Nudity, caviar, Fidel Castro – the wildest art tour of the 20th century

Robert Rauschenberg was an intensely sociable artist, a mile away from the brooding solitary genius of romantic myth. Skills and ideas were to be shared, ideally through the medium of conversation, often over copious amounts of Jack Daniels. The studio – be it a Lower Manhattan loft or a beach house in Florida – was a social space, more frat house than temple. (Though he was always the first person back at work the next day.) 

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