Exploring the theme of nudity has always been my desire, especially since I didn't have the opportunity to do so when I was younger. As art historian Kenneth Clark distinguishes, being naked simply means being without clothes, while the nude is a form of art. Despite this distinction, traditional Chinese culture often views nude figures as obscene due to conservative attitudes toward sexuality. Growing up in Asia, open discussions about sex were rare. I remember learning about the differences between males and females in kindergarten, which sparked my curiosity about sexuality. One day, I drew nude figures at home, only to be met with alarm from my mother, who urged me to depict other subjects. This experience, combined with my first visit to an art museum where I encountered nude figures in paintings, ignited my fascination with the beauty of the human body. Yet, throughout my childhood, discussions of sex and nudity remained repressed, leaving me feeling ashamed for being attracted to sexual content in newspapers or online. During puberty, I often felt embarrassed about the physical changes happening in my own body. My perspective evolved during my time working in a hospital. There, I frequently encountered the genitals of both sexes while performing nursing tasks. I no longer viewed genitals as pornographic. Instead, I came to see them as essential parts of the human body and appreciated the beauty of figures in their entirety. Most importantly, I learned to value my own body, taking time each day to look in the mirror after bathing and observe any changes. In this drawing, I aim to express the beauty of human figures. However, my search for reference images online was frustrating, as I encountered a predominance of erotic photos, particularly of women with large breasts, even when using "non-erotic" as a keyword. This objectification reduces women to mere tools for sexual gratification, which I found deeply concerning. Eventually, I decided to depict human figures using athlete photos for reference. During the creative process, the sharp contours of the body stirred memories of my anatomy studies in nursing education. Names like biceps and gluteus muscles floated into my mind. I was amazed to realise that these diverse muscles also exist within my own body, though they are often obscured by layers of fat. I deliberately left the genitals of the figures in the painting blank, as I could not find appropriate reference images. This choice serves as a silent protest against the overwhelming pornographic content in society. After finishing the painting, I contemplated it deeply. I appreciate the fluidity and physical fitness of the figures. Their overall presentation prompts me to reflect on societal standards of beauty concerning body sizes. Nudity has appeared in many artworks throughout history, from Botticelli's The Birth of Venus to Paul Cézanne's Bathers. I discovered an interesting fact: muscular male bodies consistently represent masculinity and are perceived as desirable. During the Renaissance, for instance, male figures were idealised with muscles and perfect body ratios. In contrast, societal preferences for female bodies have fluctuated over time. In Titian's Venus of Urbino, women with round bellies were once considered feminine and attractive, likely due to the fertility suggested by such features. Today, many people prefer women with slim waists. Despite this difference, women remain subjects of the male gaze. With the sexual features obscured, I wonder: do people still appreciate the nude figures I portray?