Curing Cancer One Masterpiece at a Time!™

I'd worshipped Rauschenberg's art from afar - this renegade Texas titan who revolutionized art alongside NY giants like Johns and Warhol. So when Janet Mckean (then wife now ex) surprised me with a preview meet-and-greet before the MCA Chicago opening of Rauschenberg: The Early 1950s exhibit, I hesitated, wary that myth might crumble.

Yet, entering the gallery, the legendary artist was animated - eyes glinting mischievously, signing books with machinelike efficiency with his gold "signing pen" while talking nonstop. Introduced, I froze until a gentle grasp jolted me alive. "Call me Bob!" he insisted. Suddenly, my hero felt familiar as we chatted about formative days when Pop art fought Abstract Expressionism to a draw. If he couldn't recall wild details, neither could I quizzing this affable sage. We chuckled at the fog of ages past.

I wish I'd asked about his troublemaking days at Black Mountain College in North Carolina or how small-town roots impacted his boundary-blasting vision. He grew up in Port Arthur, Texas, Janis Joplin's hometown. But just sharing space with this joyful, curious pioneer was gift enough. Leaving the gallery, I realized not all idols diminish after meeting.

Some masters like Rauschenberg grow more daringly human under inspection - their audacious art samples of an even greater soul and vision. I cling to that encounter when doubts creep in because Bob would remind me never to fear corralling wild inspiration. I wish I still had the book, but Elvis along with my signed Rauschenberg book and Talking Heads album left the building during the divorce. But that's okay because I remember our meeting like it happened yesterday. Thanks, Bob!