We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a bee, close-up, dancing and, of course, buzzing. Sure, the game’s all square after extra time and they’re lining up for the penalty shoot-out, but just look at this little fella, building its nest, foraging for food, nursing the brood, and keeping its world ticking cleanly along. Or it’s the big reveal of the soapy affair that’s been bubbling along for months, a climax of popular archetypes gurning into kabuki masks, poised in Expressionist gestures. But just look for a moment inside the hive, where he teases wax scales to refashion the comb, capturing pollen and nectar in cells. A shopping mall burns – or a school, or a church, or just another house that could so easily be yours or mine. And there is shouting which, though you don’t understand the words, is as clear as touch and scent. But we interrupt this programme to bring you a bee, black and gold as an ancient emperor, the background blurred, the sound mic’d up so your whole world shakes.
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Oz Hardwick
Picture Nick Victor
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