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Pieter Bruegel and the Idea of Human Nature
A fresh account of the life, ideas, and art of the beloved Northern Renaissance master.
In sixteenth-century Northern Europe, during a time of increasing religious and political conflict, Flemish painter Pieter Bruegel explored how people perceived human nature. Bruegel turned his critical eye and peerless paintbrush to mankind’s labors and pleasures, its foibles and rituals of daily life, portraying landscapes, peasant life, and biblical scenes in startling detail. Much like the great humanist scholar Erasmus of Rotterdam, Bruegel questioned how well we really know ourselves and also how we know, or visually read, others. His work often represented mankind’s ignorance and insignificance, emphasizing the futility of ambition and the absurdity of pride.
This superbly illustrated volume examines how Bruegel’s art and ideas enabled people to ponder what it meant to be human. Published to coincide with the four-hundred-fiftieth anniversary of Bruegel’s death, it will appeal to all those interested in art and philosophy, the Renaissance, and Flemish painting.
In sixteenth-century Northern Europe, during a time of increasing religious and political conflict, Flemish painter Pieter Bruegel explored how people perceived human nature. Bruegel turned his critical eye and peerless paintbrush to mankind’s labors and pleasures, its foibles and rituals of daily life, portraying landscapes, peasant life, and biblical scenes in startling detail. Much like the great humanist scholar Erasmus of Rotterdam, Bruegel questioned how well we really know ourselves and also how we know, or visually read, others. His work often represented mankind’s ignorance and insignificance, emphasizing the futility of ambition and the absurdity of pride.
This superbly illustrated volume examines how Bruegel’s art and ideas enabled people to ponder what it meant to be human. Published to coincide with the four-hundred-fiftieth anniversary of Bruegel’s death, it will appeal to all those interested in art and philosophy, the Renaissance, and Flemish painting.
- GenresArtHistoryNonfiction
240 pages, Hardcover
Published July 10, 2019
3 people are currently reading
64 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
June 4, 2021
Is there such a thing as human nature? Are we, on the whole, good or bad? And how far can we trust one another, or trust ourselves? Are there powers, traits, and limits common to all, or does each of us write his own definition? Honig’s book is part of a “Renaissance Lives” series but it’s not a proper biography. Rather, she uses the paintings and prints of Pieter Bruegel the Elder (of whose life little is known anyway) to illustrate the answers to those questions offered by the Christian Humanism of Erasmus and his circle.
The answers aren’t very encouraging: individually and collectively we give ourselves over to folly and wrath, to cruelty and avarice, to pride and perversion; we are bent toward sin and inevitably indulge it. Like the Everyman of Bruegel’s 1558 print, “every man seeks himself” but “nobody knows himself.” That is the curse of our fallen, broken nature. In an era of “progress,” pessimism like that may sound novel or suspicious, but it’s not a judgment that belonged to the sixteenth-century alone; it was the judgment of the whole Christian era, and of the Stoics among others. But the past two hundred years or so have shuffled the moral deck. As Honig writes:
"Pride is a trait we tend to value and even foster today, and its opposites in the modern thesaurus are negatives: shame, self-doubt, humiliation, melancholy. But in the sixteenth century, pride’s opposites were among the most valued human and social goods. Within the canon of virtues and vices, pride’s inverse was faith, because pride was associated with a disdain for God… Other positive oppositions to pride include[d] humility, obedience, wisdom, contentment with one’s lot in life, and care for the common good."
Sin was never the whole story, because this too belonged to human nature: the image of God within us as a pledge of participation in His divine life through the Incarnation and Resurrection of Christ. Our delight in and longing for joy, love, and communion Erasmus (and Bruegel) understood to be a foretaste of that bliss. Whereas Bruegel’s more Boschian paintings depict the dark sides of our nature (Dulle Griet, The Fall of the Rebel Angels, The Triumph of Death), others show us the light (Children’s Games, The Wedding Dance, The Harvesters).
According to her bio Elizabeth Alice Honig is a professor of art history at UC Berkeley. Her text is well illustrated and she makes a fair tour guide, explaining what’s necessary to know of the historical background and pointing out the hidden details of Bruegel’s frequently unsettling and impossibly intricate pictures. She is writing for a popular audience here, but – I think – with only mixed success. Unfortunately, the brain-muddling jargon of the lecture hall will not be entirely excluded.
For example, in discussing Bruegel’s depictions of lepers, with their “attendant informative signals of deformation,” she unhelpfully explains how “the impaired as spectacle [offers] itself to be read,” and furthermore that “in staging charity around the bodily misshapen, Bruegel poses questions about how non-normative physical bodies can tell us about themselves at moments of social pressure.” I used to find such language vaguely titillating when I was twenty-year-old college boy but at forty-eight I’m pretty sure if you can’t say something more simply than that, it’s not worth saying in the first place.
I don’t want to be too hard on Honig, however. If the bloated code language of academia is another form of peacock pride, well, it's adopted almost unthinkingly in her profession, and as Erasmus would affirm and Bruegel illustrates again and again (in The Tower of Babel, The Fall of Icarus, The Conversion of Saul, and elsewhere) pride gets each of us one way or another.
My rating here is based on the text of the book, of course; there's no rating the artwork of Bruegel himself.
The answers aren’t very encouraging: individually and collectively we give ourselves over to folly and wrath, to cruelty and avarice, to pride and perversion; we are bent toward sin and inevitably indulge it. Like the Everyman of Bruegel’s 1558 print, “every man seeks himself” but “nobody knows himself.” That is the curse of our fallen, broken nature. In an era of “progress,” pessimism like that may sound novel or suspicious, but it’s not a judgment that belonged to the sixteenth-century alone; it was the judgment of the whole Christian era, and of the Stoics among others. But the past two hundred years or so have shuffled the moral deck. As Honig writes:
"Pride is a trait we tend to value and even foster today, and its opposites in the modern thesaurus are negatives: shame, self-doubt, humiliation, melancholy. But in the sixteenth century, pride’s opposites were among the most valued human and social goods. Within the canon of virtues and vices, pride’s inverse was faith, because pride was associated with a disdain for God… Other positive oppositions to pride include[d] humility, obedience, wisdom, contentment with one’s lot in life, and care for the common good."
Sin was never the whole story, because this too belonged to human nature: the image of God within us as a pledge of participation in His divine life through the Incarnation and Resurrection of Christ. Our delight in and longing for joy, love, and communion Erasmus (and Bruegel) understood to be a foretaste of that bliss. Whereas Bruegel’s more Boschian paintings depict the dark sides of our nature (Dulle Griet, The Fall of the Rebel Angels, The Triumph of Death), others show us the light (Children’s Games, The Wedding Dance, The Harvesters).
According to her bio Elizabeth Alice Honig is a professor of art history at UC Berkeley. Her text is well illustrated and she makes a fair tour guide, explaining what’s necessary to know of the historical background and pointing out the hidden details of Bruegel’s frequently unsettling and impossibly intricate pictures. She is writing for a popular audience here, but – I think – with only mixed success. Unfortunately, the brain-muddling jargon of the lecture hall will not be entirely excluded.
For example, in discussing Bruegel’s depictions of lepers, with their “attendant informative signals of deformation,” she unhelpfully explains how “the impaired as spectacle [offers] itself to be read,” and furthermore that “in staging charity around the bodily misshapen, Bruegel poses questions about how non-normative physical bodies can tell us about themselves at moments of social pressure.” I used to find such language vaguely titillating when I was twenty-year-old college boy but at forty-eight I’m pretty sure if you can’t say something more simply than that, it’s not worth saying in the first place.
I don’t want to be too hard on Honig, however. If the bloated code language of academia is another form of peacock pride, well, it's adopted almost unthinkingly in her profession, and as Erasmus would affirm and Bruegel illustrates again and again (in The Tower of Babel, The Fall of Icarus, The Conversion of Saul, and elsewhere) pride gets each of us one way or another.
My rating here is based on the text of the book, of course; there's no rating the artwork of Bruegel himself.
April 11, 2020
This book was so so so good. Exactly what I was looking for! Well researched, informative, and entertaining, the author should be the next Simon Schama, Ross King, or Waldemar Januszczak in her ability to merge analysis, history and delight as an adept wordsmith. The book is both densely packed with information but also concise without running into the trouble of being dry. Really what all good art history books should aim towards... I super enjoyed the intricate details and philosophical imports from the day. I could not recommend this book more. Can’t wait to rear her other works.
July 11, 2025
This is the kind of book that makes you excited to go to a museum.
December 19, 2024
Scholarly without being drily academic, this is an enjoyable read that places Brueghel’s work within the context of the thinkers and writers of his time. Most prominently, Erasmus. The author does a good job of leading us through the major paintings, pointing out telling details and movements of narrative which are easy to miss. I liked that the print series’ were also given space.
Sins, Virtues, the rights and wrongs of behaviour, bodily comportment, speech, heresy … it seems a time fraught with social mores, a time of moralising and judgement from on high. As Brueghel develops his depictions of peasants from ‘types’ acting out proverbs or demonstrating customs, toward the later paintings of the peasant wedding and kermis, it’s notable that his viewpoint shifts, from a floating, detached place above the scene, to one grounded and immersed in it. This encapsulates the greatness of Brueghel: while his epic and fantastical works (Dulle Griet, Triumph of Death, Tower of Babel) are undeniably masterpieces of invention, it’s ultimately these late peasant paintings which stick in the mind because they warm our hearts and touch us with something actually quite rare in painting: genuine humanity. While most peasant genre paintings were filled with a haughty or cruel mockery, Brueghel’s cannot fail to make us smile in a much fonder way, through a sense of commonality.
The (hardback) book is well illustrated with good colour reproductions and details, but I recommend reading while with looking at insidebruegel.net - a website made along with the exceptional Vienna exhibition of a few years ago which I made a pilgrimage to - which has incredibly high resolution images you can zoom into to see every detail.
Sins, Virtues, the rights and wrongs of behaviour, bodily comportment, speech, heresy … it seems a time fraught with social mores, a time of moralising and judgement from on high. As Brueghel develops his depictions of peasants from ‘types’ acting out proverbs or demonstrating customs, toward the later paintings of the peasant wedding and kermis, it’s notable that his viewpoint shifts, from a floating, detached place above the scene, to one grounded and immersed in it. This encapsulates the greatness of Brueghel: while his epic and fantastical works (Dulle Griet, Triumph of Death, Tower of Babel) are undeniably masterpieces of invention, it’s ultimately these late peasant paintings which stick in the mind because they warm our hearts and touch us with something actually quite rare in painting: genuine humanity. While most peasant genre paintings were filled with a haughty or cruel mockery, Brueghel’s cannot fail to make us smile in a much fonder way, through a sense of commonality.
The (hardback) book is well illustrated with good colour reproductions and details, but I recommend reading while with looking at insidebruegel.net - a website made along with the exceptional Vienna exhibition of a few years ago which I made a pilgrimage to - which has incredibly high resolution images you can zoom into to see every detail.
May 17, 2024
I really enjoyed this little book and learned so much. I was most struck by the original meaning of "the common sense" as something within a person's mind which analyzed and coordinated information from the five senses.
There's a lot in it and I'm due for a reread.
Besides being educational and thought-provoking, this book is full of what art historians like to call "pretty pictures" (a technical term?)
Full disclosure - Dr Honig was my best friend in high school, but that's not why I like the book. Though I suppose it IS why I read it.
There's a lot in it and I'm due for a reread.
Besides being educational and thought-provoking, this book is full of what art historians like to call "pretty pictures" (a technical term?)
Full disclosure - Dr Honig was my best friend in high school, but that's not why I like the book. Though I suppose it IS why I read it.
September 12, 2025
This was an incredible read. Honig’s formal analysis of each painting is thorough, detailed, and captivating. And philosophy forward approach to Bruegel’s work was illuminating and helpful to orient myself in the Renaissance and early modern period’s worldview. As someone who has loved Bruegel since the moment I saw Hunters in the Snow, this book has deepened my love and understanding for this influential painter!
December 30, 2025
I love Bruegel's paintings and this book offered an opportunity to sit with them. Much of the reflection on the meaning of the work was too general, 30,000-feet for me, though I did appreciate the moments where his work was put into conversation with Erasmus.
June 26, 2019
Fascinating, fun, insightful--now I'm ready to head to Vienna to pore over the paintings with more understanding.
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April 24, 2025
Excellent look at the artistic and historical aspects of Bruegel's work. I read this after I read Michael Frayn's novel Headlong, about a (fictional) possible new work by the artist. I wanted to know more about Bruegel and this was at a perfect level. Lots of full-color plates, details of many paintings, relationship of the art to various thinkers of the time, particularly Erasmus. I recommend it for art novices in particular.
FMI see my blog post at A Just Recompense.
FMI see my blog post at A Just Recompense.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews