Once you see it, its hard to take your eyes off of it. It’s just a black-and-white etching and graving attributed to the sixteenth-century Spanish artist Gaspar Becerra now in the Royal Academy of Arts, London. Dated 1556, it is accurately entitled “A flayed man holding his own skin.” And there he is, knife in his left hand, all his muscles distinct labeled as in any good illustration of human anatomy, the largest organ of his body – his skin – held head high, draped over his right hand, and hanging to below the knees. The man’s gaze is riveted on what used to cover him and what all of us care for passionately – skin. Becerra’s flayed man appears to have been the inspiration (if not the model to copy) for one of the exhibits on display at Body Worlds, the traveling exhibit of plasticized human bodies.
Our nine pounds of skin provides a study in contrasts and wondrous construction. Gently feel the soft suppleness of cheek, neck, or shoulder, contrasting their texture to the hard cornified resistance of heel, ball of foot, or elbow. Look how the skin between your thumb and index finger is wrinkled and folded compared to how it’s stretched tightly over the nose, hip, or bicep. Note the relative insensitivity of skin to touch on the thigh or inside the arm as opposed to the extreme sensitivity of finger tips, lips, or around the eyes. Hairy places and hairless places, oily places and dry places, thick and thin, darkly pigmented and nonpigmented, places that can’t sweat, places that won’t stop sweating – the list goes on and on.
Our skin has so many crucial functions that losing even a small percentage of it is life-threatening. It gives us protection from dying out, giving control of body temperature, acts as a barrier to bacteria and pathogens that would consume us, and has a vast array of sensors for touch, pressure, hot, cold, and injury. Another important function of this marvelous organ, I believe, is communion with others, especially those nearest and dearest. Whether cruel or loving, skin-to-skin contact communicates powerfully. The hateful slap to the face or punch in the stomach is the same in every langage. Skin-to-skin contact is the first meaningful communication that a baby experiences, the medium for the strongest of human interactions and bonding, as well as the last hand squeeze or soothing touch for the dying. How does my skin communicate to those around me?