Yesterday I caricatured for around 7 hours at Wild Harvest Honey Farm. Occasionally, while I was drawing, small bees flew around me. I only saw a few, and they seemed gentle, calm, and almost curious about what I was doing. One of them nearly flew into one of my caricaturing bags as I bagged up a drawing.
I’ve read that bees go exploring for sources of pollen to make their honey. Sometimes individual bees will fly up to six miles! Then they come back to the hive and dance for the others to communicate what they’ve seen. Each bee is a part of a larger whole, almost a mind—one that talks to itself through dancing. How crazy is that? I wonder if the hives were curious about all the activity around the farm, and if they sent out scouts to see what the commotion was about.
I imagine the little bees flying back to their hive and dancing for each other, trying to describe the lumbering humans, the tents, and the food trucks. Maybe one of the bees I saw described me to its fellows as it danced its interpretive little bee dance.
After the event, I drove home, had a very late lunch, and slept for hours. Caricaturing is my favorite thing to do, and I’m happy to wear myself out doing it. Like a bee searching for pollen, I roam far and wide for opportunities: a party here, a reception there, a festival at Wild Harvest Honey yesterday. In going to these places, I explore my world and meet others. They sit in front of me, and my hands dance across the page. I show them what I see. I am doing the thing that makes me happy and making something for them.
Yesterday, I met three little bees. I felt like I was in good company. They, like me, are explorers roaming for miles, searching, learning, and dancing—all in the pursuit of creating something that sustains them, and in the process making something sweet for others too.