Select Image Below To Visit The Photo Gallery: Street Art On Liberty Lane In 2021

Photographed By William Murphy - Select Image To View Photographs

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I USED A SONY A7RIV

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There’s a specific energy to Liberty Lane that I’ve always been drawn to. Tucked between Kevin Street and Camden Row, it’s one of those Dublin spots where the city’s pulse feels most visible—splashed across the brickwork in layers of aerosol and grit. But my visit in September 2021 felt different. It wasn't just the art that had changed; the very atmosphere of the street had shifted.

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During the Covid years, the rhythm of street photography in Dublin fundamentally broke. What used to be a predictable, even peaceful, pursuit became something far more uncertain. Almost from day one of the lockdowns, I noticed a change—an edge to the streets that didn't disappear once the world reopened. Today, that "new normal" is defined by the silent whir of electric bikes and scooters, and unfortunately, not everyone on them is just passing through.

A Shadow in the Lane

While I was out photographing near the Kevin Street and Camden Row, I realised I wasn't alone. A person on a bike was following me, trailing my movements for nearly an hour. As a photographer, you develop a sixth sense for your surroundings, and my gut was telling me this wasn't a coincidence.

By the time I reached the mouth of the lane, I was genuinely concerned. I spotted three delivery riders gathered nearby—the unsung navigators of our modern streets—and decided to take a chance. I approached them and asked if they knew the cyclist behind me. To my immense relief, two of them stepped up immediately. They told me they’d "have a chat" with him. Whatever was said worked; the cyclist vanished in a heartbeat.

It was a stark reminder that while the art on the walls is beautiful, the street itself requires a constant, weary vigilance.

Where Modern Art Meets Ancient Silence

It is a strange irony that this lane—now a hotspot for modern, often fleeting, street art—leads directly to the heavy, permanent silence of St Kevin’s Churchyard.

If you’ve never wandered into the park there, it’s like stepping through a portal. The ruins of the 12th-century church stand as a skeleton of Dublin’s medieval past. It’s the final resting place of Archbishop Dermot O’Hurley, who was executed in 1584, and for centuries, it was a place of solemn pilgrimage.

In the 1960s, it was "tamed" into a public park, with headstones lined up against the walls like silent spectators. I often find myself standing there, caught between the vivid, loud murals of the lane and the grey, quiet history of the churchyard. One represents the voice of the city today; the other, the echoes of those who walked these same paths hundreds of years ago.

The Global Shift

I’ve been reading accounts from photographers not just in Ireland, but in London, Paris, and New York, and the story is the same. The post-pandemic urban landscape feels more territorial. The rise of high-speed e-bikes has made "stalking" or "scouting" photographers much easier for those looking for an opportunity. We are no longer just observers; in many ways, we’ve become the observed.

Despite the nerves of that September afternoon, I still find Liberty Lane essential. It’s a place that refuses to stay the same. You just have to make sure you're watching the street as closely as you're watching the viewfinder.