A fragment dropped between buildings. A geometry so precise that it’s impossible to ignore. From above, where most eyes never linger, the familiar choreography of tennis becomes something close to a dreamlike graphic.

Based in Seoul, Geon Yang has built a visual language that feels both austere and tender — one that strips the game down to its purest elements, then lets emotion bloom inside the essence. His drone photographs do not simply document sport; they reimagine it, turning courts into canvases and matches into meditations. In this conversation he reflects on the moment a blue peaceful court first caught his eye like an oasis in the city and the quiet romance of seeing tennis as both design and feeling at once.

You’re known today for your minimalist, geometric aerial images of tennis. If you go back to the beginning, what came first for you: sport, photography, or the fascination with looking at the world from above?

“I was captivated by all three simultaneously. One day, nine years ago, I happened to be looking down at the city center through the satellite view of a map app. Amidst the complex, dreary gray buildings, a blue tennis court was shining like an oasis in a desert. Neat, grid-like white lines were arranged on a flat rectangular surface, and above it, the tennis balls and the movement of people stood out in three dimensions.

I currently work as a visual designer. Back when I was a student, learning about the three core elements of design—point, line, and plane—and the beauty created by the ‘contrast between flat and three-dimensional’ didn’t really resonate with me. However, the moment I witnessed that scene through the satellite view, I profoundly understood what the formative beauty I had learned about in books actually meant. The visual impact was so immense that I immediately bought a drone, and from then on, I began photographing tennis courts.”

Before tennis courts and drones, what were you photographing or sketching? Were you already drawn to grids, patterns and clean shapes, or did that arrive later?

“I didn’t have a specific subject I set out to shoot. However, I think I always pressed the shutter when an object looked like something else entirely. Looking back now, I realize that even then I was deeply drawn to the interesting shapes of objects and unfamiliar moments that stimulate the imagination.”

Out of all the possible subjects for aerial photography — cities, roads, landscapes — why did tennis become so central to your work?

“The blue tennis court, squarely nestled within the gray cityscape, felt like a ‘blue sky’ to me. The drone’s gaze was pointing vertically down at the ground, but paradoxically, it felt as though I was looking up at a blue sky, lost in imagination. That peculiar sensation drew me to tennis courts.”

Was there a specific moment when you realized the appeal of tennis from above?

“It was when I first flew a drone and captured a tennis court in a perfect top-down view. The moment I looked at the screen, I felt it transform from a simple photograph of a space into a graphic image.”

Your images feel very minimal and controlled: flat planes of colour, precise lines, tiny figures. How did this visual language develop for you?

“Through my love of photography, I experimented with many different shooting styles. However, when organizing my photos later, I found myself repeatedly returning not to the photos that spelled everything out perfectly, but to the ones containing only the minimal hints and fragments where my imagination began. From then on, I naturally started stripping away unnecessary information from the frame. Through the process of leaving only lines, planes, and colors, my work evolved into its current minimal and restrained visual language.”

What is the first thing you look for when framing a shot from the sky?

“The very first thing I look for when flying a drone is ’empty space.’ I believe that empty space is the negative space that sparks imagination. When I discover a compelling negative space, I wait to see what kind of joyful imagination and story will unfold within it before pressing the shutter.”

What are the unique advantages of using a drone?

“The biggest advantage is the overwhelmingly ‘unfamiliar perspective.’ Although drone photography has become mainstream lately, a perfect vertical view is still a perspective not easily experienced in daily life. Because of this, even highly familiar spaces are instantly transformed into surreal stages. The rhythm of the space, the relationships between objects, and geometric patterns that were invisible close to the ground are sharply revealed from above.

Another profound appeal is the deep sense of peace it brings me. When I hover the drone at 100 meters and look toward the horizon, an expansive, breathtaking sky unfolds; when I look straight down, giant buildings and people look like tiny toys. Looking down at the world like that, the big and small worries I carry in my daily life suddenly feel small and light, too. For me, flying a drone offers a sense of peace that goes far beyond my artistic practice.”

From above, players look small, almost like pieces on a board. Yet your images still feel emotional. What do you think about capturing feelings from such a distant, almost “cold” perspective?

“I actually think there are emotions that resonate more strongly precisely because of the distance. When looking down from above, you can’t see the player’s detailed facial expressions or beads of sweat, but through their positioning on the court, dynamic movements, and the distance between opponents, the ‘tension and relationships’ that dominate that space are completely revealed.”

Tennis is one of the most “designed” sports: measured lines, standardised dimensions, repeated geometry everywhere in the world. Does that universality attract you as a visual artist?

“Tennis courts maintain standard dimensions and a similar shape wherever you go in the world. However, within that identically controlled structure, completely different images are born depending on the angle of the light, the color of the court, human movement, the season and weather, and the surrounding environment. The fact that infinite variations bloom from within a rigid universality is fascinating.”

Where does the boundary between sports and design lie? 

“Within my perspective, the boundary between the two dissolves. When I look at a tennis court through the lens, it is an intense sports arena, but simultaneously a massive graphic layout. Therefore, my photography is the work of freely crossing both realms—capturing the sport while simultaneously uncovering the hidden design.”

Does the elegance and control of tennis influence your work?

“It certainly has a profound influence. The elegant order and balance inherent to tennis seem to naturally seep into the overall restrained atmosphere of my photography.”

Is there a dream location — a specific court, a famous tournament, a rooftop, a city — that you would love to photograph from above?

“Actually, rather than having a specific location in mind, I tend to love and look forward to the moments when I accidentally discover new images in completely unexpected, unfamiliar places. However, as a drone photographer, I do always carry a dream of one day capturing all four Grand Slam tennis courts—the Australian Open, the French Open, Wimbledon, and the US Open—through my own unique perspective.”