So today was the last day of the nine-month project. I'll return to these drawings and reflections over the next few months, as I figure out what I've discovered in this process, but this will be the last of the daily updates for a while.

Five people met my daughter and me at the fountain entrance to the museums. John Morris came by to say hello, but needed to go open the Digging Pitt gallery, and so couldn't stay and draw with us. Likewise, Jordan Crosby also had other work commitments, but Christina and Stacie and Angele were able to stay. We explored the Carneval! show for a while. Christina drew, Stacie wrote a letter about what we were doing, and Angele responded to our surroundings with poetry. Stacie's letter has been sent to a niece in France, Angele promises to send me the text of the poem about Elvis and Pierrot in Brazil, and here are a couple of the sketches Christina made.

We had a great time looking at things together, and then went out for a lunch in the neighborhood.

Postscript:

Angele sent along a copy of her poem.

Carneval Elvis

Angele Ellis

Among the glittering costumes of Carneval,
Late Elvis as Pierrot, the sad, moonstruck clown.
His jumpsuit sprouts ruffles of magic mushrooms,
his cape flows like hair into a silver train --
the man with the unstrung Styrofoam guitar.

With no way to lure her from the Underworld,
he improvises commedia dell’arte on the Strip,
plays for the cheap eternal glamour of the lights.
Carneval Elvis has lost his voice, but he mimes
Are you lonely tonight? Are you lonely tonight?
calling in all the bets of the strays, lucky streaks
that tail like comets into the Chapel of Love.

A taxidermy scene dating to 1867. After the dinosaurs, this is probably the most recognized and remembered exhibit in the Natural History Museum.

Favorite parts of the new Carnaval! exhibit? Besides the sequins? I love the different local versions of garlands running from one wall to another in each section...

From a Winslow Homer watercolor, "Watching from the Cliffs," a study of the rocks in the lower left hand corner.

Perhaps it's the timing of my visits - but I never seem to catch the Earth Theater when it is open. The lights below the marquee often give the current time (helpful in a place where clocks are generally absent) but sometimes offer more mysterious messages: "PROG DOTS A" or "PROG DOTS B."

Less ornate than the one in the hallway by the entrance to the Natural History galleries, but water is water, and here there are cups.

The courtyard is balmy and beautiful. The rushing water of the fountain overruns all city noises, and you can watch the reflections of leaves moving together in the breeze.

Ed. Note: family circumstances may take me off line for a day or so - I will probably draw a museum space from memory tomorrow, and usual posting will resume on Tuesday.

This project will be concluding a week from today, Saturday, June 30th. I can't quite believe it, but I've been making daily drawings in response to the museums since the first of October. To celebrate the conclusion of the project, I invite any reader to meet me at the fountain entrance to the museums on Saturday at 11:00 in the morning. Bring a pencil and your favorite notebook and we can draw in the museum together. (And if drawing is not your thing, come write poetry, doodle, take photographs (where permitted :-) or otherwise keep me company.) We can spend a couple of hours and then go out for a late lunch. Thanks - I look forward to meeting you.

I sat today, enjoying the sun and the thundering sounds of the fountain. Drew lines as I listened, following the sound and movement.

Ink on paper, by Ugo Rondinone. Detail of leaves near the upper right corner of the painting.

This began as a blind contour drawing - moving the pen while looking at the object instead of the paper, letting my eye follow the edges as if touching them. While I was focused on that, I could hear people talking about the newly-renovated exhibit space. I added color, continuing to half-listen to the voices.

Small child on a giant bench at the far end of the glass show. She watches the video, I draw and then paint her.

So here you can get a better idea of the shape of the sculpture in yesterday's painting. I've noted the direction that would have been up in the original house. The sculpture shows the negative space of the staircase and stairwell. It is actual size. [And then, having described it, I forgot to post the drawing - sorry. Here it is the next morning!]

A detail from Rachel Whiteread's sculpture "Interior (Domestic)," which was cast from the staircase in an 18th-century house where Admiral Lord Nelson once lived. The plaster is where the staircase isn't, and the whole negative or 3-D print has been rotated in space so that it is pleasantly mind-bending to study. I suspect I will back up and try to look at the whole thing, which dominates the Hall of Sculpture at the moment.