Goar: Glimpse into a lonely, hidden world
May 24, 2010That would be a perfect opportunity to see House Calls, a powerful new exhibition that just opened.
The museum wants everyone to come, regardless of income, education or social status. And this is one show that cuts across every stratum.
It is a Toronto doctor's photo essay of elderly Canadians trapped in their homes and forsaken by the health-care system. They're too frail or disabled to get to a physician's office. And physicians are too busy to come to them.
Dr. Mark Nowaczynski is the exception. He makes house calls. When he began the practice, 12 years ago, he hoped to set an example other doctors would follow. But almost none budged from their offices, so he resorted to his non-medical skills, seeking to become an agent of change.
Today, he carries his black bag and his old-fashioned camera on his daily rounds. By day, he heals infirm bodies and relieves the ache of loneliness. In the evening, he advocates for his patients with poignant anecdotes, stark photos and a vision that puts people — especially those who have no voice — back at the centre of health care.
Every journalist who has met Nowaczynski — including me — has been moved to tell his story. But his photos speak far more cogently than our words. Thirty-six of them are on display in a small second-floor gallery of the Royal Ontario Museum until Oct. 11.
The opening of the exhibition was an understated affair. A couple of Nowaczynski's patients managed to get there. A contingent of friends, associates and supporters was on hand. So were a few of the journalists the personable 51-year-old doctor has met along the way.
By museum standards, it was a downscale crowd. But William Thorsell, the ROM's chief executive, hosted the event like a proud impresario. He talked about the genesis of the exhibition and the reason it mattered.
He learned about Nowaczynski from a friend who works at the National Film Board. Director Ian McLeod invited him to screen an award-winning documentary he had made. It showed the Toronto doctor visiting his patients and immortalizing the way they lived.
Thorsell had heard of the physician with a mission. But he didn't know Nowaczynski was an accomplished photographer. “I asked him to bring in his portfolio.”
As soon as he saw the portraits, he knew they were museum quality. They combined artistry and advocacy in a way that begged to be seen.
He invited Nowaczynski to mount a photo display. For the crusading doctor, it was an opportunity to reach thousands. “You are not looking at an exotic species in another world,” he told museum patrons. “You are looking at your future.”
Some medical professionals consider Nowaczynski's photos exploitative. They may not be pretty, but they're deeply respectful. They convey the quiet fortitude of a generation that grew up during the Great Depression, fought in World War II, worked doggedly and asked nothing in return.
Moreover, every portrait was taken with the willing consent of the patient.
The exhibition delivers multiple messages. It challenges young doctors to revive a tradition that never should have died. It forces health-care bureaucrats to acknowledge that the rush to schedule more high-volume procedures and produce more measurable results is leaving those who built this country behind. And it offers the public a rare glimpse into the keepsake-stuffed apartments and rundown homes where seniors live, fearing institutionalization as much as death.
Take an hour to see the display. Ask yourself if this could be your grandparent or parent — or someday you.
Carol Goar's column appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
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