I recently spent a holiday in Itō. My main purpose was to visit the Kinoshita Mokutarō Memorial Museum. I had tried to go there once before when I visited Itō, but unfortunately it was closed that day, and I had to leave without entering—something I had long regretted. This time, I was finally able to fulfill that wish.
I arrived on Sunday evening, and although the following day was Monday—normally a closing day—the museum was open because it was a public holiday. As a result, I was able to take my time and visit over two days. Moreover, I was the only visitor (aside from one brief visitor on Monday), and I could look at the photographs and materials at my leisure. Even so, I only managed to grasp the surface.
According to the museum’s own materials:
“The Itō Municipal Kinoshita Mokutarō Memorial Museum was opened in October 1985 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the birth of Kinoshita Mokutarō (real name: Masao Ōta), a physician who also achieved distinction across a wide range of fields including poetry, literature, and the fine arts. The museum displays and makes available materials related to his life and work, contributing to the promotion of education and culture.
The building itself dates from 1907 (Meiji 40) and is registered as a Tangible Cultural Property of Japan. Its exterior features traditional earthen storehouse construction with namako walls, evoking the passage of time and drawing the viewer in. At the rear of the museum stands his birthplace, built in 1835 (Tenpō 6), preserved in its original state. It is the oldest surviving private house in Itō and is designated as a municipal cultural property.”
I have written about Kinoshita Mokutarō several times on my blog before, so I will not repeat myself here. Yet each time I encounter the traces of his life, I am struck anew and cannot help but sigh in admiration. One is compelled to reflect on how richly endowed a single person can be with diverse talents—and to feel, again and again, how regrettable it is that he died relatively young (though at sixty, perhaps not so young for his time).
I have often wondered how he himself regarded these many talents. While leafing through the materials this time, I came across a passage that seemed to offer a glimpse into that question:
“In my present thinking, I see no need to assign hierarchical value among the various forms of spiritual culture—science, art, literature, religion, and so on. Nor do I regard the novel, drama, or the plastic arts as something separate—something merely refined, or for amusement, or limited to special talents, or serving as ornamentation for an age.
…
For me, creation is a necessary function of life itself. Those who reproach me for writing novels are, in effect, denying a part of my life; in the end, they become enemies of my very existence.”
These words, written in the postscript to Karakusa Hyōshi (1915), may well be applied to the entirety of Mokutarō’s richly multifaceted life. Not only his fiction, but also his medical research, his investigations into the history of Christianity in Japan, his poetry, his ink paintings—only a small portion of which are included in his collected works—and even his late masterpiece Hyakkafu (“Album of One Hundred Flowers”) were surely expressions of an inner necessity.
Although he did not pursue painting as a profession—so that, in a strict sense, one might call his work literati painting—his poetry and painting were not merely “pastimes” in the usual sense. Even when light and playful, especially in their elegant wit, they were not idle diversions but integral parts of a serious life.
According to Dr. Katsumoto (Masaaki), Mokutarō would often remark, half in jest, that God had bestowed upon him too many talents, leaving him at a loss as to how to manage them. Criticism that he failed to devote himself to a single pursuit misses the point. Rather, what deserves attention is how he could begin from a passing curiosity—such as an interest in “Southern Barbarian” (Nanban) culture—and deepen it into meticulous historical research on Christianity in Japan, or elevate a youthful inclination into the exquisitely subtle artistic realm of works like Hyakkafu, surpassing even professional painters.
Kinoshita Mokutarō Memorial Museum
Kinoshita Mokutarō