I took this while sitting in at a rehearsal with a few musician friends of mine. We were an hour into the rehearsal before I noticed how the pianist's hands and keyboard were reflected in the upraised lid. Once I noticed, I waited for a slow passage to maintain enough sharpness while shooting at 1/30 second at f/2.8.
The simplest photographs--that is, the ones that have only a few basic elements and would suffer if any of the elements were removed or cropped--aren't necessarily the easiest to see and compose. If they were, you'd see a lot more of them. They can be devilishly hard to pick out from the clutter of everyday life, especially if your mind isn't attuned to it. Just as some musicians can tell whether a note is off pitch, even without reference to other notes, some photographers have a gift for simplicity. They see it, frame it and, if necessary, use post-processing to strip out superfluous color, tones and detail.
I would like to be one of those photographers and I strive to be, yet I'm not always successful. That's okay. I suppose if I were always successful there would be no challenge to it and I'd get bored. But when I do manage to capture an image that's simple yet elegant, there's no thrill like it. It's like having a fleeting impression of that elemental creative force we all sense and connect to. You can try explaining "it," but those who are familiar with what you're trying to explain will know that your explanation is not "it." And "it" is as simple as that.