There are places that live quietly in the background of your life—until one day you return, and they open everything back up.
This is Nanny Water Cottage in Laytown, County Meath. A small, stone, thatched cottage sitting directly on the sand where the sea meets the River Nanny. It’s one of the most photographed cottages in Ireland, originally built in the 18th century as a coastguard station to counter smuggling, and now known for its stark beauty and improbable location—roof nearly brushing the horizon, sea air forever at its door.
But for me, this cottage isn’t just iconic. It’s personal.
Years ago, after a family reunion, I stayed here with my family. The cottage is owned by my father’s cousin, and it holds layers of memories of being there with my Dad. I hadn’t been back in nearly thirty years. Returning recently, I was struck by how much remained unchanged. The charm. The quiet. The feeling of standing at the edge of land and water, past and present.
This image isn’t about perfection. In the studio, I worked with inks and process in a way that allowed uncertainty, softness, and erosion—much like memory itself. What we remember is never exact. It shifts. It blurs. It holds emotion more than detail.
This is not a document of the cottage as it is, but an interpretation of how it feels—how a place can hold history, family, loss, and belonging all at once.
Some places don’t just get photographed. They get remembered.