At PaceWildenstein Gallery, a well-dressed crowd assembled last week to celebrate the opening of Robert Rauschenberg’s latest exhibition, “Scenarios and the Ancient Incident.”

The artist, now in his 80s, arrived at the gallery looking dapper in a Houndstooth jacket and striped shirt. With family and friends stationed beside his wheelchair, Mr. Rauschenberg was soon surrounded by a throng of admirers.

Clusters of viewers also gathered around his nine large paintings. The “Scenario” series, each approximately 7 feet by 10 feet, exemplify the pioneering collage aesthetic at the core of the artist’s long and prolific career. Consisting of transferred photographic images, the paintings playfully juxtapose images of the diverse American landscape — where roadside motels and beachfront diversions mingle with more urban counterparts. Arranged as rectangles on vast white space, the images are less layered than Mr. Rauschenberg’s earlier paintings – the relative simplicity perhaps more akin to his works on paper.

Mr. Rauschenberg, who is represented in practically every contemporary collection, drew his share of the art world elite. The Museum of Modern Art’s painting curator, Joachim Pissarro, looked at home in the museum-like setting of the brightly illuminated gallery. Actress Lauren Hutton was present, and artist Robert Whitman showed up in support of his gallery mate.

Rising up amid the crowd was “American Incident,” a large-scale sculpture featuring two elevated chairs facing each other in precarious conference. As the mass of viewers pushed closer to the piece, some curious patrons could not resist the urge to touch — seeking tactile proof that the weathered wood and hardware-store brackets passing for common objects were actually cast bronze.

The sculpture — more than 7 feet tall and made of solid metal — seemed at risk from the surging crowd.

Toward the end of the evening, contemporary dance choreographer Merce Cunningham arrived. Mr. Rauschenberg and Mr. Cunningham first met as young men at the pivotal Black Mountain College. After more than 50 years of collaboration, the old friends now warmly greeted each other from their respective wheelchairs.

Deluged with friends, family, and fans, Mr. Rauschenberg never made it more than 15 feet into the gallery. Remaining until the close of the event, he generously spent time with each person who breached the inner circle.

Alan Marlis, an ardent follower, worked his way through the cluster of visitors, waiting for his audience with the esteemed artist. When he finally emerged, Mr. Marlis unfurled a 1976 exhibition poster, pointing toward the lower portion of the print now initialed in black ink. Although the shaky ‘RR’ signature suggested the artist’s ailing health, Mr. Rauschenberg’s gregarious interaction with those in attendance showed a youthful enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Mr. Cunningham left his longtime collaborator to the ever-growing crowd of admirers. Making his way to a quieter part of the gallery, he had a chance to enjoy the paintings relatively undisturbed — one legend silently paying respect to another.