Interview Transcript: A Conversation Between Dave Southall and Grant, Co-founder of World of Water.
Abridged from “Digital Art and the World of Water Awareness Campaign
Recorded at the HoBB TV studio. (Pub. LPB. First published 2019).
Dave Southall:
So, Grant, we’re facing the possible collapse of marine ecosystems, inland waters choked with plastic, and people in major cities turning on taps with no real clue where the water comes from—or what it’s costing the planet. And yet, here you are, a traditional creative spark having left the big city and having explored digital art since the pixels were the size of sugar cubes. Honestly, how do you see something so ethereal as digital media making a real dent in something this vast?
Grant:
It’s a challenge, Dave — and one that I wrestle with every time some new water pollution report breaks the news surface. But here’s the thing: Water is the blood of this planet. It keeps life alive. The use of digital images, both stills and videos, can rapidly combine data about our planet’s situation in ways that no static graph or lengthy government report ever could. Digital art can convey urgency and loss in real-time, making people feel the gravity of what’s happening as it happens.
The new emerging digital tools let us craft experiences that are immersive, emotional, even a bit unsettling. Imagine a visitor stepping into a room and hearing the sigh of a dying coral reef in real-time, feeling the temperature shift as sea levels rise around them. Such is the future of digital art. Art that is no longer one of straight forward exhibits. Art that places people in emotional landscapes – and we need these new digital communication tools because facts alone aren’t cutting it and they are becoming too numerous.
Dave Southall:
But can what you’re suggesting will work, really compete with the sheer scale of the global issue? We’re talking about oceans acidifying, glaciers vanishing. Whole river systems dying of thirst. You’re putting a lot of faith in pixels and projections aren’t you?
Grant:
Yes, because pixels can carry a lot of power when rooted in verifiable truth. If we harness them wisely, these data portals leave their screens. The climate crisis, the water crisis—it’s vast, yes, but it’s also personal. People change when they feel connected, when they see their daily cup of tea in the context of Himalayan meltwater or Sudanese drought.
Developments in digital media gives us ever greater reach—and mobile phones give us immediacy. We can take live water stories global, bypass borders, tailoring experiences to local realities. A school in London can explore the Ganges delta, realtime. A child in Nairobi can walk through a digital sculpture that collapses as water scarcity rises. It’s not about competing with the problem as you suggest. It’s about piercing the numbness.
Dave Southall:
Alright, but walk me through how this doesn’t become preaching to the choir. These proposed WOW exhibitions – aren’t they just attracting the already-converted?
Grant:
That’s the beauty of digital creations, Dave. they won’t stay inside white-walled galleries. These digital tools live and work online, in phones, in public parks – as installations in city centres. Think “projection mapping in train stations’. Think online ‘video water rituals that young people can replicate and share with one click.’ Through creative digital art we’re weaving the message into platforms where people are already living. And we’re doing it with creativity, not to produce guilt. That makes the difference.
Dave Southall:
And the art itself? What makes it more than just water-themed decoration?
Grant:
You may as well ask, “What makes Banksy much more than grafitti?” It’s the message. Images that breathe with data – ones that could literally respond to real-time changes in rainfall, pollution, tide levels. There’s one concept I’m designing – an artwork that fades and darkens as a monitor moves down a nearby river picking up more pollutants.It starts beautiful, almost luminous. Then, the more the local water quality drops, the artwork reflects that degradation. People can’t ignore it. It becomes a mirror of what’s going on – not just of the water, but of ourselves and our actions.
And then there are the creative pieces that dissolve. Evaporate. Like disappearing ink or biodegradable sculptures that literally vanish over the course of time. You’re watching the decay and the rot and the transience of water, of life itself. That kind of poetic decay has its own perpetual beauty. Think of Paul Thek’s sculpt of “meat pieces? These images stick with people and linger far longer than facts and figures.
Dave Southall:
That’s the same lingering that Hirst went for with his cow’s head and flies but let’s pull back a bit in your career if we might. You’ve always spoken from a place of passion in your work. Where does that come from? What keeps you in this water fight?
Grant:
Oh, Dave… I grew up watching damselflies skim across dew ponds and trying to listen to water boatmen under the surface with a stethoscope of my grandad’s. I’ve been mesmerised by water and waterlife since before I could swim. Water isn’t just a theme for me, it’s a lifelong fascination, almost a sacred connection.
I remember free diving off Dartmouth as a teenager, swaying with the kelp seaweeds – forests of cathedral like proportions rising from their utterly peaceful sandy seabed, yet tuned to every shifting tide, every fragile balance. That sense of wonder has never left me. It’s why I can’t stand by while we boil the oceans and poison the rivers. Creative expression for me, whether I’m drawing, writing or carving, is just the most immediate way I know to reach out and say: Look at this. Isn’t it worth saving?
Dave Southall:
Alright, but you’re also working with limited budgets, ever trying to make the World of Water message more meaningful and accessible. That’s got to be a tall order. How do you balance the technological ambition with practical realities?
Grant:
I maintain my focus. This has led me to work with architects, programmers, publishers, teachers, musicians, farmers and community groups in many different creative roles. I soak up experiences and use them like you would open-source tools – you repurpose what comes your way then you sort out what resonates together to assist with your aims.
Putting technological solutions aside, a simple sound installation of dripping water in a sun-baked room for example can be just as impactful as a full VR suite – if it’s presented well. And because the tech is evolving so fast, a lot of what used to cost thousands can now be done on a shoestring, with the right spark.
Dave Southall:
So where do you see this going? Ten years from now? What’s the future of digital creativity in environmental activism, specifically around water?
Grant:
I see a world where environmental data becomes art. Where public fountains change colour based on global ocean temperatures. Where urban murals come alive in rain. Where students walk through a digital forest and feel the loss of a vanished river through spatial sound and augmented storytelling.
Digital artistry, in its many emerging forms, will be as much a part of environmental literacy as science classes. Because unlike fixed media it doesn’t just tell us what’s happened – it lets us feel what’s happening. And when you feel it, realtime, when you really feel it… you’re moved to act. That’s where change makes a giant leap.
Dave Southall:
Powerful stuff, Grant. You’ve got me seeing this through a new flexible lens. Maybe it’s not about shrinking the problem down—it’s about expanding our emotional bandwidth. Making space for awe again.
Grant:
“Exactly. Digital art helps us carry those feelings into places where the connection to water has drifted downstream.
Awe — so we can refresh our lost reverence and rediscover the wonder of water.
Grief — so we truly feel the pain of its creatures, as their watery homes come under threat.
Hope — so that the water that birthed us all continues to cycle, pure, for all future Mothers to come.”
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