Philadelphia's Got (More) Art!

 Copy of Rodin's "The Kiss" by Henry Greber

Rumor has it that Philadelphia has a lot of history, but the Liberty Bell wasn't on the agenda for Maggie's and my girlfriend getaway. Instead, we saw art and more art, from street murals to works that have sustained the test of time. Pour a cup of coffee and join me on our journey. 

I had no idea that Philadelphia is home to a museum featuring Rodin's beautiful sculptures. It turns out that Philly was the first U.S. city to display works by the sculptor. In 1876, Rodin sent eight works to the Centennial Exposition. He won no medals, and his work essentially went unnoticed. It makes me wonder what else was on display (but not enough to research the question -- lol). 

The Museum includes many of the sculptures for which Rodin is best known, although some were not actually created by the artist. This version of "The Kiss," for instance, is a copy carved by Henry Greber in 1929. Still, it's a sculpture I've always, well, loved.  

As you may know (I didn't), "The Kiss" depicts Francesca and Paolo, a doomed pair of adulterers from Dante's "Inferno. Hopefully they enjoyed this rapturous embrace because Francesca's husband (who also happened to be Paolo's brother) stabbed them to death when he found them locking lips. You can add to the list of things that I didn't know the fact that Rodin called the work "a large sculpted knick-knack following the usual story." And that was before the image became emblazened on tshirts and mugs and the like. I'm just going to ignore this information and continue to be enchanted by the work. For more about "The Kiss," click here.

"Bad Boy for Life" by Noah Davis (2007)

The Philadelphia Museum of Art is now home to a retrospective of the work of Noah Davis. Despite passing away at age 32 after a battle with cancer, Davis made notable contributions to the contemporary art world. I'm happy to have been introduced to his work and his legacy. 

First, his art. Davis aspired to represent the people around him. Real life, that is (although the Jerry Springer show was one of his inspirations, and I'm not sure that qualifies as real life). The indistinct -- somewhat "smeared" -- way he painted the faces of his characters in "Bad Boy for Life" is representative of his style. It gives his works a kind of dreaminess. I love the expression on the mother's face. "Oh well, she seems to be saying. You gotta do what you gotta do." The boy, too, seems resigned to receiving his punishment. It's just a part of everyday life. 

Davis' legacy also includes the Underground Museum in LA that he opened with his artist wife Karon Davis. The idea was to bring contemporary art into a Black LA neighborhood so its residents could see what was happening in the art world. The exhibit "Imitation of Wealth" featured recreations of works by well-known artists such as Jeff Koons' "Hoover Vaccuums." I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when people saw these works. For more on Davis, click here. 

"High Yella" by Betye Saar (2002)

The Museum also had an exhibit on entitled "In Her View: Highlights from the Keith and Jim Straw Collection." The Straws began collecting the work of female artists in the 1970s, an unusual focus at the time. My favorite work in the exhibit was "High Yella" by Betye Saar.

"High Yella" is an assemblage that includes fabric, plastic ornaments and a framed gelatin silver print. The texture of the work, which you can hopefully see in this image, came from Sayre's use of painted cast pulp. The photograph is of an unidentified Black woman who is light-skinned and serves as the heart of the piece. 

Saar's intention behind this work is to highlight colorism, a discriminatory system pursuant to which lighter skinned Blacks are treated more favorably than those whose skin is a darker shade. It's an issue Saar addresses frequently in her art through the use of materials such as yellowed vintage photographs, darkened paper and aged fabrics. I love this quote about using her art to highlight societal issues. "To me the trick is to seduce the viewer. If you can get the viewer to look at a work of art, then you might be able to give them some sort of message." Consider me seduced. For a short interview with the artist (then 95 -- she's now approaching 100) , click here. 

Up next is my final blog about our trip to Philly and will introduce you to the Magic Gardens and the work of Isaiah Zagar. It's an incredible site that cannot be captured with a single image. Stay tuned!

Philadelphia's Got Art!

"Declaration" by Titus Kaphar
and Reginald Dwayne Betts

With more than 4,000 murals across the city, Philadelphia is the mural capital of the world.  No, I did not add an extra zero to that number by mistake. This is a city that takes its public art seriously. And here's the cool thing -- most of the art was financed by Mural Arts Philadelphia, a public-private partnership founded in 1986. Its budget runs between $11MM and $15MM per year, with public funding making up approximately a third of that amount. Wow. Not surprisingly, taking a mural tour was at the top of my list of things to do during my recent visit. I can check learning about 12 of the 4,000 murals off my list -- lol. 

One of the things that struck me about many of the murals is how large they are. As the saying goes, size matters. "Declaration" by artist Titus Kaphar and poet Reginald Dwayne Betts, for instance, stands eight stories tall. It makes the message of this work all the more powerful. 

The mural includes a portion of the Declaration of Independence that's been heavily redacted. The redaction is, of course, what the mural is all about. You probably recall from your civics classes that the Declaration of Independence stated that "all men are created equal." Problem number one with this language is that "men" was interpreted to mean only men, and women didn't gain the right to vote until well more than a century later. Problem number two, and the point of the mural, is the contradiction between this language and the scope of the Constitution, enacted 20 years later. Per the Constitution, each enslaved African-American was counted as three-fifths of a person when determining a state's representation in Congress. Not exactly equality among men. 

And here's something cool about this work and the Mural Arts program. It was developed by Kaphar and Betts in connection with a Mural Arts' Reimagining Reentry Fellowship. Many of the people who worked on the mural were from the Mural Arts Guild Program, a reentry program for men and women recently out of prison. "Declaration" is a huge "wow" in every respect. 

"Untitled" by Amy Sherald (2019)

We also visited a mural designed by Amy Sherald, the artist best known for painting Michelle Obama's official portrait. The image is that of Najee S., a participant in the Murals Arts education program. The intention is for viewers to see Najee not as an individual but as a representative Black body taking up public space (six stories of public space to be exact). Who is deserving of being the subject of a work of art and how seeing a portrait such as this impacts viewers are two of the basic questions Sherald's work asks. 

It of course makes sense that Najee spent time with Sherald in connection with the creation of the mural. But Najee wasn't the only Mural Arts education participant to meet the internationally known artist. A larger contingent visited Sherald's studio where they had the chance to talk with the artist and explore her studio. Sherald apparently has costumes on hand to dress her subjects, so they also got to play dress up. What an opportunity!  As a side note, our tour guide shared that Sherald's involvement in the creation of the mural was limited to creating the design. She did apparently paint the buttons on the coat, but she wasn't out there on a scaffolding for days on end with a paintbrush in hand. Still, everyone on the tour was excited to see this work. And if you're interested in seeing more murals honoring women, click here. 

"ContraFuerte" by Migaul Antonio Horn (2021)

In addition to its Mural Arts program, Philadelphia enacted its Percent for Art programs in 1959. The ordinance requires an amount equal to at least one percent of the cost of construction projects developed on City land or funded by the City be spent for site-specific public art. The programs were established during Mayor Richardson Dilworth's tenure as part of his "modern golden age" vision of improving the city's infrastructure and public spaces. 

Miguel Antonio Horn's "ContraFuerte" is one of the 600+ works around the city created in connection with these programs. Most people interpret the figures in the work as working together to hold the ramp into a city parking garage in place. It clearly takes a lot of effort, as any collaborative endeavor does.

Horn is a bit more oblique about his intention. "It's a group struggle," he said in this interview, "But there are also individuals within that...The way people relate to that connects with their own internal struggles and experiences." I found the sculpture a bit creepy. Art is personal. 

What a treat it was to be in a city that has made public art such an integral part of its design. If you visit, take the time to look up and appreciate what's been created. For more on the Mural Arts program, click here. And for more on the Percent for Art program, click here. 

A Visit to the Barnes Foundation

A wall at the Barnes Foundation

A visit to the Barnes Foundation is always a treat. If you're not familiar with the museum, the collection showcases the artwork amassed by Albert C. Barnes over the course of his lifetime. I don't use the word "amass" lightly. His collection contains more than 4,000 artworks and includes 181 Renoirs, 69 Cezannes and 59 Matisses. The obvious question (other than how one person can own so much world class art) is how to display thousands of paintings. Rather than mounting just a few works in the traditional manner and storing the rest for rotation, Barnes created ensembles on each wall. The works are arranged with an eye to color and line and space rather than a particular artist or period. The effect is quite glorious, if a bit overwhelming. 

"Absorbing Art" by Aristodimos Kaldis (1941)

The museum was originally located in Barnes' home in Merion, Pennsylvania. The move to downtown Philadelphia was extremely controversial. It had been Barnes' intention for the collection to remain in situ in Merion in perpetuity. There were issues with the location, though, that put the museum on the brink of financial collapse. Most significantly, it was difficult for people to get there. Fewer visitors meant fewer dollars, of course, and a collection of that magnitude is expensive to maintain. 

After years of legal battles, the collection was moved to its new home. While the structure is quite different from a house, the artwork is displayed in rooms the exact size and shape of those in Barnes' home. As a result, visitors see the art in the configurations he envisioned. 

For this visit, I decided to focus on the work of artists with whom I was not familiar. Not to belittle Cezanne or Renoir or other well known artists, but why not take the opportunity to be introduced to someone new? "Absorbing Art" by Aristodimos Kaldis is one example. I like the idea of an art lover in a museum looking at a painting of an art lover in a museum. Kind of meta, right? More importantly, I responded to the bright colors and somewhat primitive style of the work. If you do too, you can find some info about Kaldis by clicking here. I was particularly interested to learn that Kaldis was the first living American artist whose work Barnes purchased. Quite an honor. 

I sadly have a tendency to get caught up in chronicling what I'm seeing rather than really looking and appreciating. That's especially true in an exhibit this size. So I entered the galleries with my iPhone at the ready. But there was an issue -- the Barnes doesn't have wall cards with the names of the works and the artists who created them. This of course makes sense given the context. People generally don't label the artwork in their homes, and the idea was to preserve Barnes' collection exactly in the manner it was displayed. I could have fought people over one of the laminated list of works in each room, but the museum has developed a different approach to address this issue, albeit one that was a bit anxiety producing.

"Married Life" by Roger de la Fresnaye (1913)

Thanks to the magic of modern technology, when you point your camera at a painting, a message is conveyed to the Barnes that you want an image of that artwork. You are assured that you will receive an email after you've left the museum with images of each of the works you wanted to remember along with the info that would typically be on a wall card. Great, although going along with this approach felt a bit like taking a trust fall.   

I breathed a sigh of relief when my email from the Barnes arrived shortly after we left. Whew! What if I had to actually just rely on my memory of the experience? (This is a philosophical question beyond the scope of this blog - lol.) My friend Maggie's email didn't arrive until the next morning, though, causing a good deal of consternation on her part. Technology is great until it doesn't work. 

Now back to the art. Both "Married Life" and "David and Goliath" were paintings that caught my attention, but I had no idea who had created them. I now know that the artists were Roger de la Fresnaye and Angelo Pinto, respectively. Both were new names to me. You won't be surprised to learn that de la Fresnaye was part of the Cubist movement. Just look at the angularity of the bodies of the couple featured in his work. De la Fresnaye moved away from Cubism later in his career to depict people in a more realistic manner. That work included a series of self-portraits chronicling the progression of his tuberculosis caused by his exposure to toxic gases during WWI. For more on de la Fresnaye, click here.

"David and Goliath" by Angelo Pinto (1942) 

Angelo Pinto is an artist whose story is intimately linked with that of Albert Barnes. Angelo, along with two of his brothers, took art classes at the Barnes Foundation in the late 1920s. Barnes took a shining to the young artists and became their supporter and, eventually, their patron. Angelo became even more connected with Barnes when he joined the Foundation as an art instructor. Eventually, Barnes purchased four paintings by Albert and his brothers, securing their reputation in the art world. For more on this connection, click here.

Pinto's "David and Goliath" is a reverse painting, a technique I hadn't heard of before. Pinto painted this image on the back of a transparent support, creating the detail and highlights before moving on to the background and shading. This technique is more protective of the artwork than a painting created in the more traditional manner, but it sounds like a pretty complicated solution to a potential problem. 

With that, I'll leave you with a strong recommendation not to miss the Barnes if you're in the Philadelphia area. It's a very special place. For an armchair visit, click here. Happy exploring! 

Halo Arts Project Hosts "ASE: Seeing Spirit in Afro-Caribbean Art"

"First Generation" by Eustace Mamba (2024)

While it's always fun to see an exhibit with works by famous artists, a show doesn't have to boast familiar names to be engaging. Case in point: "ASE: Seeing Spirit in Afro-Caribbean Art" now on view at Halo Arts Project in Sarasota. It's a show no art lover should miss. 

The exhibit features 30 works created by 23 artists and comes from the Petrucci Family Foundation Collection of African American Art. The organizing principle of the exhibit is described this way: "Ase (pronounced axe) is a Yoruba concept that exists across the African Diaspora. It has a dual meaning: both a spiritual direction, understood as 'the power to make things happen' and a vital life force..." The works in the exhibit are quite different in style and subject matter, but each goes back to this basic idea. 

"First Generation" by Eustace Mamba is the work I gravitated to first both times I've visited the exhibit. It is painted on an actual American flag, a choice that makes the work more impactful than a mere painting of the flag would be. A young woman holds an infant whose image is created in part from blocks of different colors. When combined with the title of the painting and the flag, the work is a nod to the melting pot America has historically been. It's worth noting that Mamba himself is a first generation child of immigrants. For more on Mamba and his work, click here.

"White Noise, Let the choir sing a magnified silence
 (25 Affirmation)" by Morel Doucet (2020)

Morel Doucet's "White Noise, Let the choir sing a magnified silence (25 Affirmation)" is a striking photograph of 25 small ceramic figures. Doucet is both the sculptor and the photographer. Most of the figures have natural elements in place of human heads. There are seashells and starfish and coral and the like, all nods to the interrelationship between humans and the natural world. 

Then there are figures with safety pins for heads. They're a bit unsettling, and that's Doucet's intention. The safety pins are a nod to the way humans and the natural world are entangled and the threats that relationship poses to the environment. 

Doucet's choice of white porcelain as the medium is also intentional. A profile of the artist in "Plaid" magazine describes the intention behind his ceramic works as follows. "The concept of 'colorism' is strong here. 'Colorism' is a kind of denial of 'blackness,' both socially as well as physically with skin bleaching.This trend is widespread across the Caribbean. Also, ceramic is fragile, and Doucet connects that aspect of the work to the fragility of being black in America." To read the article in its entirety, click here. And for Doucet's website, click here. 

"Martiniquienne" by Ralph Chesse (1950)

I'll leave you with Ralph Chesse's "Martiniquienne," a work that made me think of the linoleum cuts of Elizabeth Catlett. (Click here to see Catlett's "Sharecropper" in MOMA's collection.) The similarity isn't only that Chesse and Catlett work in the same medium. Both artists imbue their subjects with a sense of strength and resolve and dignity. Chesse's Martiniquienne is taking care of business, whether she's carrying this produce to the market or home. She is erect in spite of what must be difficult conditions. Despite the lack of color, there's something about the image that makes me feel the sun beating down on her. The more time I spend with this work, the more powerful it becomes. 

Chesse was a multi-talented artist whose skills extended beyond the canvas. He created a mural in Coit Tower in San Francisco for the predecessor agency to the Depression-era Works Projects Administration that can still be seen today. Chesse was also a puppeteer of some acclaim. He was the creator of "Brother Buzz," a children's puppet program that ran for more than 15 years in the San Francisco area. But his puppets weren't just for kids. They also "acted" in productions of works by the likes of Shakespeare and O'Neill. That is something I'd like to see. For more on Chesse work and life, click here. 

While there are many other works I'd like to share, I'll let you discover them yourselves. "ASE: Seeing Spirit in Afro-Caribbean Art" runs at John Sims Studio/Halo Arts Project through May 31. (Just to make it easy for you, the address is 1639 Tenth Street in Sarastoa.) The exhibit is open for visitors on Thursday and Fridays from 4-8 and on Saturdays and Sundays from 1-6. For more on Halo Arts Project and the exhibit, click here. And for more on the Petrucci Family Collection of African American Art, click here. Get there if you can! 

One Book One Community: Patrick Bringley on "All the Beauty in the World"

Patrick Bringley

Patrick Bringley was 25 years old when his younger brother passed away after a battle with cancer. Grief-stricken, Bringley couldn't face the idea of continuing to work in public relations at The New Yorker. How could he muster the energy to promote events when all he wanted to do was stand still? He quit his PR job and became a security guard at the Met. Ten years later, Bringley turned in his badge and wrote "All the Beauty in the World" about the experience. But I've gotten ahead of myself once again. 

Each year, the Sarasota County Libraries team selects a book as its One Book One Community selection. If you're not familiar with the program, the idea is for members of the community to read the same book and then participate in events related to the book's themes.This year's selection was "All the Beauty in the World", and the programming culminated with a talk by Bringley. Hearing from him was a real treat. 

All images photos of Bringley's slides 
Apologies for the quality and lack of identification 

Bringley shared that his first assignment at the Met was watching over works by the Old Masters. (Think artists like Rembrandt and Rubens.) The mood and themes of these works seemed appropriate given what his family had been through. In fact, he recalls his mother gazing at her dying son with adoration and lamentation as he laid in his hospital bed. "Look at us," she said. "We're a fucking Old Master painting." You have to laugh or you'd cry. 

How, you might wonder, did it feel to be in the midst of such great works of art day after day? Humbling, of course. But Bringley also felt like the people depicted in the paintings had become his friends.They certainly were good listeners. And, in keeping with his mother's comment, I can imagine he felt they could empathize with the loss his family had suffered.   

Before you start thinking the evening was a downer, let me assure you that it was not. Bringley also shared some funny stories from his time at the Met. Imagine, for instance, a visitor stumbling around in the Old Masters section when what he wanted to see was Van Gogh's "Irises." Bringley, standing watch over his wards, heard the man mutter, "GD it. I'm in the Jesus section again." I don't know how he kept a straight face. (As an aside, I can definitely feel the visitor's pain. One wrong turn at the Met and you're off on an adventure not of your choosing.)

And of course there were the occasional questions that revealed the visitor had no clue where he actually was. "Where are the dinosaurs?" was a popular one. Luckily for the visitor, all he had to do to see T. rex was take a bus straight across Central Park to the American Museum of Natural History. A bit more on point, although geographically more challenging, was "Where's the 'Mona Lisa'?" "Well, sir, you're actually on the wrong continent" is one potential response. (The "Mona Lisa" can be found at the Louvre.) Diplomacy is required on the part of the guards. 

I'll end this post with a couple of tidbits about the guards at the Met. Despite the best efforts of the Met's security system, there have been some thefts over the years. (Click here for more on that topic.) For many years, the Met issued the guards guns -- with live ammunition -- to combat against this threat. In fact, there was even an annual competition between the upstairs guards and the downstairs guards. Bringley never carried a weapon. 

Each guard is paid $80 annually as a sock allowance. You've got to take care of those feet when you're standing eight+ hours a day. He didn't share his favorite brand.

Some of the guards do more than watch over art; they make it. Sometimes they create visual art; other times their creativity takes the form of writing fiction, short stories or art criticism. Some of this work has been published in periodic editions of SWIPE Magazine. For a bit more on that undertaking, click here. The work shown here is a mixed media work made primarily from guards' uniforms. I love it. 

Thanks to the Sarasota County Libraries team for bringing yet another engaging author to our area. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening. I'm already looking forward to the Off the Page celebration in November that will feature big name authors including Nathan Philbrick, Brad Meltzer and Kate Quinn. Keep an eye out for more on those festivities. And keep on reading! 

 

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Fiona Davis Talks "The Stolen Queen"

Kardashian with looted sarcophogus

I love a good literary festival, whether or not I've read the authors I'm off to see. Case in point: Hearing from Fiona Davis at the Southwest Florida Reading Festival. If you're not familiar with her work, Davis writes historical fiction inspired by iconic New York City buildings. 

Davis' latest is "The Stolen Queen" and revolves around a purloined antiquity in the Met's collection. It's safe to save that I never expected to post a picture of Kim Kardashian in my blog, but Davis got the idea for her novel after this photo from the 2018 Met Gala led to Egypt's reclamation of Nedjemankh's golden coffin, circa 1st century B.C. For a fascinating article about the post-Gala recovery of this stolen antiquity -- which came about in part because the disgruntled thief never got paid -- click here. But back to Davis' own story. 

Davis didn't set out to become a novelist. For a decade, she worked in theater in New York. (The production of "Wilder, Wilder, Wilder" in which she played Leonora was nominated for both a Tony and a Drama Desk Award for Best Revival.) She realized, though, that many actresses she knew were aging out of roles while the men were coming into their own. What to do (other than fume about sexism in the industry)? Somewhat hilariously, she took a Myers-Briggs test and learned she was best suited to be a journalist or a cop. It wasn't hard to decide which of the two careers to explore. So off she went to Columbia's School of Journalism.

Post-graduation, Davis had a gig writing for "O" magazine. She came upon a potential story involving the famous Barbizon Hotel (formerly the Barbizon Hotel for Women). She was fascinated to learn that, thanks to rent control, some of the residents paid a mere $250/month for their apartments while many owners had paid north of $15 million for their condos. She realized she had the beginnings of more than a story for the magazine. The result was "The Dollhouse," Davis' first novel. Her now trademark dual plotline enabled Davis to explore both what it was like to live in the building now and back in the day. 

Fast forward to Davis' latest novel, which she describes as "Travel and Leisure" meets Indiana Jones meets "The Devil Wears Prada." The dual timeline in this book moves between 1936 Egypt when a young Charlotte Cross joins an archeological dig and 1978 New York City when Charlotte works in the Met's Egyptian Art Department. Charlotte's passion project is researching the life and accomplishments of Hathorkare, a female pharaoh inspired by the real life Hatshepsut who ruled between 1479 B.C. and 1458 B.C. 

The action at the Met begins when an Egyptian artifact previously owned by Hathorkare goes missing during the 1978 Gala. Setting the novel in 1978 wasn't random. It was the year both the King Tut exhibit and the Temple of Dendur opened at the Met. It was also one of the many years when Diana Vreeland, a character in "The Stolen Queen," chaired the Gala. As a bit of an aside, it was under Vreeland's leadership of the Gala that the event morphed from an intimate fundraiser to the zoo which it has become. All of this history and more can be found in Davis' novel. 

For a bit more about "The Stolen Queen," click here for Davis' website. In addition to the somewhat obligatory book club kit, she has put together a scavenger hunt for objects at the Met that are mentioned in the book. Not wanting to make it too challenging, she's included the galleries in which the objects can be found. Fun! It's one of the outings on my "to do" list the next time I'm in New York. I am particularly eager to see the gorgeous and intriguing "Fragment of a Queen's Face" shown in the image above. 

Happy reading -- and exploring! 

 

Touring J.C. Newman Cigar Co. in Ybor City

J.C. Newman factory floor 

There was a time when the Tampa area was home to more than 150 cigar factories. The collective annual output of hand-rolled cigars by these outfits exceeded 500 million. That's a lot of smoke. Today the number of cigar factories in the entire country has dwindled to a single enterprise -- the J.C. Newman Cigar Co. 

J.C. Newman operates out of the historic El Reloj Cigar Factory in Ybor City and is still run by the Newman family. Tours are offered to educate visitors about the process of making both hand-rolled and machine-made cigars. It's a real slice of history. 

Rehydrating tobacco leaves

So much information was imparted to us over the course of the tour that I can only touch on a few of the highlights here. Where to start? 

It all begins with the tobacco. Most of J.C. Newman's tobacco comes from Nicaragua. In fact, the company has an operation there with more than 800 employees. The Ybor City location has a mere 150 workers.

Tobacco leaves that arrive in Ybor from Esteli have been dried. Before they can be used in the manufacturing process, they have to be rehydrated. This solitary employee had this task on the day we visited. I cannot imagine how mind-numbing this work -- crucial as it is -- must be. The job is even more isolating because his post is in the basement of the factory. Wait a minute. A basement in Florida? Yes, at an elevation of 40+' (a result of dredging), J.C. Newman's building includes a basement. Moving right along...

Filler room with worker checking the tobacco isn't rotting

There are three parts to every cigar -- the filler, the binder and the wrapper. No part of a cigar is more important than the others. The components have to work in tandem in order to achieve the desired taste. 

We got a peek into the room where the filler was aging. It looks a lot like compost, doesn't it? The tobacco is aged here for three to five YEARS before it's ready to be used. The longer the aging process, the more refined the taste. I'm jumping ahead, but once the cigars have been rolled, they "rest" for at least six months in a temperature controlled room so the flavors can blend. You can't be impatient if you're a cigar manufacturer. 

Working with a rehydrated tobacco leaf

The business of hand rolling cigars hasn't changed much over the years. Women tend to be faster because their hands are smaller. Still, their output is maxed out at around 120 cigars a day. By contrast, machines can pump out up to 5,000 cigars daily. Given this differential, it's no surprise that hand-rolled cigars are more expensive. The caliber of the tobacco is the other primary factor affecting the price of a smoke.

Speaking of money, every time we stopped to talk to an employee, our guide said, "We're costing you money today, [insert name here]." It was a bit guilt-inducing. I didn't specifically ask, but workers must be compensated based on their numbers. The lower the production the lower the company's -- and the employee's -- bottom line. Employees are aware of each other's numbers because each worker's output from the previous day is listed on a chalkboard for all to see. There's nothing like a little healthy competition to make people work harder. 

Roller at work

Almost every employee was listening to music or whatever podcast struck their mood that day on their ear pods. It's an effective way to stave off the boredom from the repetition of their tasks. But what about the days before this technology existed? 

Until 1931, J.C. Newman workers were entertained by a lector -- or reader -- who would read books to the employees. (If you've seen a production of "Anna and the Tropics," you're already familiar with this practice.) Our guide shared that some of the company's cigars got their names from these books, including "Romeo and Juliet" and "Monte Cristo." 

The practice ended because the company didn't have control over what the lector read. (This seems odd, but it's what we were told.) Female employees were offended -- and left the floor -- when he read "El Cornudo" ("The Cuckhold.") The company did not approve of "Das Capital" as a selection. No translation required there. In the many years between 1931 and the 1980s when portable walkmen came out, the workers must have engaged in conversation to keep themselves sane. Very civilized, but I suspect they lost some focus as a result. 

Given the inefficiency of making hand-rolled cigars, why do it? It goes back to the tobacco. People rolling by hand can use entire tobacco leaves in their process while machines can only accommodate shredded tobacco. Using an entire leaf ensures a more consistent taste throughout your smoke. 

Once the cigars have been produced, they of course have to be packaged. I enjoyed seeing the art on the cigar "cabinets" on display. (And here I thought they were just boxes.) For the past three years, J.C. Newman has collaborated with the LeRoy Neiman Foundation to use one of Neiman's paintings for the band around a special editor cigar and the related cabinets. This year's LeRoy Nieman Collectors' Edition cigars feature the painting "Jazz Horns." Purchasers of an entire cabinet received a lithograph of the painting in addition to the cigars. The cigars are $22/each, which sounds pricey to me. But the profits from sales of these cigars go to a good cause -- arts education in Tampa public schools. For more information on this collaboration, click here.  

And so concludes my foray into the world of cigar manufacturing. It didn't make me want to smoke a cigar, but it did give me a greater understanding as to why cigar making is considered an art. For more information on J.C Newman, click here. And if you're interested in an unusual outing, click here for their tours and other offerings.