New Street in Waterford possesses significant historical and architectural interest, most notably for its foundational connection to Blessed Edmund Rice and the Christian Brothers. The street provides a fascinating narrative of urban evolution, from an area once characterised by tenements to a redeveloped community space, blending its rich past with a modern identity.
The Question of Rotation: Fact, Perception, and Mechanics
A central question for visitors who observed the fountain over many years was whether its base rotated. The perception that the orb was in different positions on different visits is accurate, but the mechanism behind this change was not automated. A thorough review of all available documentation, including the artist's statements, technical descriptions, and the tender for the fountain's eventual replacement, reveals no mention of any motor, turntable, or electrical system designed for rotation. The conclusion is that the large, circular platform of Kilkenny marble was a static installation.
The explanation for the changing orientation of the orb lies in a subtle but crucial detail found in the artist's broader commentary on her work. Describing her sphere sculptures in general, O'Connell notes that "although very heavy, they are moveable and can form a part of a ritual". This indicates that the orb was not permanently fused to the platform in a single orientation. It was likely repositioned manually, perhaps by maintenance crews during servicing, over the course of its two decades in the park. These periodic, deliberate adjustments would account for the user's correct observation that the orb appeared in different positions on different occasions.
A secondary factor contributing to this perception could be the powerful optical effects of the sculpture itself. As O'Connell intended, the inverted and distorted real-time images on the sphere's surface would change dramatically depending on the viewer's angle, the quality of the light, the weather, and the time of day. This constant flux of reflected and refracted imagery could easily create a powerful illusion of movement or a sense of seeing the object differently each time, reinforcing the impression of a changed orientation even when none had occurred.
The Church of St John remains a vibrant place of worship. It is notably used by the Fraternity of Saint Peter (F.S.S.P.) and is a centre for the Traditional Latin Mass in Ireland. The church offers a full schedule of services, including daily Low Masses and a Sung Mass on Sundays. It also hosts community groups such as a Legion of Mary and a men's meeting.
A Note on the Editing: The Challenge of AI Inpainting
To remove the people from the photographs, I used a technology called Generative AI, specifically a process often referred to as 'inpainting' or 'content-aware fill'. Here is a brief explanation of how it works and why it can produce slightly odd results.
When you remove an object from a photo, the AI analyses the pixels surrounding the empty area. It then generates entirely new pixels to fill the gap, essentially making an educated guess as to what the background should look like.
However, this process faces two main challenges, especially with images like these:
Lower Resolution Infill: The AI-generated 'patch' is a fabrication. Sometimes, this new content can have a slightly softer focus or a less detailed texture than the original, high-resolution photograph. This can make the edited area look subtly different from its surroundings.
Repeating Reflections: This is where AI often struggles. A wet, curved surface creates incredibly complex and unique reflections that are constantly changing. The AI doesn't understand the physics of light; it only sees patterns. When faced with a complex reflection, it may try to replicate a pattern it sees nearby, leading to unnatural, repeating textures that can look like a flawed copy-and-paste job. Recreating a believable, non-repeating reflection is one of the most difficult tasks for this technology.
THE DE LA SALLE HALL AND MY VISITS TO WATERFORD
My photographic journeys to Waterford began in 2016, initially as an exciting mission to find and document its street art. The city was buzzing with anticipation, full of 'Waterford Walls' signs that hinted at a vibrant transformation. While I was perhaps a little underwhelmed by the amount of art on display during that first trip, the highlight was undoubtedly discovering the De La Salle Hall. The striking mural on this beautiful, old building captivated me, and from then on, checking in on the hall and its artwork became a ritual of every subsequent visit.
Imagine my disappointment, then, when I finally returned in August 2025 to find the wall completely painted over—a blank, lifeless surface where a masterpiece had once been. A local walking tour guide suggested that fire damage was to blame, but I have since learned this was not the full story. The removal of the mural was not a sudden act of neglect or misfortune; it was the culmination of a slow, deliberate process of legal change and urban renewal.
The Hall's History: A Century of Change
The story of the De La Salle Hall is deeply woven into the fabric of Waterford's history. Built in 1891 as a training college for primary school teachers, it was an institution that shaped thousands of educators. After the government rationalised the national education system in 1939, it closed as a college and later served as a private school before eventually being abandoned.
For decades, the building stood unused—a prominent but increasingly neglected part of the streetscape. Its journey from a private, religious-run institution to a derelict site, and finally to a state-controlled asset, mirrors a broader shift in Irish public life. The building’s decline and eventual designation as a "derelict site" set the stage for its final transformation.
The Art and Its Impermanence
The De La Salle Hall was given a new lease of life as a canvas during the inaugural Waterford Walls festival in August 2015. The festival was an immediate success, transforming the city with murals by talented artists from around the world. The piece on the De La Salle Hall, created by Irish artist Eoin O'Connor, quickly became a local favourite. The art breathed new life into the neglected building, perfectly fulfilling the festival’s mission to regenerate urban spaces.
The public's emotional connection to the artwork was a testament to its success. Yet, street art is, by its nature, often temporary. While it feels like a permanent feature of a wall, it can be painted over at any time at the owner's discretion. The De La Salle Hall mural was a beautiful, but ultimately transient, chapter in the building's long story.
The Truth Behind the Removal
The notion that the mural was removed due to fire damage is contradicted by the facts. While a fire did occur at the hall in August 2021, emergency services contained the blaze swiftly. Reports from the scene confirmed that the damage was minimal and certainly not extensive enough to warrant painting over the entire facade.
The real reason for the artwork's disappearance lies in a legal transition. Due to the building's derelict status, the Waterford City and County Council initiated a process to acquire it. This legal mechanism, known as a Vesting Order, was signed in November 2024, officially transferring ownership to the council.
The mural's removal was a direct consequence of this change in ownership. Stripping the facade was a necessary preparatory step for the property’s next chapter. The council is now responsible for this public asset, and its future will be determined by the needs of the city. While it is a shame to see the art go, its removal signifies progress—a promise to bring a once-neglected space back to life.
Conclusion
The De La Salle Hall mural was a personal highlight of my visits to Waterford, a beautiful piece that temporarily transformed a disused building. Its removal was not an act of artistic neglect or the result of a fire, but a logical step in a necessary legal and administrative process. The building was declared derelict, acquired by the city council, and is now being prepared for a new purpose.
The mural served its function wonderfully, breathing colour and life into a forgotten corner of the city. Although its physical presence is gone, its legacy lives on in the photographs and memories of all who admired it. Its removal marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another for a significant piece of Waterford's architectural history.
