Leerling van Schule Schloss Salem spelend op een Bechstein-vleugel c. 1929

This sepia photograph of a student playing a Bechstein piano at Schule Schloss Salem is a quiet study in light and shadow. What strikes me is the tonal range; how the artist coaxes so much depth and form out of subtle gradations. The piano itself, a gleaming, dark presence, anchors the composition, but it’s the way the light catches the edges of the keys that really sings. It reminds me of the way Morandi would arrange and rearrange the same bottles in his studio, searching for the perfect alignment of forms. I’m also drawn to the chimney in the background, how its ornate, almost baroque form, contrasts with the modernist simplicity of the piano. It's a kind of conversation, maybe about tradition and progress, but one that never quite resolves. The piece evokes the way artists like Gerhard Richter worked with photography, embracing accident and erasure as a way to create a sense of memory, longing, and maybe even a touch of melancholy.