Kinoshita Mokutarō may be unfamiliar to younger readers, and perhaps even to some dermatologists. Yet he is none other than Masao Ota—the very Ota of Nevus of Ota (a name so fundamental that not knowing it might almost disqualify one as a dermatologist).
As for the life of Masao Ota, two dermatologists once published a series of biographical essays in The Journal of Clinical Dermatology.
Professor Kenichi Ueno (Professor Emeritus, University of Tsukuba) authored “Mokutarō: Gleanings” (2009–2013). After his passing in 2013, Professor Tomomichi Ono (Professor Emeritus, Kumamoto University) continued with “Masao Ota / Kinoshita Mokutarō — Global and Humanistic” (2013–2017).
From the opening of Professor Ono’s biography:
Masao Ota (1885–1945) is the Ota of Nevus of Ota. He succeeded Keizō Dohi as Professor of Dermatology at the Tokyo Imperial University. He was also known as a poet, playwright, translator, and scholar of Christianity, engaging in a wide range of intellectual pursuits. His literary works were written under the pen name Kinoshita Mokutarō…
As mentioned previously, the title of this blog was inspired by Professor Ueno’s “Gleanings.” I have already written about Masao Ota as a medical scientist. At that time, I noted that I hoped someday to write about Kinoshita Mokutarō as well. However, I soon realized that such a task far exceeds my abilities.
Rather than writing something inadequate, it seems far better for readers to encounter Mokutarō directly—through his collected works, poetry, and paintings.
Young physicians, perhaps during a quiet moment between duties, might set aside their medical textbooks and take down an old dermatology volume to read these essays.
If one comes to understand Masao Ota as a man of culture, even the reading of dermoscopy or histopathology texts on Nevus of Ota may acquire a new depth of feeling.
Even for those outside medicine, encountering the poetry of Mokutarō’s youth or the Hyakka-fu may reveal the rare breadth of his talent.
(Needless to say, as a dermatologist he was also of the highest rank. There is scarcely a textbook in the world that does not mention Nevus of Ota. In France, he was awarded the Légion d’honneur for his work on mycology, and he was at the forefront of Hansen’s disease research. Yet, at his sixtieth birthday celebration, he reportedly remarked that he had accomplished nothing since coming to Tokyo Imperial University.
It is often said that heaven does not bestow two gifts upon one person—but in Ota’s case, it seems to have granted two or even three. Perhaps because of this abundance of talent, he lived with a certain uncertainty, carrying throughout his life a sense of incompleteness.)
In recent times, under the COVID-19 pandemic, people have lived in prolonged restraint for more than a year. “Stay home” has been widely advocated, and there are reports that new variants are bringing further waves of infection.
Although the times and circumstances are entirely different, the sense of confinement today may, in some way, resonate with Mokutarō’s final years during wartime.
The Hyakka-fu consists of 872 botanical sketches that Mokutarō produced during the last years of his life—from March 1943 until July 1945, the year of his death. From these, Daigorō Sawayanagi selected one hundred plates.
The series begins with a drawing of mansaku (witch hazel) dated March 10, 1943, and ends with a mountain lily on July 27, 1945. On the final sheet is an inscription:
“July 27, 1945. Gastric spasmodic pain persists. Confined at home. Yasuda and Hiruma brought this flower; I later sketched it. Fortune falters.”
After this, he never again took up the brush. Three weeks later came Japan’s defeat, and on October 15 of that year—just over two months after his sixtieth birthday—he passed away.
The subjects are mainly modest wild plants found along roadsides or within everyday surroundings. Showy flowers that might adorn a florist’s display are almost entirely absent.
These drawings were made at night, during wartime blackouts and continuous air raids, in brief moments after long days of official duties. What state of mind did they reflect?
Professor Ono suggests that although there may have been a practical motive—to compile edible plants as a guide during food shortages—one can sense, behind the Hyakka-fu, Mokutarō’s deeply restrained anger.
He further reflects that, when considered alongside his diaries, Mokutarō may have recorded severe criticisms of the war by day, while at night, in a state of quiet absorption, he turned to the wild plants of the day in search of inner peace.
There is also a recollection of words he spoke to medical students in an air-raid shelter:
Are you studying? Precisely in times like these, you must study.
“If one hears the Way in the morning, one may die in the evening without regret.”
Now we are placed in just such a situation.
But merely accumulating knowledge turns one into a monster of knowledge. That will not do. What matters is how knowledge can serve humanity. That requires wisdom. And how does one learn wisdom? By engaging with the classics. Within them lies the accumulated wisdom of humankind.
Having said this, Mokutarō rose and departed like a passing gust of wind.
It is in extreme circumstances that the true worth of a person is revealed. In Mokutarō, one sees the embodiment of a figure both global and humanistic—almost Goethean in spirit.
These days, I sometimes find myself gazing at the Hyakka-fu, wishing to touch, however slightly, the thoughts that lay behind it.
The series begins with the flower of mansaku. There are also notes referring to the death of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto. The drawings are delicate and precise; even professional botanical illustrators have remarked on the remarkable accuracy of his draftsmanship.
Sawayanagi writes:
Even if the number of 872 drawings and their selection were partly accidental, the Hyakka-fu forms a complete and unified whole. To select one hundred from it is not merely difficult—it borders on the impossible. The result would differ depending on whether the selector were a botanist or an artist, and if there were multiple selectors, at least a third of the choices would likely remain disputed. I found the task entrusted to me exceedingly difficult.
It is, of course, impossible for me to select even a few from such a body of work. Nevertheless, I have dared to present several here. I hope you will take a moment to appreciate the delicacy of his brushwork.
If you wish, please also refer to my previous blog posts.
English version prepared with AI assistance
(Originally written in Japanese)
Japanese version:
https://hifuka-otibo-hiroi.net/木下杢太郎-百花譜 百選/