It was shortly before Christmas in 1 982. I was about halfway through my chief residency year in urologic surgery at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. It was customary that faculty members would give holiday gifts to the residents at the traditional holiday party. The gifts were usually perfunctory, an obligation, but nothing beyond that. Concert tickets or tickets to a nice restaurant were the standard fare.
However, that year, the chief of urology, Ben Gittes, distributed very personal gifts to each resident. Some received books, others a surgical instrument or a photograph of the hospital. However, when Doctor Gittes reached my chair, he handed me a rather large box wrapped in red and green striped paper. It was quite heavy so I placed it on the table next to my chair and began to unwrap it. There it was, totally unexpected, a reproduction of Rodin’s famous sculpture, The Thinker. I knew what it was but somewhat flummoxed, I thanked Doctor Gittes for the gift. I remembered thinking to myself, “Is he sending me a message?”
For the next forty-two years, every time I moved during my career, the sculpture came with me. Some framed certificates and awards were jettisoned through the years as victims of increasing office clutter. The Thinker remained, some years sitting on my desk, other times on a bookshelf. I would glance at it and think of Ben but not much else.
However, now with the luxury of time that only retirement provides, I have begun to reflect more deeply on the gift.
What Did Rodin Mean?
Let me state now, unequivocally, that I am not any kind of an art expert or scholar. I was a science major in college but always enjoyed art; and in many ways, was self-educated in that domain. In my junior year in college, due to the Viet Nam war protests, my university enacted a quasi-shutdown where grades were all reduced to pass/fail and class attendance was optional. As a typical pre-med student unalterably fixated on my GPA, this was a welcome respite. I began to audit classes that were not in my comfort zone, specifically some art and music classes.
During my residency training, a portion of which took place in New York City, I would find escape for relaxation at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I mention this personal history to emphasize how casual and superficial my art education was. So, now in my dotage, I can make up for my previous lack of expertise.
So what was Rodin thinking when he created The Thinker? Originally, The Thinker was part of a larger work, as part of his monumental project for the doors of a new museum in Paris. Rodin was given the commission in 1880 but never finished the doors. The portal, was to be known as the Gates of Hell and was inspired by The Inferno of the Divine Comedy, written by Dante Alighieri.
The plan was for the gates to be part of gigantic bronze doors over 1 9 feet high. Rodin’s intent was for the Gates of Hell to be chaotic with over 180 writhing figures framing the entrance. (Figure 1) The museum was never built, but Rodin turned many of these figures into separate works of art. His original intent, apparently, was to have The Thinker overlooking the tortured souls while pondering their fate. Art historians have speculated that The Thinker is considering the fate of the human soul and perhaps the meaning of life itself.
Rodin cast The Thinker as a separate bronze sculpture in 1888 and a larger version in 1904. He originally called his work, The Poet to acknowledge Dante Alighieri; but over time, he renamed it, The Thinker as an allegorical figure representing thought and reflection. Over the following decades, at least 40 casts of the sculpture have been made and reside in museums and private collections around the world. (Figure 2)
What Did Gittes mean?
So what was Ben Gittes thinking when he gave me the gift in 1982? During my career, I came to the conclusion that there are two kinds of surgical chiefs- those who are empowered by the achievements of those around them and those who are threatened by them. Ben was clearly one of the former. An illustration of his support and pride in my career occurred years later when he drove up from San Diego to hear me deliver a lecture in Los Angeles. He didn’t offer words of congratulations; his presence said it all. Ben, himself, was a “thinker” and wanted his residents to be thinkers as well. I remember when residents would present cases with complicated options to him, he could quickly get to the quiddity of the issues. So, during all my moves throughout a lifetime, The Thinker, always came with me and so did my memory of Ben.
Auguste Rodin and Ben Gittes both delivered unspoken messages. A thoughtful, contemplative life is a well-lived life. Contemplation represents our true humanity. Whether a museum visitor reflects silently on Rodin’s sculpture or a surgeon contemplates treatment options for a patient, it is contemplation that distinguishes us from the beasts, human and otherwise.
A Christmas gift from over four decades ago, still sits on my desk. And the lessons endure.
Figure 1 : The Gates Of Hell by Auguste Rodin Figure 2: The Thinker by Auguste Rodin
Kevin R. Loughlin MD is a retired urologic surgeon. He enjoys writing, reading history and biography and swimming.
Kevin R. Loughlin MD is a retired urologic surgeon. He enjoys writing, reading history and biography and swimming.
