the peace and tranquility of its silken waters. Meanwhile I have continued to thank my lucky stars here in Dorset. The beach is never the same from day to day – sometimes the sensations are all about seeing and hearing birds above the crashing of the water – gulls, warblers, terns, oystercatchers, sandpipers, teeny scuttling plovers, sometimes a bubbling curlew or two and I even saw one of the Pond’s cormorants flying over yesterday . . . Sometimes it’s all about feeling and hearing the cold winds whipping the sand into banshees that howl and skid along the beach and sting bare legs straining to walk against the gusts, and the cold, cold water closing around and spitting me out on a breaker tumbling over the sand bar; and sometimes it’s all about the fascination of new things to see, like this amazing crystal clear jewel . . .

a sea gooseberry, one of the comb jelly family. A host of them washed up at a very low tide following the Flower Moon. These tiny creatures link up in lines to dance together, the light catching in their combs to create fluorescent shimmering rainbows in the sea! How lucky to be there just at that moment, before the sea came to take them back to their home!
Much love to all who love the Pond. Penny XxxX

Lifeguard Claire Roche sent us these photographs of some of the Pond during lockdown and some of the work (such as cleaning the benches) under way.

A very happy update on last month’s story from Swan Rescue volunteer Louisa Green:

Our long-term widow on Highgate No. 1 pond, who has remained alone since the tragic death of her mate in 2016, finally found love at The Swan Sanctuary in Shepperton in March. She was admitted after spending a few days on a neighbouring roof, and he was coming to the end of a two month stay following surgery to remove two fishing hooks from this throat. After knocking back every potential mate for four years since her love died, something about Wallace must have charmed our widow over those 36 hours she was at The Sanctuary. The pair were brought back to her pond in Hampstead the day before the lockdown started by my colleague from The Sanctuary, Gill Walker, were released onto the water by us both and, well, the rest is history! Ten weeks on, and we finally have the pitter patter of tiny webbed feet!

Opi Bell photographed foxgloves on the Heath one early June morning.

Being well acclimatised to cold water swimming at the Ladies’ Pond, Therese Melville decided to take a dip when Thames Water created a private pool in front of her house (having let the leak run for weeks). She reports that the water was crystal clear.

Another bulletin from Penny Borrow, in lockdown in Dorset: ‘I thought I’d also send you a picture of the teeny tiny Silver Studded Blue butterfly that I encountered yesterday on the marvellous coastal heath near Studland. Amazingly, it, and a host of its friends, were battling successfully against very strong winds, and an utter joy to watch on a miserable grey day!’

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LIDO FILM

Carol Archer has sent us a link to this a film about the Lido made by Angela Elvira Bruce in the days before any of us knew about COVID-19.

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Some sad news from Janet Richardson for swimmers who knew her beloved dog Maisy, who died last week.

Janet acquired Maisy as a rescue dog in France. Initially she had to be left with Janet’s French family while a passport and other formalities were arranged, but a few months later, accompanied by Janet and fellow pond swimmer Olga Way, Maisy arrived in London to begin her new life. Maisy would have been fourteen next month and had survived pancreatitis and, in 2019, an attack by a fighting dog. Her last illness was brief and very sudden, she was on the Heath as usual on the morning of the day she died. She will be greatly missed by Janet and many others.

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Ruth Corney, who has been photographing the ponds, the Lido and swimmers for many years, has compiled some of her photographs of Ladies’ Pond swimmers into a book, Kenwood Ladies’ Pond 2000-2020. She explains ‘I decided to print this small set of photos taken since 2000 as I feel now more than ever people are missing the Ponds so much. It’s been difficult not being able to go there for a swim and I thought that this little book would help bring back lovely memories of such a wonderful place . . . I would like to dedicate this book to all the remarkable women in our lives.’

Ruth has also worked with Camden New Journal’s Dan Carrier to produce Two Metres, a book about the local community’s experiences under lockdown. All proceeds from the sale of both books will go to the Alexandra Wylie Tower Foundation, a charity which provides children and vulnerable adults with basics (such as food, clothing and household necessities) as well as educational and cultural experiences. You can find out more about the books and order copies here.

In addition, Ruth has produced a short film based on the Ladies’ Pond book which you can watch to be reminded of the pond in happier times.

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Because of COVID-19, this year’s Highgate Festival has moved online with a programme representing the creativity of the local community, artists and businesses. Festival director Alicia Pivaro, a long-time Ladies’ Pond swimmer herself, presents Pond Postcards Remembered, a collection of postcards written by Ladies’ Pond swimmers as part of an exhibition in last year’s festival that celebrated the pond, its history and people. The postcard project continues as women are welcome to submit new responses to the pond during lockdown using this downloadable template. More representations of pond life can be seen at the Thrown Gallery (part of Highgate Contemporary Art) exhibition of ceramics by Helen Beard.

The festival also features more work by Ruth Corney, including Remarkable Highgate Women, a film featuring a number of familiar faces from the Ladies’ Pond.

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Photographer Sarah Saunders has also been documenting Ladies’ Pond life for many years as well as curating the KLPA archive (now housed at London’s Bishopsgate Institute). She has been reflecting on the Ladies’ Pond community in the face of attack by COVID-19 and the City of London’s determination to reduce our pond to nothing more than a ‘swimming facility’. Sarah offers these galleries as an antidote and a reminder of the unique warmth and eccentricity of the pond community.

The Ladies Pond Community

Winter Swim

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More pictures from Penny Borrow in Dorset, a Ruddy Darter dragonfly and, below, a Comma butterfly.

All good things must come to an end. With the easing of lockdown and the retirement of the curator (Nicky Mayhew) from the KLPA committee, the Lockdown Gallery is now closed for submissions. A huge thank you is due to everyone who contributed for helping to lift our spirits during difficult times.
NM, 7th July 2020.