I’m smoking a Ciseron right now, one of my favorite of the Oscar Valladares blends. I picked it because I noticed the paper copy of his artwork that is wrapped by hand around each cigar. All Ciseron cigars come in one size -Toro. The difference is that there are five different cigar-themed bands that are the exact duplicate of original works previously painted on canvas – freehand style – by the Central American contemporary artist – Elmer Ciseron Bautista. His style is an amalgamation of artists, including Miró, Picasso, KAWS (Brian Donnelly), and a tad bit of Mondrian. He’s partial to primary colors (yellow, blue, red, black, purple, orange, and green), and the subject matter is in some way or another a figurative depiction of an individual or group of individuals, smoking a cigar. (He paints other subjects as well.)
Now, this is not the first time art has been used to adorn cigar bands. But it may be one of the few times that contemporary art is used as the band itself, and in blazing glory on the box. The large band covers almost the entire cigar and the box art matches the band and is reminiscent of the Warholian silkscreen technique. This marriage is most likely the brainchild of Oscar Valladares – he of The Leaf phenomenon. (I’m guessing here on where the idea originated.)
So what’s the point? Classic assimilation. It’s different and Ciseron himself, who has had very little exposure in the United States, has since morphed into a recognizable artist in his own right – as has the cigar. Classic marketing. Even though I paid attention to the artwork, I was more attracted to the bold figures and colors Bautista uses in all of his works for Oscar. Ergo, his signature – if you will allow me that kitschy cliché.
(Man do I have a headache. I did yard work all day and I’m recovering in the garage wearing soggy sweats. I wear sweats because then the branches can’t rip my skin apart. Ha! Yes, blood red is a primary color, but I prefer to see it on paper and not dripping from a cut on my arm.)
Funny what I notice. For instance, the Ciseron band has been removed and the only smell I identify with right now is the sour remnant of the sulfur from the matches I used to light up the cigar. Yes, I still use matches. Classic.
Like Woodstock, one of the most famous music festivals ever produced – a classic. When Joe Cocker came to the stage at 2 pm on Sunday, he was a vocalist with a single top hit just one year before whose gravelly voice made him stand out. And, when the tinny background voices that were barely heard above the crowd sang “Do you need anybody?” they were followed by that, that awesome, passionate, emotionally-explosive Joe Cocker scream! An instantly unforgettable classic crescendo. Never still, his body moved in such a way one would think he was having an epileptic fit that added to his indelible paragon in the Rock ‘n Roll classic frame (sic). As Joe aged, he performed his songs that would continue to pull the listener into the heart and soul of melodic memory and rebellious times.
Ciseron does that for me. It draws me into the realm of being able to relive the very first one I ever had. “You are so beautiful . . . .” Charging the momentum of erotic energy on and on.
(My sweatshirt, my pants, my undershirt are beginning to dry ever so slowly.)
The cigar is my focus. The two-tiered fan at the left on the table in the garage is causing me to experience chills – despite the humidity. The smoke from the tobacco is swirling as a Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers duet with the moving air creating an atmosphere of smiling satisfaction.
Woodstock is long gone. The stories, films, and performers are forever in my musical memory. I would have been there (1969) in Bethel, New York. I would have sloshed in the mud. My clothes would have been soaked because it rained so hard and so often.
I take another long, thick mouthful of Ciseron’s classic blend in as the exhaling cloud of smokey particles drifts me toward its true and final destination. Wow! That flood tide of fantastic “factual” phantasmagorical flavor!
“You are so beautiful, (short pause) “tooooo . . . .” Joe’s attempt at a falsetto climax begging his vocal cords to reach it – and they did.
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The uniqueness of Cocker’s palsied zone
His voice, his gruffness, alone his tone
The colors used by Ciseron
The balanced blend of Oscar V
These Classics are so beautiful –
“ . . . tooooo me.”
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