Lucian Catalin Manda

The morning sun filters through a lace-curtained window, casting soft golden light on a modest kitchen table. The remnants of breakfast are still there — a nearly empty plate, a ceramic mug that once held something warm, and fruit gathered from the garden the evening before. The large gourds dominate the scene, symbols of harvest and quiet abundance, their textured skins echoing the changing season.

Autumn’s Quiet Table isn’t about the feast — it’s about what lingers after. The stillness. The satisfaction. The quiet reflection that comes with early mornings when time seems to pause and the ordinary becomes poetic. The artist has layered paint thickly, giving texture to the memory itself — as if each stroke holds a breath of cold air, a rustling leaf, a whisper of gratitude. It’s a portrait of simple living, where even a half-eaten plum and a chipped cup can feel like treasures.