
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.

A hundred and thirty guests feast while Christ works his first miracle almost unnoticed at the table. Napoleon's troops took it to Paris in 1797.

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.

Twelve meters of wall where the whole business of execution goes on at once, one thief still being hauled upright at the side.

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 giants eat, drink, and study their way across Renaissance France while a monk and a scoundrel debate marriage. Rabelais packed in so much filth and learning that his name became an adjective.

Fifty years on, writing in Guatemala, one of Cortés's foot soldiers set down the conquest of Mexico as the ranks saw it. He never got over his first sight of Tenochtitlan.

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.

Hercules bolts from Vice toward Virtue and gashes his leg on the thorns of the harder road as he goes.

Divine Wisdom looks up and Hercules looks down at a scatter of crowns and jewels, which is the entire argument of the picture.

A head made of cracked bark and bare twigs, standing for the dying year and, flatteringly, for a Habsburg dynasty that stays evergreen.

A cucumber nose, a peach cheek, a garlic-clove ear, and Arcimboldo's own name woven into the collar of plaited straw.

Every apostle is named in gold and Judas sits apart with a darkened halo, which makes the panel a teaching aid as much as a picture.

The legend that it saved church polyphony from being banned is probably untrue, but the words really do stay audible through six voices.