Museum of Horrors hidden in the catacombs of the Complutense Faculty of Medicine

The warning lets us off the hook. From the front we see a face that seems to follow us with its gaze: it is deformed and has a huge black ulcer on its forehead. Maruri almost guesses our thoughts and brings us out of our reverie: “It’s wax, huh?” It’s good that you remember this. “It represents syphilitic necrosis of a middle-aged man,” he completed. The ‘piece’ in question is part of this picturesque museum’s collection: over six hundred life-size models used over a century and a half to show medical students the symptoms of various skin diseases. “It was the most faithful thing to reality. Furthermore, in many cases the molds were made on the patients themselves,” says Aranda.

Today we are walking between medical and artistic gems, albeit a little dark. foot with ringworm on one side; On the other hand, the scrotum is filled with fistula and with a somewhat esoteric mystery. “When we analyzed the pubic hair under the microscope, we saw that it was real.” It was very likely that it was the patients,” Aranda revealed. However molds and nineteenth-century hair are not the only treasures hidden in the Olavid Museum. the model that guides Pablo Lazaro Ochaita It also contains centuries-old documents – the history of each patient who worked to illuminate the fragments; Medical books and period materials. In Maruri’s words, “a unique collection in the world”, which is painful to see in damp cellars where rainwater collects.

unknown talent

It’s time to start the journey, and we do it in front of the portrait of the genius with whom it all started: jose eugenio de olavide, A mustachioed man from Madrid who completed his medical studies in 1858. Maruri and Aranda know him well; And not to mention… they’ve been researching his work for two decades! “He studied from books that barely had pictures; At that time, text was the only basis for knowing about diseases,” says Pratham. When the good doctor began working at the San Juan de Dios hospital – home to the capital’s poorest incurable and infectious patients – he realized that the real symptoms had nothing to do with the ones he had imagined. .

Olavide attacked the problem in two ways. The first was to create a huge atlas that included all the skin diseases known to date. By the way, that work is displayed under a glass case in the museum. “The second was to do the same, but in three dimensions. Since the San Juan de Dios Hospital was a reference in dermatology, it began to produce wax representations, allowing students to see how different diseases affected the body. The result was this seroplasty or ‘moulage,'” says Maruri. The solution provided color, texture, and kept the students from disturbing the sick. In turn, it required the talent and expertise of a good sculptor.

We go to a new room, where a clay mold is lying on the table. The curator points this out, she knows it is the heart of everything: «There were many ways to create the pieces. Sculpting the patient from clay was the least invasive. “They put plaster over it and took out a ‘negative’ which was then filled with wax.” The Mazazcotte that he presents before us is one of those castes. The second was more spartan: applying fresh plaster to the patient’s diseased skin to create a mold. Aranda says the results were very accurate, but at the cost of some fear: “When they applied this technique to a syphilis patient who had an ulcer on his hip, the heat of the plaster caused the abscess to open.” The record was clear: “There was no need to cut them.”

disease artist

The facilities are generous; The benefits of getting lost in college basements. At the end of the hallway, on the left, a small room recreates a 19th-century hospital office. And, around this, three paintings recall those who were the executive hands of Olavid and his successors in office: virtuosos of clay and plaster. The most prolific was the one who paved the way: Enrique Zofio, “He made 420 figures, which is about 70% of the collection,” explains Aranda. In his own favor, the orthodox points out the other in dispute, jose barta, “He died in 1955 and has about two hundred pieces to his credit,” he insists. The latest, rafael lopez“He dedicated himself to the maintenance because the photography was already much better, although he also signed some.”

All of them shaped this disease to endure into eternity with a realism that seems terrifying today. It is represented by ‘moulage’ with a unique accent: the torso of a woman with hundreds of small tumors scattered across her torso and arms. Aranda pauses in front of the display case: “Her name was Teresa and she arrived at the hospital in 1880. Her case was so remarkable that it was published in a renowned scientific journal.” The article still shocks: “The explosions (…) give to the individual as a whole the most disgusting appearance that can be seen in our species.” The woman, despised by society, saw the experts’ interest as a blessing. “Only when she went to the hospital did she feel love from the doctors,” explains the curator. Perhaps this is why the artist put a smile on his face.

Of course, Teresa seems much happier than the next task presented to us by our guides. In the middle of one of the central chambers is the figure of a child in fetal position. His face is full of pain and sadness. “What are those brown scabs?” we asked. And Aranda comes forward: “It’s ringworm, it affected this girl because of the state of malnutrition she was in.” In his case, she says, there was no fairy tale ending: “No matter how well they treated him, he died shortly thereafter.” And, unfortunately, this was the fate of a large part of the patients who were immortalized in wax for the Olavid Museum: death.

packaging

We walked out of the showroom with many idle eyes following us. Let patients rest. The final part of the tour takes us to the restoration workshop; However, to get it – oh, surprise! – You must once again enter the icy corridors of Pavilion 8. The question is inevitable: “How did this medical and artistic treasure get here?” Maruri and Aranda smile. There have been many twists and turns in this. Another shows, “From 1882 he was at the San Juan de Dios Hospital in Atocha, but he moved to Doctor Esquerdo’s new headquarters in 1897.” Apparently, the clinic had to be moved because neighbors felt it was inappropriate that so many prostitutes were treated inside. It remained there until 1966, when the center closed its doors.

What happened next would fill an encyclopedia. As the hospital’s closing approached, the final sculptor, Rafael López, was assigned to pack up all the materials. According to Aranda, he did what he could with a budget of 100,000 pesetas: «He put the pieces in wooden boxes. “We know that there was a certain looting, because about thirty objects made by him went missing.” The collection was forgotten in an annex building and remained that way for three decades. The voice of current conservatives changes as they remember; It becomes more sad and disappointing. Fortunately, there were people who fought to bring the museum back to life. One of them, isabel julian, Other, Luis Conde-Salazar, He explains, “The latter first published some works for the Ibero-Latin American Congress of Dermatology in 1987.”

There is silence for a while. Today we’re asking ourselves: “And when did your life fall to pieces?” The immediate reaction is another smile. “Some were first performed in the year 2000.” Forensic Museum of the Faculty of Medicine», says Aranda. doctor jose manuel reverte coma He, along with his students, was in charge of restoring some data that he had obtained with the help of a colleague, Antonio García Pérez. Maruri completed his colleague: «We helped with conservation, in 2005, they took us to general stores. We found a museum packed in 200 wooden boxes. There we began reforms under the leadership of Conde-Salazar, now the director. And they have been that way for almost two decades, as will be said shortly.

Since then, the Olavide Museum, today in the hands of the Spanish Academy of Dermatology and Venereology, has suffered even greater decline. It has passed through furniture storage, dilapidated buildings… thus, until it ended up in these cellars where we step today. An area that doesn’t benefit the pieces much. “The temperature is not high enough, there is humidity, we have faced floods, insect infestations…” says Maruri. This is the darkest face of a museum that struggles not to fall into oblivion. Because, although currently an email is enough to make an appointment and see it, its curators dream of making it accessible to the general public.

Thus we end our journey today. However, before saying goodbye, we asked our guides for one last favor: “Come with us to the exit, it is impossible to find your way out here.” All the best to the Olavide Museum, because it deserves it.