
Hunters in the Snow
Three hunters come home over the hill with one thin catch while villagers skate below. Bruegel painted it for a series on the months.

Three hunters come home over the hill with one thin catch while villagers skate below. Bruegel painted it for a series on the months.

Skeletons herd the living into a coffin-trap while a king clutches his gold and two lovers play music at the corner, not yet looking up.

One man lies flat on his back with his mouth open while the others cut wheat. Late summer, from the same series of months.

The tower is already leaning as it goes up, and Bruegel drew the cranes and ramps in enough detail that you could nearly build it.

Two men carry the porridge in on an unhinged door, the bagpiper eyes it hungrily, and the bride sits idle under her paper crown.

Two pale legs disappear into the sea in the corner while the ploughman keeps ploughing. Auden wrote a poem about exactly that indifference.

A man bangs his head on a brick wall, another casts roses before swine, and over a hundred proverbs are acted out literally in one village.

Six blind men go down one after another, and Bruegel painted their clouded eyes accurately enough for doctors to diagnose the conditions.

Around two hundred children playing some eighty different games, no adults anywhere, and no particular place for the eye to start.

June or July from the same series of months, with rakes over shoulders and a girl carrying baskets of cherries toward us.

Bruegel gives the holy figures plain faces and surrounds them with gawkers and whisperers, which makes reverence hard to come by.

You take in the whole river valley before you notice the sower at the bottom corner, or Christ preaching from a boat behind him.