My friend wanted to go see the Bodyworlds exhibit. I knew nothing about it and did a cursory glance to see what it was about. It sounded science-heavy (she’s a social scientist) and the exhibit was in Philly at the Franklin Institute, where I’d grown up going to field trips learning about claustrophobia via a human-sized walk-through heart. I’d always wanted to visit the nearby Mütter Museum, a Victorian medical oddities spot. She really didn’t want to see that museum as much as I really didn’t want to see Bodyworlds, so we agreed to swap museum experiences for the day. I figured the Franklin Institute museum restaurant would have a decent cheesesteak and fries, and I wasn’t wrong.
What I hadn’t counted on was that my cheesesteak appetite would be affected by the inside-out humans splayed all over the sacred digs of Benjamin Franklin. I’m to blame for my lack of Bodyworlds research. Everyone I’ve talked to about this has either seen the exhibit (“years ago!”) or been aware of its contents, but I missed the memo on its graphic nature. The drama of a skin-free smoker with black lungs still holding a cigarette or other “so you don’t take care of your body, well look at all the Quarter Pounders that are going to kill you” shaming didn’t bother me, though the hunched-over elderly skeleton with a cane was a reminder of why I go to the chiropractor. I sent a video of the dog innards to my veterinarian daughter and she thought it was incredibly cool. I’d no idea I’d be driven to tears at the sight of the pro-lifey fetuses (from one to 40 weeks) that were a graphic, haunting reminder of my three miscarriages.
The Bodyworlds exhibit is one of the most successful travelling exhibitions in the world, on display since 1995, attracting more than 56 million visitors in over 160 cities worldwide, with a goal of preventive healthcare. Eighty-seven percent of visitors state that they knew more about the human body after their tour and 68 percent of the respondents resolve to pay more attention to their physical health after seeing it. I found it educational even as I was mildly creeped out by the “plastination” technique, and its top-hat wearing creator German Dr. Gunther Von Hagens; a modern, evolved, intellectual carnival side-show.
The Mütter Museum of The College of Physicians of Philadelphia began as a donation from American surgeon Thomas Dent Mütter, MD (1811-1859), dedicated to medical education, stipulating that by accepting his donation of 1700 objects and $30,000, the College must hire a curator, maintain and expand the collection, fund annual lectures, and erect a fireproof building for the collection. The first building was completed in 1863, relocating in 1909 with its original cases, now encompassing more than 25,000 pieces.
Recently there’s been debate about the ethics of the human remains on display. While I was touring Bodyworlds, I noticed there was no information at all about the human on display—was this a 24-year-old woman who died in a car wreck and donated her body to science? I thought her identity (broadly; if not her name, perhaps age, profession or home country) should be noted. At the Mütter there was much more of an effort to honor those who’d contributed their bodies to scientific research; for example the famous skull exhibit notes the age/profession/country of origin.