SETO, Aichi Prefecture--When he found an unusual ceramic statue in an old warehouse here, Yoshitomo Nakamura had a mystery to solve.

Why was it created and by whom?

The statue depicts a group of adults around a sick child in exquisite detail. It carries a dark, somber tone. 

The novelty was uncovered by Nakamura, 70, a former director at Japan Broadcasting Corp. (NHK), who lives in Seto.

Despite its age, the item provides new insights into model doctors and modern society.

RELIC FROM SETO’S RICH PAST

Exporting novelty items was the core industry of Seto from the Taisho Era (1912-1926) through the 1970s. Although there were 300 companies making that type of goods during the peak period, only a few remain today.

Ninety percent of novelties produced there were shipped outside Japan and garnered high praise in the United States and Europe. However, a very small number of local people know about the once-thriving industry.

Nakamura, the head of the Seto Novelty Culture Preservation Society, which was founded in 2008 by novelty fans and others, discovered the dark-colored statue in March this year on the second floor of a storehouse of an old factory where the floorboards creak.

It was found on one of the shelves lined with thousands of carelessly placed works deep in the plant.

Measuring 30 centimeters wide, 20 cm long and 20 cm tall, the large ceramic creation shows the child of a poor family lying down, the crying mother, the father with his hand on his wife’s shoulder and a doctor in contemplation.

Even such details as facial wrinkles and dust on the floor were carefully recreated, meaning that the ware’s style is different from that of other ceramics on the shelves modeled after a dress-attired noblewoman and a lovely film star.

As its base bears the title “The Doctor,” Nakamura found that the object was created based on a painting of the same name drawn in 1891 by British painter Luke Fildes to portray the true story of a physician attending to a severely ill boy in Scotland.

The artwork’s reputation spread in Britain, and it was thus turned into a copperplate print, with millions of copies sold in the United States. A version printed on a postage stamp was also released.

Around that time, the gap between rich and poor was big in Britain and the United States, making it difficult for ordinary individuals to receive proper health care.

As there were no advanced medical technologies, the devoted doctor’s agonizing with the patient’s family is said to have generated a huge response and has been described as a model physician.

Fildes, who lost his own child due to typhoid fever, reportedly surveyed the doctor’s story in Scotland by himself and created a model at his home for completing the painting.

CRAFTSMAN BEHIND CERAMIC

The novelty was manufactured in 1974 at the order of a U.S. trading firm, and Nakamura identified the craftsman who painted the work. The painter was Katsuyoshi Oka, 78, who hails from Niigata Prefecture and continues working at a gloomy, deserted studio that once produced goods in large numbers.

Oka said “The Doctor” is one of countless products he made as a craftsman based on requests, and that he has “no special memories of it” in an emotionless tone.

“I added color to the work based on a provided image,” Oka said. “Depicting the facial expressions was difficult.”

He recalled that advanced techniques were used to create its 30 parts separately as well as to later assemble and bake them. Oka also explained other processes to finish the ceramic item.

REMINDER OF THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC

Nakamura learned that the original painting inspired Britain to introduce the National Health Service (NHS) to offer free medical care following the end of World War II. He sought to share the story with Christopher McHugh, 44, a British ceramist, who become his friend when he stayed in Seto.

McHugh currently lives in Belfast in Northern Ireland.

After a while, Nakamura received a reply from McHugh. In the letter, McHugh wrote that the painting and ceramic work reminded him of doctors now risking their lives to deal with the novel coronavirus, which has killed more than 40,000 people in Britain--the highest in Europe.

McHugh also stated that he is concerned about the future of the NHS, because there are discussions about privatizing the system.

Both in Japan and Britain, the domestic ceramic industries are struggling to compete with their cheaper counterparts from outside the countries.

But Nakamura said he believes the commercial success is not the only value of ceramic productions, given that “The Doctor,” found in a corner of the warehouse, led Nakamura and McHugh to recognize the depth of exchanges of different cultures again and rethink what society should be like.

“It can be said that the new coronavirus pandemic made me become aware of the importance of the work,” said Nakamura.

Nakamura is planning to release a book about novelty goods and include the letter from McHugh in his publication.

* * *

The letter from Christopher McHugh follows:

“The Doctor--From Painting to Figurine”

Sir Luke Fildes’ painting, The Doctor (1891), depicts a Victorian general practitioner sitting vigil over a sick boy, while his distraught parents are shown helpless in the background. Commissioned by Sir Henry Tate in 1890, the painting was offered as a gift to the nation in 1897 and now forms part of the Tate’s collection of British Art. Soon after its first display at the Royal Academy, it was reproduced as an engraving by Agnew’s, selling over one million copies in the U.S.A. alone.

In the time of an incurable coronavirus, this portrayal of patient-centered medical diligence and compassion seems more prescient and relevant than ever. When The Doctor was painted, modern scientific medicine was in its infancy. The National Health Service, Britain’s unprecedented Post-War project to provide free health care for all, would not be established for another 57 years. While the Victorian period saw many advances in medical science, access to treatment at this time depended largely upon one’s wealth and social class. Indeed, it is unlikely, yet not inconceivable, that a Victorian doctor would have visited the impoverished cottage shown in the idealized painting. This was before the advent of antibiotics and antiviral drugs. Having exhausted all options for treatment, all Fildes’ doctor can do is sit in hope at the boy’s side.

Today, doctors and nurses in NHS hospitals across Britain are faced with a similar sense of helplessness in the face of a formidable adversary. With no viable drug treatment and scarce supplies of personal protective equipment, care for critical COVID-19 patients sometimes must seem like an act of faith as much as an application of scientific method. The Doctor reminds us of the age-old necessity for compassionate care and the importance of a mutually empathetic relationship between medical professionals and their patients.

Just as Fildes presents his doctor as a romanticized and self-less hero, doctors, nurses and other essential workers in Britain today are being portrayed in the press as foot soldiers in a titanic struggle against darkness and chaos. Prime Minister Boris Johnson, himself afflicted by coronavirus, described the NHS as Britain’s ‘beating heart,’ invoking wartime rhetoric to ‘enlist’ us in the fight. With routine operations and procedures suspended, the NHS has become a gargantuan coronavirus treatment machine. Taking on the appearance of an almost quasi-religious entity, the doctors and nurses have become martyrs who are beyond criticism or rebuke. Every Thursday night at 8 p.m., people across Britain venture out of their front doors to clap for the NHS in a heartwarming, yet disturbing, ritual of communal gratitude.

What would The Doctor look like if Fildes painted it today? For a start, the doctor would be wearing a gown, gloves, visor and mask (but only if he could get his hands on them!). Instead of a child, there would most likely be an older person attached to a ventilator. The mother and father, whose anguish is an important aspect of the original, would not be allowed near the hospital for fear of transmission. Saying goodbye to a dying relative digitally through FaceTime or similar (videotelephony), while a nurse holds their hand, is becoming the so-called ‘new normal.’

That Fildes’ painting was reinterpreted as a ceramic novelty figurine by designers and craftspeople in Seto some 45 years ago shows the enduring and universal appeal of its message. It also testifies to the breadth of Seto’s manufacturing knowhow, where the whole gamut of Western visual and popular culture was reimagined in affordable ceramic forms for the export market. This process of transformation from a Victorian painting and engraving into a mass-produced three dimensional ceramic figurine also demonstrates Seto’s Post-War global outlook and agility. This is an extraordinary journey of imagination across culture and time, linking commissioners, designers, and individual crafts people. As a British ceramicist who has spent much time in Seto, I am acutely aware of the range of high level skills involved in realizing such a piece.

A visit to the sample store of the novelty Factory will reveal serried ranks of novelty figurines of all shapes and sizes, languishing in the dark and dust as silent embodiments of human endeavor, tacit skill and global capitalism. The discovery of The Doctor figurine in this store shows the importance of this archive, as well as the vital nature of the work of the Seto Novelty Culture Preservation Society in attempting to preserve this shared history. Who knows when these novelties will emerge from the dark, acquiring new resonance and relevance in the face of world events? Speaking selfishly, I cannot wait until the coronavirus subsides and I am able to visit Seto again to meet my friends and explore this important heritage site further.

Not only does The Doctor figurine carry the original caring message of the painting, its rediscovery also shows us the importance of global collaboration and understanding in an era when local and national interests are being prioritized. While self-isolation may become the ‘new-normal’ for the foreseeable future, the story of Seto’s novelty industry teaches us this is not a time to retreat from the world. While the globalization which facilitated Seto’s success may have contributed to this pandemic, it can only be solved through local action guided by a global vision.

The British government and public would do well to reacquaint themselves with Fildes’ painting. The Doctor was painted at a time when advances in medicine were being questioned by Romanticism’s skepticism of science and its belief in the primacy of the individual. Today, we find ourselves bereft and humbled by nature. In a world where the president of the U.S.A. is promoting quack cures over science, and libertarians are advocating individual freedom and economic gain over communal safety, we need Fildes’ message more than ever. Speaking from a Post-Brexit Britain, governed by free-market zealots where everything is for sale, The Doctor reminds us to resist a return to a Victorian dark age where access to medicine is seen as a commodity rather than a fundamental human right.