Sometimes it’s just a matter of perspective, and Brad Walls knows it better than anyone. The photographer recently presented his new exhibition Passé in New York, where the images seamlessly blend with the surrounding space’s blood-red walls, which mirror the vibrant images, and perspectives play with the human body, redesigning its forms.
Curiosity, the right amount of ambition and buying one of the first consumer drones back in 2016 were the spark for Brad Walls’ success. He moved from Sydney to New York, and what started as a hobby soon turned into a career. In just a few years the New York based photographer has carved out a name for himself in the art world thanks to his images crafted into exacting compositions. He is an interesting example of how life can take unexpected turns and how stepping out of our comfort zone and the familiarity of our reality can lead to great things. Maybe we should all take a page out of his book, dare a little more, experiment a little more, because who knows what awaits us? In this interview, we had the chance to talk to him about the gallery space he specially made—noting that “Even the walls were constructed to exact dimensions so the prints would feel balanced”—and his overarching theme of control.
You came to photography relatively late. Could you tell us more about your life before becoming a full-time photographer?
I never set out to be a photographer, but I bought one of the first consumer drones back in 2016 out of curiosity. It wasn’t until I started flying it that I became fascinated with the aerial perspective. Photography was less about the camera for me, and more about how new technology could change the way we see the world. That experimentation eventually consumed me, and slowly the hobby overtook the career.
From Sydney to New York, how was this change?
It was both daunting and exhilarating. I left behind familiarity in Sydney for the complete unknown in New York, but I knew that if I wanted to push my practice further, this was the city to do it. Sydney gave me the foundation, but New York gave me the scale, the energy, and the community that ultimately shaped Passé.
How do you think that living in a such dynamic and creative city like New York has reshaped your vision?
New York doesn’t allow you to think small: the pace, the competition, the density of creative talent push you into ambition whether you’re ready or not. Passé is a direct result of that; I can’t imagine attempting something with sixty dancers and a 50-foot red carpet in Sydney. New York made me believe the impossible could be logistical.
Passé took you three years to make and involved over sixty dancers across New York City. What gave you the idea to commit to something that ambitious?
For years I had been experimenting with ballet as subject matter, fascinated by its symmetry and rigour. But I always had this vision of scaling it up. What would happen if I multiplied the dancers until they became architectural? That seed stayed with me until I moved here, and New York’s ballet community welcomed me in. At that point, it felt like the project was waiting for me, and I just had to make it happen, no matter how complex.
Colour in your exhibition is bold and striking: the vivid red set against the fragile whiteness of the ballerinas — it’s impossible to ignore. Do you consider colour as a backdrop or as a protagonist itself?
For me, colour is always a protagonist. It’s not a neutral container for the subject, it actively drives mood, energy, and composition. In Passé, the red carpet isn’t just a surface the dancers inhabit, it’s the stage, the theatre, the pulse of the work.
What do you want your viewers to feel when they enter the exhibition and how do you do it?
I wanted the show to feel like stepping directly onto the set of the photograph. The red walls, the carpet, the symmetry of the hang, all of it was designed to immerse the viewer, to blur the line between the work and the space. My hope is that people felt transported, that they were no longer in a gallery, but inside a composition.
How do you translate the symmetry of your images to the physical exhibition space?
I designed the space like I design a composition, carefully measured spacing, alignment, repetition. Even the walls were constructed to exact dimensions so the prints would feel balanced. The goal was to let the works breathe, but also to echo the same sense of geometry and control that defines the images themselves.
The body, especially the female one, is very important in your work. What does it give you as a visual language that other subjects don’t?
Its lines and grace offer a natural architecture that’s both structured and fluid. The female form, particularly in ballet, carries a balance of strength and delicacy that no inanimate object can replicate.
Was there a turning point when you realised ‘this is what I want to capture’?
Yes. When I first began photographing pools from above, I was struck by the way humans became graphic elements, shapes, gestures, fragments in a larger composition. That was the moment I realised I wasn’t so much documenting as designing with the human form. Ballet then became the natural evolution of that idea.
Are you more like an architect who carefully plans every single shot or do you let your intuition guide you once you start shooting?
I’m absolutely an architect first. I draw out my compositions, plan the scale, and build the set. But within that structure, intuition always has space; dancers will bring a new energy, light will shift. The best outcomes are where planning and spontaneity meet.
How do you feel looking back at your first projects, do they still feel close to you, or do you see yourself as having moved away from them?
They still feel close, Pools From Above, for example, was the series that gave me my voice. But at the same time, I’ve moved past simply repeating myself. Each body of work is a chapter, and Passé represents a significant evolution in both scale and narrative.
What does that tell you about your growth?
That growth for me is about risk. If I look back and see myself playing safe, then I know I’ve stalled. Passé was proof that I’m willing to take on more complexity, more collaboration, more exposure and that’s the trajectory I want to stay on.
In Displaced, you experimented also with frontal perspectives. What changes for you when shooting from above compared to shooting frontally?
I wanted to extend my design language beyond the aerial view, to keep pushing the work further. Introducing frontal perspectives meant working with models whose expressions and presence became part of the composition. That posed a new challenge, because while I often treat the human form as an object within a larger design, there’s an undeniable difference between photographing a body and photographing something inanimate. It forced me to think more deeply about the dynamics of the human element.
Is there anything you would like to explore or experiment with in your upcoming works?
Yes, I'd like to keep pushing the boundary between photography and installation where the work isn't just an image on a wall but an environment people enter. I'm also interested in experimenting more with colour fields and non-traditional performance spaces, maybe even collaborations outside of dance.
