Gold leaf is not paint and does not behave like it. It arrives as sheets a fraction of the thickness of paper, so light they lift on a breath, and it is laid onto a prepared surface one leaf at a time by hand. Nothing about the process can be hurried or automated.
The preparation is where the work actually lives. Carved teak is sealed and then built up with successive layers of a fine ground, each one sanded back, until the surface is smooth enough that the leaf will not catch on a fibre - but not so filled that the carved detail softens. Getting that balance on relief work as fine as the cherub panels here is the difference between carving you can read and carving that has disappeared under its own finish.
Then the size is laid, and the gilder waits. Applied too wet, the leaf drowns; too dry, it will not hold. The window is judged by touch and by experience, not by a clock. Leaf is laid, pressed into every hollow of the carving with a soft brush, and finally burnished where the light should catch hardest.
What you see on the pedestals and mirror frames is that sequence, repeated across every carved surface of the set.