Praxiteles, the Greek sculptor, is noted for pioneering the representation of the naked female form. Around 360 BC he carved a statue of Aphrodite that appeared modest in the way she covered her groin. The work provoked mixed reactions; some city authorities refused to display it, requesting versions in which the goddess seemed more veiled.
Ultimately the statue found a home in Knidos, placed within a temple devoted to Aphrodite. Its circular layout allowed observers to view the figure from every angle. Praxiteles’ bold concept and flawless execution drew crowds, and Knidos became a renowned tourist destination of the era. Ancient Greeks even joked that curiosity alone brought people to see the goddess; one anecdote has Aphrodite asking, in jest, when Praxiteles first saw her naked.
In the words of Juan Luis Arsuaga, a respected paleoanthropologist, the story aligns with a broader tribute to the human body as a highly efficient machine refined by millions of years of evolution.
I didn’t want to create another anatomy atlas but a guide that invites us to explore the body and get to know it better
Arsuaga described the project as a fresh narrative on anatomy, distinct from medical textbooks. He recalled how a lifetime in science reshaped his view of the body, comparing his own dissection experience with how students encounter anatomy in slides. The aim was a discovery, not a dry atlas. He even suggested readers pause to reflect, perhaps reading while commuting, and acknowledge the reactions around them as they engage with the text.
an excellent machine
According to Arsuaga, the human body poses the central question while evolution supplies the answer. The work unfolds as a novel, presenting characters drawn from historical figures and philosophical muses to illuminate the body’s evolution and its features. It explores how the foot differs from other limbs in its evolutionary story, the remarkable energy efficiency of human movement, and whether substantial architectural changes in Homo sapiens occurred only in the distant past or if significant shifts continue today.
The narrative also tackles curious questions about our species. Why do humans possess a large gluteus maximus? Does it reflect biomechanics or signals of attraction? If humans share roots with great apes, when do growth spurts occur and why don’t all limbs grow proportionally? Arsuaga suggests that the answers intertwine evolution with culture. The ancient Greeks celebrated ideal beauty by shaping anatomical ideas, sometimes inventing standards that didn’t exist in nature or overlooking details some found imperfect.
It is a common mood today to admire a sculpted physique, yet the Greeks favored a more balanced aesthetic than the modern six-pack. They celebrated a Greek ideal known as the Adonis belt, admired by athletes, yet recognized as a cultural ideal rather than a literal blueprint. If Sergio Ramos reads this, a playful note for him about anatomical specifics might be in order, as the text reflects on how real biology compares with classical ideals.
Know yourself, take care of yourself, love yourself
The Delphic maxim guides the reader to understand and care for one’s body, starting with acceptance. The work highlights anatomical features that readers might overlook, arguing that reframing language about body parts helps address discomfort. Drawing again on classical culture, Arsuaga argues for a direct and respectful approach to self-knowledge.
The author invites honest reflection
When asked about the beauty of the human body relative to other animals, Arsuaga suggested that many would hesitate to claim superiority. In his view, the Greeks judged humanity by its own standards, emphasizing both physical and mental beauty as essential to a good life. The setting at a prominent art venue framed the book’s presentation, inviting an open dialogue about how people perceive body aesthetics. Arsuaga encouraged readers to consider whether their sense of beauty aligns with historical ideals or current sensibilities, challenging a fixed notion of what is beautiful.