i want my dolphin safe doughnuts!
"I want to go on living even after my death". -Anne Frank
Taking a trip to Body Worlds (or Works, whatever) sure has given me a new perspective on that statement. Could these people who have been shamelessy been put on display ever imagined that their well-preserved carcasses would be gawked at by some random thousands of people every single day in for the rest of their 'plasticinated' (don't know if that's even a word!), dare I even use the term, lives? Even the term "naked" seems to do no justice to these people who have been stripped of their skins to exhibit the lack of uniqueness in the physical aspect of the human body.
The exhibit that affected me the most was the one of the woman who had a five month old baby in her womb. I could only think of a plethora of reasons as to why she died along with her baby. Of course, these "people" are meant to examined from an objective perspective and are famous for their medical (and artistic) significance. But even though that were the case, I can't help but be emotional about these people on display. How did they die? Were they so hopelessy alone, that when it was their turn to pass from this life to the next, nobody was there to claim them and so these doctors decided to experiment on these "rejects"?
I almost think that I thrive on my emotions. A great example would be the pencil that I lost today. I was VERY upset about it, and yet, when I think about it, it's only a pencil... nothing truly important. But I can assume that I am one of those people who seek significance in the insignificant. I always intuitively think that most of the things (because to say everything would be a lie) that comes into my life deserves its own special kind of attention from me. This could most likely be my downfall, as this attitude prevents me from mastering the art of letting go. This is probably bullshit, but I can't help but use my attitude as a metaphor in my life. If you care to know, ask me to elaborate.
So yeah. Body Worlds is enlightening.
Taking a trip to Body Worlds (or Works, whatever) sure has given me a new perspective on that statement. Could these people who have been shamelessy been put on display ever imagined that their well-preserved carcasses would be gawked at by some random thousands of people every single day in for the rest of their 'plasticinated' (don't know if that's even a word!), dare I even use the term, lives? Even the term "naked" seems to do no justice to these people who have been stripped of their skins to exhibit the lack of uniqueness in the physical aspect of the human body.
The exhibit that affected me the most was the one of the woman who had a five month old baby in her womb. I could only think of a plethora of reasons as to why she died along with her baby. Of course, these "people" are meant to examined from an objective perspective and are famous for their medical (and artistic) significance. But even though that were the case, I can't help but be emotional about these people on display. How did they die? Were they so hopelessy alone, that when it was their turn to pass from this life to the next, nobody was there to claim them and so these doctors decided to experiment on these "rejects"?
I almost think that I thrive on my emotions. A great example would be the pencil that I lost today. I was VERY upset about it, and yet, when I think about it, it's only a pencil... nothing truly important. But I can assume that I am one of those people who seek significance in the insignificant. I always intuitively think that most of the things (because to say everything would be a lie) that comes into my life deserves its own special kind of attention from me. This could most likely be my downfall, as this attitude prevents me from mastering the art of letting go. This is probably bullshit, but I can't help but use my attitude as a metaphor in my life. If you care to know, ask me to elaborate.
So yeah. Body Worlds is enlightening.