Room 2 · The Harvesters

The story of this room

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Step through the door and the whole wall turns gold. It is wheat, ripe and high, under a hazy summer sky. Leo pretends to wipe sweat from his forehead. After the heaven and hell of the first room, this one holds only land and people.

Find the big tree in the middle. Under it, a man in a white shirt lies stretched out on the stubble, legs apart, mouth open, fast asleep. His belt has come loose. One arm is flung behind his head. Every time I stand here, I swear I can hear him snore.

Right next to him, the rest of the crew is having lunch. Some hold bowls and spoon something up. Someone slices bread. A man tips a big jug back and drinks. There is a basket of bread at their feet. You can almost hear the clatter of a short break.

Now look left. A narrow path has been cut through the standing wheat, and a man walks out of it carrying a red water jug. In front of him, others are still swinging their scythes.

Far off on the right, under another tree, two people bend over to pick up fallen red fruit. Beyond the field you can see a church roof, and on the left, far away, a bay with ships on the water. Leo traces a line in his notebook, from the sleeping man all the way to the sea. Your eye walks the whole distance.

Pieter Bruegel the Elder painted this in 1565, in oil on an oak panel. It belongs to a series about the times of the year, ordered by Niclaes Jongelinck, a merchant in Antwerp. The series is usually thought to have had six pictures. Five survive today, in Vienna, Prague, and here at The Met in New York.

In Bruegel's day, big paintings usually starred saints, kings, or gods. Bruegel gave more than five feet of oak to farmhands on their lunch break.

Next, we cross to Spain. Instead of a clear summer field, a city on a hill waits under a storm.

5 places to look closer

Start with the man stretched out at the foot of the tree. His white shirt is open, his legs are flung apart, and his mouth hangs open in sleep. His belt has come loose and one hand has dropped to the stubble. You can almost feel how many hours of cutting wheat came before this nap.

Now move right to the lunch party. People spoon something white out of wooden bowls, cut bread, and tip up a big jug to drink. A few round fruits sit on a white cloth. Everyone perches on sheaves in a different pose, and the scene is so lively you can almost hear the chatter.

On the left, a narrow path has been cut through the standing wheat. A man walks out along it with a jug in each hand, one red and one dark. The wheat is nearly as tall as he is, so the path looks like a little alley.

Zoom in on the green in front of the village. Tiny figures run, gather in a circle, and carry things. There are thatched cottages and a brick house nearby. The work in the fields and the life of the village go on at the same moment.

Farther still, two sailing ships float on the water near the horizon, and a pointed tower stands in the haze. Bruegel paints the near field a deep gold and the far distance a pale blue-gray, so the air seems to thin as your eye travels away.