Rauschenberg’s Repartee

Soundings, 1968
© Robert Rauschenberg / Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY

While the video projection of Rauschenberg’s performances would have done better in a quieter, darker room to offset the age and poor sound quality of the films, it is this portion of the retrospective that moved me most. I hadn’t realized that Rauschenberg was such a cutting-edge participant in the modern dance scene, working with masters like Paul Taylor and Merce Cunningham. These films shouldn’t be missed. Not only are the sets and costumes designed by the artist vintage Rauschenberg, but all his ideas about art are thrown together in explosive choreography. What can be more comical than the physical humor created by body movement? In Pelican (1963), Rauschenberg rolls around on roller skates with giant veined wings reminiscent of Wile E. Coyote’s attempts to sail across canyons in pursuit of the Roadrunner. My favorite, a film of the 1965 performance of Map Room II, had dancers using rubber tires as limbs; they were squished inside and hovering between the two wheels, rolling across the floor. Seated performers held large flash cards with words; nonsensical phrases were created by the dancers changing positions. And Rauschenberg wore special shoes for this performance (also on exhibit) that protected him from being shocked by the Tesla coil he held in one hand, used to light the neon tubes he held in the other. This stuff would have been outrageous to see live

Mud Muse, 1968-71
© Robert Rauschenberg / Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY

For some reason, I didn’t appreciate the interactive quality of the works at the CAM as much as some. To me they seemed a little gimicky. But one friend who saw the retrospective earlier in New York at the Guggenheim, told me a story that made me want to experience the techno-sculptures again. She had come upon a small mechanical device hanging on the wall, with rudimentary wiring and no instructions. The exhibit hall was quiet with respectful museumgoers. On further inspection she got the feeling that perhaps one was supposed to blow into it, and so she did just that with the reckless abandon reserved for plundering the cookie jar when no one is looking. The air pressure from her breath made the inner mechanics of the object spin, and the spinning made a high-pitched noise. Delighted, she stepped away only to contemplate the disrupting noise and a man who had been standing next to her, watching. Redfaced, she backed up from the wall and the man stepped forward, bent over, and blew into the object too. The inner mechanism spun, and the squeal sounded again. Then he stepped back, they both gave a chuckle, and parted ways. She was struck by the comic scene they had played out and then easily abandoned, obliged by Rauschenberg’s personal invitation to participate in his vision.