Meeting Robert Rauschenberg

You couldn't call Robert Rauschenberg Mr. Rauschenberg. He wouldn't let you. "Please call me Bob," I remember him instructing me as my ex-wife Janet McKean, then the Store Manager at the Museum of Contemporary Art, introduced me to one of my heroes. "Sure," I remember stammering even as I thought, "no way." Mr. Rauschenberg was in Chicago at the Museum of Contemporary art. It was the opening day for the Robert Rauschenberg The Early 1950's show in 1992.

My hand shook as I asked "Bob" to sign a copy of his book. He had a gold paint pen. He shook the pen quickly three or four times to move ink to the mashed brush. His gold signature lit the book's black inner-leaf on fire. His signature was looping and he signed both his names. His name flowed across the seam involving both pages. Coloring inside the lines was not something Rauschenberg cared much about even signing a book. Watching him do such a practiced motion cast a spell. As that pen flew across the book's inner pages I could glimpse every creation. I could see the goat with the tire around its middle (Monogram, 1955–59). I could see the flying Coke bottles (Coca-Cola Plan, 1958 below). There was a tiny bit of my favorite painting Untitled Combine Painting, 1954. I've spent about a day staring at Untitled Combine Painting at SF MoMA (painting is below) over the years. I've seen Untitled Combine, 1954 ten times or more and it never ceases to amaze and delight. Bob smiled and chatted about his trip and the installation of his show. I couldn't speak (not usually a problem). After twenty minutes Janet gently guided me away. "You alright," she asked me. I felt like a very small child meeting his favorite ball player or actor.

I had to sit down. For years I tried to channel this man's courage and creativity. If I met the devil at the crossroads and he promised me an eternity of pain for half of "Bob's" inventiveness and creativity I would have happily traded. At night I dreamed of cold lofts with large paintings and Jasper Johns upstairs. In those dreams we (Jasper Johns, Rauschenberg and me) had long talks about art and artists. We would drink slowly, smoke cigarettes and talk until dawn. Apparently I drink and smoke in my dreams (lol).

Janet had to leave and attend to duties. She left me in an out-of-the-way chair with standing people milling around. I sat for about an hour hugging Bob's book to my chest. My mind was far way. It was playing a slide show of favorite paintings by the man I just met. People around me chatted and drank happy to soak up creative energy from a living supernova. They paid no attention. I didn't feel the first tap on my shoulder. On the second or third tap I looked up to see "Bob" smiling down at me, "it was nice to meet you young man," he said. I don't know why I said this, but I said "Thank you." Robert Rauschenberg's handlers moved him out into the black Chicago night.

Thank You Mr. Rauschenberg. Thank You Bob. Vaya con Dios.



Untitled Combine Painting, 1954
Robert Rauschenberg
SF Moma