Art, empathy, and survival

A 44-ton aluminum beehive in the middle of Kew Gardens in London, a towering monument that was made in homage to the Fibonacci sequence and overlooks Kangaroo Point in Brisbane, an aluminum and steel disc temporarily installed in Taiching and transmitting live signals from the surface of the sun—Wolfgang Buttress’s artworks transcend their sculptural medium to blur the lines between public art and the natural world. Through his work, the award-winning artist and sculptor transports viewers to a place where nature and imagination collide. Buttress’s awe-inspiring sculptures become portals to new dimensions that emphasize the wonder of our cosmos and the fragility of our ecosystems. His latest project, BEES: A Story of Survival, takes visitors on an immersive journey through the world of the eponymous pollinators. Using installations, interactives, and soundscapes (including sounds from more than 30,000 bees!), Buttress has built an experience that drops visitors into the sensory-rich world of bees, underscoring the vital role these insects play in our planet’s life support systems.

You designed and produced BEES: A Story of Survival, which is currently on display here at ROM. Why did you choose this medium to underscore the urgency around declining bee populations?  

Bees are essential—not only to human life but to the health of the planet as a whole. This work begins with the idea that humans are not the central actors on Earth but one species within a deeply interconnected web of life. As an artist, I am interested in creating experiences that allow people to feel, rather than simply understand.  

My intention was to cultivate empathy for these extraordinary creatures, whose existence is increasingly under threat. If we can learn to love something, perhaps we become less willing to harm or destroy it.  

I wanted to create an immersive environment in which the audience could feel part of the bees’ world rather than separate from it. By manipulating scale and perspective, the work invites visitors to momentarily inhabit a different point of view, evoking wonder, awe, and humility. The hope is that this shift in perception fosters a deeper appreciation of our place within the living world.  

The urgency of this relationship is supported by well-established scientific evidence.  

Bees are a keystone species, pollinating around 80 percent of all flowering plants. These plants provide food, shelter, and habitat for countless birds, mammals, insects, and other wildlife, making bees fundamental to healthy ecosystems. They are also indispensable to global food production. More than 70 of the world’s 100 most important food crops—including apples, strawberries, almonds, tomatoes, and squash—depend on bee pollination.  

Beyond food production, bees strengthen biodiversity by transferring pollen between plant populations, increasing genetic diversity, and helping plants become more resilient to disease and environmental change.  

Their economic value is equally significant. The pollination services bees provide free of charge save farmers billions of pounds worldwide each year. In the U.K. alone, replacing bee pollination through manual hand-pollination is estimated to cost around £1.8 billion annually.  

The facts are compelling. Yet facts alone rarely change how we feel. This exhibition seeks to complement scientific understanding with an emotional experience—one that invites empathy, challenges our human-centred perspective, and reminds us that the survival of bees is inseparable from our own.  

Much of your art draws inspiration from nature. Do you see the natural world almost as an artistic partner on some of these projects? 

I certainly do. When I was younger, I believed my role as an artist was to express my own inner turmoil and angst. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize that I exist within the natural world—that I am part of it, not apart from it. That shift in perspective has changed the way I make work. Rather than imposing my own voice, I’m more interested in paying attention, observing, expressing, and responding to what is already there. In that sense, nature becomes a collaborator. I’ve found that listening can be a far more creative and fulfilling act than shouting. 

Your sculptures use sound to envelop the visitor in their surroundings. How does sound in general influence your practice?  

Sound has become fundamental to my practice, although that wasn’t always the case. I’ve been making music for over 40 years, beginning in a punk band before gradually moving toward more ambient forms of composition. For a long time, though, music and visual art existed as two completely separate parts of my life.  

That changed in 2014 when I had a profound experience standing close to a colony of bees. It wasn’t just seeing them—it was hearing them. Their collective hum felt like a direct connection to the Earth, almost as though the bees were acting as a conduit or portal. There was something deeply visceral about that low, resonant vibration. I remember thinking that if I could somehow translate that energy, vitality, and constant movement into an artwork, it could become an extraordinary experience for both myself and possibly others.  

Working with my musical collaborators, BE and Karman Line Collective, we discovered that the natural hum of a bee colony sits remarkably close to the key of C. We began playing alongside the bees, recording hundreds of musical stems that eventually became a living library of sounds.  

That process led to The Hive, now permanently installed at Kew Gardens in London. Live signals from inside an active beehive continuously trigger both the lighting and the musical elements within the sculpture. In effect, the bees become co-authors of the soundscape. Because the colony is constantly changing, the composition is never the same twice. It feels less like a piece of music and more like an ongoing conversation between bees and humans.  

Do you listen to music while working?  

When I’m working in the studio, I usually choose either complete silence or music that creates space to think. I often listen to artists such as Stars of the Lid, Brian Eno, Burial, and Thomas Tallis. Every now and then, though, I still need to clear the air with something loud and primal like the Saints or the Stooges.  

Who have been the biggest influences on your practice?  

There are so many influences that shape my practice—some obvious, some hidden; some powerful and immediate, others subtle and slowly absorbed over time. I think influence comes from everywhere: from people, places, experiences, and moments that alter the way we see the world.  

One of the most significant experiences in my artistic journey was my first visit to Japan. The sensitivity to space, silence, materials, craftsmanship, and the relationship between art, architecture, and nature had a profound impact on how I think about creating and experiencing art.  

I was also incredibly fortunate to have an inspiring art teacher at secondary school, Brian Campbell, who encouraged me to look closely, question everything, and explore my own ideas. That early encouragement has remained with me throughout my life.  

My influences are broad and often cross between disciplines. In music, I find inspiration across centuries and genres—from Hildegard of Bingen to the Velvet Underground, and from Brian Eno to Burial. In visual art, artists such as Cy Twombly and Antoni Tàpies have influenced the way I think about gesture, material, space, and the emotional power of simplicity. In architecture, the work of SANAA, Tadao Ando, and Junya Ishigami continues to inspire me through their sensitivity to light, atmosphere, nature, and the human experience of space.  

Ultimately, I think the greatest influences are not always individual artists or specific works but encounters and experiences that shift your perception. Those moments of connection—whether with a place, a sound, a material, or another living thing—are often what stay with you and quietly shape the work you make.  

Have you heard directly from visitors after they visited the BEES exhibition? 

I have been fortunate to receive many thoughtful and positive responses from visitors to the exhibition. The messages that have touched me most deeply have come from younger people. 

There is something incredibly moving about seeing the work connect with a generation who will inherit the challenges we face. My generation has not always been the best custodians of the natural world, and I believe it is the next generation who will bring the vision, commitment, compassion, and determination needed to create meaningful change.  

If this exhibition can play even a small part in inspiring curiosity, empathy, and a deeper connection with the natural world, then I feel it has achieved something worthwhile. Ultimately, the work is about creating a moment of connection—one that might encourage people to care, and caring is often where change begins.  

What are you working on at the moment? 

At the moment, I am working on several projects that, although very different in form, are connected by ideas around memory, nature, and unseen forces.  

I am developing a large-scale sculpture called Willow in Taipei, Taiwan, as well as a memorial sculpture dedicated to U.K. journalists who have lost their lives while reporting from the front line. Both projects explore themes of remembrance, resilience, and the ways in which we hold on to stories and human experiences.  

Alongside these sculptural works, I am creating a new series of paintings inspired by the phases of the moon and the rhythms of natural cycles. I am also beginning a new musical collaboration with Karman Line Collective, where we are working with seismic vibrations from the Earth—exploring how the hidden movements beneath our feet can be translated into sound and experience.  

I seem to keep returning to the same questions: How can we listen more closely, how can we become more aware of the forces and stories that surround us, and how can art create a connection between ourselves and the wider world?

BEES: A Story of Survival is created by the National Museums Liverpool in partnership with Wolfgang Buttress. The exhibition is on display at ROM till October 18, 2026, and is presented by Desjardins Financial Group.