Brad Walls is a New York–based artist originally from Sydney, Australia, whose forte is his distinct aerial perspective. As presented in his breakout book Pools From Above, Walls transforms movement, form and everyday environments into color-saturated, meticulously composed, minimalist works rooted in symmetry, negative space and spatial harmony. From synchronized swimmers and architectural facades to ballet dancers mid-pose, Walls’ photos are studies in geometry and rhythm. Surreal, but very real.
He maintains an abiding commitment to composition—”each frame is carefully sketched, mapped and refined before the camera is even raised,” his representative, Maxime Richard, detailed in an email. In his latest series, PASSÉ, he collaborated with over 60 ballet dancers from New York’s top companies and schools to reinterpret classical movement through his contemporary lens. “The result is an aerial study of ballet that explores the tension between performance and pattern, discipline and design.”
I asked Walls to discuss the overt and covert influences on his work and the essence of his aesthetic as he sees and feels it. Along with his responses is a generous sampling of his most spectacularly precise and painterly photo projects from the past few years.
Tether.
You’ve probably heard dozens of times by members of my generation that there is a Busby Berkeley sensation to your work. Was his choreography an influence on you?
Yes, especially when it comes to ballet and artistic swimming. But it’s not just the visuals—it’s his mindset that resonates. He took on challenges that felt impossible to Hollywood producers at the time and broke new ground both performatively and visually. That ambition to reimagine what’s possible has always inspired me.
Ombre Deux.
Mosiac.
Dissonance.
What are some of your other influences?
The world around me is my greatest influence. If we zoom in on that, architecture plays a big role. Its structure, balance and rhythm often serve as the foundation for how I see and compose.
Heroine.
I imagine that setting up your visions is extremely complicated. Precision means flawless. Are you indeed precise to the nth degree?
If you looked at my laptop desktop, you’d probably think the opposite. It’s complete chaos. But when it comes to my work, absolutely. I move elements around until they feel right. Over time, I’ve gotten faster at knowing when something works, but the same brutal perfectionism is still there. It’s instinctive now, but never careless.
Sequestered.
Specifically, what are the aerial technologies that you employ?
Either a drone or a camera crane rig, depending on the project. The most recent PASSÉ was a large crane.
Symphony.
Where did your passion for precision derive? Was this always part of your DNA, or something acquired over time?
It’s definitely something that developed over time. When I get into something I love, I tend to become a bit obsessive. Whether it was taking apart a computer as a kid or now figuring out exactly how to place a subject in the frame, I find myself diving deep into the details without even realizing it. The work has become more complex and grand, but the process is still the same.
Bolt.
You say in your artist’s statement that, “Through my work, I aim to create images that feel both structured and dreamlike, offering viewers not just something to look at, but something to step into.” I’d say that explains your motivations, but what are your emotions when you consider how you will compose a shot?
The forms and patterns in my compositions give me a real sense of calm and happiness. I don’t spend much time intellectualizing what my work means because that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to scratch that burning itch, the one that appears out of nowhere and makes my mind go “aha.” That’s the feeling I chase.
Spine.
I feel that this work, especially the color and pattern of the photos, is a form of abstraction. Do these ideas begin as real life and transform into abstract entities? They make me happy. How do they make you feel, in addition to being exhausted?
Ah, I’m happy that the pieces make you feel happy. Honestly, for me, it gives me a sense of calm. My mind is usually racing, thinking in every direction at once. But when I’m making these, everything slows down. It’s one of the only times my brain feels quiet. So yes, I’m exhausted, but in the best way. There’s joy in the process.
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