Bruegel’s Beekeepers
As much as I admire Bruegel’s paintings, one of my absolute favourite works by this artist (Pieter Bruegel The Elder 1525-30 - died September 9th 1569) is an ink drawing known as The Beekeepers. Here is a detail from the work (see above) or you can view online here
https://www.wikiart.org/en/pieter-bruegel-the-elder/the-beekeepers-and-the-birdnester-1568
This drawing has such gentle, fine detail. Indeed the pen work has a humming quality to it as it echoes across the paper. The mark making reminds me of pointillism, that much later technique adopted by artists in the nineteenth century who were most interested in the sensation of light and colour.
Bruegel’s drawing features beekeepers as they would have dressed in the sixteenth century, with hooded robes and wicker masks. The masks are unsettling, lending the figures an anonymity. I wonder if they might be all men, and as much as I would like to think that at least one might be female, no one can be sure. They would have had certain status in their community, as honey was a major source of sweetness. It would have been used both in food and medicine.
At first glance it seems the beekeepers hands are bare but a closer look reveals it could be possible they are wearing fine gloves made from animal skin or gut. There is something about the angular look of their fingers as if they might be constricted. It would certainly make sense to wear gloves. One likes to think of a beekeeper as someone who can whisper to the bees and they do no harm, but the wicker masks suggest otherwise.
The wicker masked beekeepers have a ritualistic quality, with the central figure appearing to be passively watching on as the others carry out their tasks. Perhaps he is observing the hive and is ready to help when needed. The drawing is also known as The Beekeepers and the Bird Nester. The inclusion of the boy up the tree is of course very deliberate: is Bruegel making some statement about how man plunders nature? Or is the boy reaching for birds eggs (or birds) there to show a contrast between the solemn anonymity of the beekeepers and his brazen attempts?
I have had a long interest in bees and folklore. Over time I have stumbled across various stories, tales told through time. Throughout the ages the beekeeper has had an important relationship with the hives, working with the bees in a way that suggests arcane understanding, an innate ability to connect with the sacredness of nature. Folk tales suggest how important it was to tell the bees when a beekeeper passed away. Mourners would be served cake and honey mead and cake and mead served to the bees in turn. The bees were spoken to and told of the beekeeper’s death:
Honey bees, honey bees, hear what I say!
Your Master J.A, has passed away,
But his wife now begs you freely stay,
And still gather honey for many a day.
Bonny bees, bonny bees, hear what I say!
(a rhyme from 19th century Lincolnshire*).
Many years ago I remember watching a documentary on television about bee stings being used to cure blindness. The bees were encouraged to sting near the person’s eyes. It was a disturbing idea and haunted me for years. I think what I found most disturbing was not that someone would want to be willingly stung that the bees could be used in this way when modern medicine would suggest the sting would fail to restore sight. I did not like the idea of a bee dying in vain.
Nowadays we are so wary of the plight of bees, their declining number and destroyed habitats. If a suburban gardener like myself finds an ailing bee, or a bee that seems to be in some trouble, we are quick to find a dish of sugary water with hope of reviving the insect. It feels like such a tiny thing to do, but gives a moment of connection.
Years ago, when we were children, my stepbrother made a display of dead bees along a row of bricks in the garden. I did not see him kill the bees or know how they had died but it chilled me, in the heat of a summer’s day, to see them so plump and dead.
When, some years ago, my then-partner and myself moved into a new build home we had a beehive compost bin installed in our back garden. Our new neighbours were anxious about this ‘hive’ and asked me directly if I was a beekeeper. There was a moment when I really wanted to say yes and then another moment when I thought, perhaps now we have the space I could become a beekeeper, but that moment flew by. I told the neighbours the truth and the look of relief on their faces was quite something.
(* the rhyme is from a text given in the book The Sacred Bee in Ancient Times and Folklore by Hilda M. Ransome)
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