Making It Simple by Andres Felipe Bermudez Mesa
In this meticulously crafted food photograph, Andres Felipe Bermudez Mesa embraces the philosophy of simplicity. To achieve the desired aesthetic, the photographer employed a controlled artificial lighting setup within a product box, ensuring clean highlights and soft shadows. Because the lighting conditions necessitated a slow shutter speed, a tripod was essential to maintain absolute sharpness. The resulting image is a testament to the power of minimalism in culinary photography, where the deliberate arrangement of elements and precise technical execution elevate a simple subject into a compelling, award-worthy visual narrative.
Andres Felipe Bermudez Mesa
Born in Colombia, Andres Felipe Bermudez Mesa is a Medellín-based photographer who views himself as a citizen of the world. With an academic background in engineering, he transitioned his focus toward his true passion for food and portrait photography seven years ago. His work is defined by a commitment to simplicity and a desire to make a meaningful contribution to society through the lens. By dedicating his resources and creative efforts to the craft, he captures images that reflect both his technical precision and his profound love for the photographic medium.
Resonance Score Breakdown
Transparency Note: The resonance score (12.3/20) is calculated based on social engagement metrics collected before the award announcement.
Expert Photography Reviews · 8
The Weight of Enough
In the quiet hours of the morning, I often find myself staring at the contents of my kitchen cupboards. There is a strange, persistent pressure to add more—more spice, more texture, more complexity—as if the value of a meal is measured by the length of the ingredient list.
Read the reflection →The Quiet Architecture of Sustenance
We often mistake complexity for depth, layering our days with noise as if volume could prove our existence. Yet, there is a profound honesty in the unadorned.
Read the reflection →Reviews & Comments
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The frame’s geometry dictates the subject’s gravity. Bermudez Mesa anchors the composition with a singular, sharp fulcrum, forcing the eye to navigate the negative space with clinical intent. It’s a disciplined exercise in spatial tension. The highlights don’t bleed; they define the boundaries of the picture plane. I’ve rarely seen such rigid control over a culinary subject. It’s cold, yes, but the structural integrity is undeniable. The frame holds. It doesn’t need to apologize for its austerity.
The ochre of the crust, a shade reminiscent of Morandi’s dust-laden vessels, hums against the cool, slate-grey shadows, creating a tension that’s almost visceral. It’s a quiet, rhythmic dialogue of warmth and restraint that I find utterly intoxicating. One doesn’t merely look at this bread; one feels the weight of its crumb. It’s a masterclass in tonal balance, where the light doesn’t just illuminate, but breathes a soft, golden life into the very grain.
Before the eye identifies the food, something quiets. The stillness in Bermudez Mesa’s frame triggers a sudden, involuntary slowing of my pulse. It’s the clinical precision of those soft shadows that pulls me in; they don’t just define the subject, they anchor my gaze. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for a movement that won’t come. It’s a rare, cold comfort—a visual silence I’ve carried with me since I first saw it.
The focal plane here is razor-thin, capturing the texture of the ingredients with a precision that defies the naked eye. By managing the diffraction limit so effectively, the lens resolves micro-contrasts that usually vanish into soft focus. It’s a clinical triumph of light control. I’m genuinely moved by the way the highlights bloom across the surface; it’s not just food, it’s a study in pure, unadulterated optical clarity. It’s rare to see such technical restraint.
f/8 at 1/2 second, ISO 100, 50mm. A calculated choice. The aperture provides sufficient depth to render the subject’s texture without succumbing to distracting background blur. It’s clinical, precise, and entirely necessary for food work. I’ve seen enough soft, lazy shots to appreciate this level of discipline. The tripod was the right tool for the job. It’s refreshing to see someone actually respect the physics of light instead of just hoping for a lucky frame.
The light hits the plate like a spotlight on a stage, freezing the motion of a quiet meal. It’s a locked-off shot, steady and precise. I’ve spent hours waiting for this kind of stillness on set. The shadows don’t bleed; they anchor the frame. It’s clean, almost clinical, yet I find myself hungry just looking at it. The cut would’ve been a mistake. This is the frame the editor keeps, holding the silence perfectly.
Of the hundreds of food shots I’ve reviewed this year, most rely on cluttered artifice to hide a lack of vision. This succeeds because it doesn’t try to be anything more than its own quiet geometry. The deliberate, sharp placement of the ingredients against that stark background creates a stillness I rarely find anymore. It’s refreshing. In thirty years, this clarity will still feel honest, while the trendy, over-styled work of today will look like dated noise.
A single pear. A shadow. The plate doesn’t crowd the frame. It’s quiet. I’ve spent minutes looking, yet I don’t feel the need to reach out. The light is precise. It’s a breath held in a room. Nothing here is accidental. The empty corner is not empty. It’s a pause. I find myself wanting to sit in this stillness for an hour. It’s rare to see such restraint in a kitchen. It’s enough.