Truth, beauty, transcendence. For millennia, people think they know the rules of great art. Then, in the 1950s, a guy named Bob breaks every one of them, declaring car tires and Coke bottles and entirely blank canvases part of his art—and, in turn, being declared the greatest artist of his time. As war gives way to optimism, is Robert Rauschenberg offering a weary world a new way of seeing, or is he simply, entertainingly, and quite lucratively bamboozling it?

Here, you can see Rauschenberg's 1970 exhibition at Gallery 12, atop Dayton's department store in Minneapolis: www.rauschenbergfoundation.org/art/archi…allery-12

Here's an iconic print, commissioned but ultimately rejected by Time magazine in 1969, acquired the following year by the Minneapolis Institute of Art when the museum held a major retrospective of his prints: collections.artsmia.org/art/7519/sign…-rauschenberg

And here's an incredible shot of a boat hauling Rauschenberg's massive canvas across Venice for the 1964 Biennale: www.rauschenbergfoundation.org/art/archi…-biennale

New episode! In the 1920s and ’30s, Mary Sully makes her way from Standing Rock Reservation in South Dakota to New York City and then around the country, making surprising, delightfully abstract portraits of American celebrities: Fred Astaire, Shirley Temple, Amelia Earhart. “Personality prints,” she calls them, though the most intriguing personality they reveal might be her own. A personality and a story that challenges everything you think you know about Native America—and all of America—in the early 20th century.

You can see Mary’s “personality prints” the Minneapolis Institute of Art this summer. Photo courtesy of the Mary Sully Foundation.

Kicking off Pride Month with a surprisingly epic encore episode about Grant Wood. In the 1930s, the Iowa artist is one of the most famous people in America. The mind behind "American Gothic"—the painting of the man, the woman, and the pitchfork. An artwork so celebrated and so curious it’s called the “modern Mona Lisa.” But as times change and jealousy spreads, Wood suddenly finds himself fighting for his life and livelihood, protecting a secret he hid almost everywhere but in his art.

You can see Wood’s quirky, nostalgic style in "The Birthplace of Herbert Hoover," in the collection of the Minneapolis Institute of art.

Some see a tender self-portrait in "Sentimental Yearner," a drawing made for Sinclair Lewis’s "Main Street."