Heinrich Johann Schonfeld

Schönfeld had a habit of sketching at cafés in 1920s Cluj, listening more than talking, while his friends debated politics and art. He painted the same crumbling balcony in his hometown over and over—same angle, different light—like a painter who couldn’t quite let go of a place. If you’ve ever stood in front of an old photo and wondered how the light felt on skin, try his Zădărnicia; it’s the view from that balcony at 4 p.m. on a Tuesday in 1926.