This April marks the 113th anniversary of one of the most well-known maritime tragedies in history, the sinking of the RMS Titanic. In fact, today April 11th was the day 113 years ago when the Titanic departed Ireland on its both Maiden and Final voyage.

While countless stories have been told about that night, some of its quieter threads still run through families today, carried not just by those who sailed, but by those who stood on the shores and watched her go.

For me, the Titanic isn’t just a story from the past. It’s part of my family’s history, and part of why I do what I do today.

I was born and raised in Cork City, Ireland. I grew up not knowing that photography had already run through my blood for generations. When I picked up a camera professionally in 2008, it felt like I was starting something new. It wasn’t until years later, when my great-gran aunt passed away, that I discovered the truth. As the photographer in the family, I was handed a box of glass negatives, old medium format rolls, 35mm film, and a few worn scrapbooks that told the story of my great-grandfather’s and my family’s life.

My Great Grandfather J.P Frost was an interesting man, he was involved with societies, volunteering, there were photos of him with race cars, airplanes and motorcycles, and guess what, he was a photographer.

Above image shows one of the scrapbooks and my grandfather and great grandfathers cameras.

Inside those pages were photographs of Ireland, scenes from travels across Israel, Germany, and Austria in the early 1900s, photographs of car races in Cork City, sailing around cork Harbor and plane rides in 1919. And tucked between the pages was one image that stood out….the Titanic, captured just off the coast of Ireland.

Today, a few cameras, a scrapbook sit on a shelf in my office in Arizona, right above my desk. They are a daily reminder of the craft and the calling I am proud to carry forward.

J.P

The Titanic’s story is tied forever to Ireland. After setting sail from Southampton on April 10, 1912, she made two stops. The first at Cherbourg, France, and then at Queenstown, Ireland, known today as Cobh. It was in Queenstown that 123 new passengers came aboard. Some were first-class travelers, returning home to America. Most were third-class passengers, young Irish men and women, carrying their dreams of a new life across the ocean.

Queenstown would be the last place Titanic saw land.

When my great-grandfather photographed her sailing away, he wasn’t just documenting a ship. He was capturing a moment that held so much hope, so much excitement, and, unknowingly, so much finality. Just five days later, in the early hours of April 15, 1912, the Titanic struck an iceberg and sank into the Atlantic Ocean. Over 1,500 souls were lost, making it one of the deadliest maritime disasters in history.

That photograph, and everything it represents, has stayed with me.

In 2014, I made my own crossing from Ireland to the United States, settling in Arizona. A very different voyage, but in some ways, the same dream, a hope for something new, a future built on courage and faith. I live and work today in the Green Valley/Sahuarita area, part of a long line of Irish immigrants who carried pieces of home across the Atlantic with them.

QE2 and its final voyage stopping in Ireland.

Above image is the photo I captured of the QE2s Final Voyage which I took from the same location 96 years later from where my Great grandfather captured the image of the Titanic.

Photography, for me, is part of that legacy. My great-grandfather wasn’t just a man with a camera. He was a member of several respected societies, including the Royal Cork Yacht Club, the oldest yacht club in the world, founded in 1790. Photography was his way of recording life, of holding onto fleeting moments. It’s the same for me.

When I photograph a portrait, capture a landscape, or document a story, I’m not just taking a picture. I’m telling a story that I hope will last beyond me. Photography is a way of writing with light, preserving the faces, places, and moments that make up our lives.

As the anniversary of the Titanic’s sinking approaches, I find myself thinking often about legacy, about the lives remembered and the lives forgotten. I think about my great-grandfather standing on the shore, camera in hand, about the immigrants waving goodbye to Ireland, and about the stories they hoped to live out across the sea.

I hope my work today continues that tradition. I hope the images I create carry the same honesty and humanity that I see in those old photographs. We are, all of us, part of a larger story, one written across generations, one that reminds us that life, in all its beauty and fragility, is worth remembering.

You can see more of my work at www.dorphoto.com.

About David O’Riordan

Member of the Professional Photographers of America, David O’Riordan is an Irish-born photographer based in Arizona. Specializing in portraiture, storytelling, and fine art prints, he draws on generations of family tradition behind the camera to capture authentic stories rooted in legacy, culture, and connection.

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David O’Riordan Photography

A Titanic Legacy

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