Drawings Left for Andy

At Andy Warhol’s gravesite, visitors continue a conversation with him through handwritten notes, drawings, poems, and personal messages. They share what his art means to them, express love and gratitude, ask questions, and leave something of their own creativity behind.

From 2009 to 2024, visitors left notes in plastic containers outdoors at the gravesite. We replaced the containers about every two months and collected the notes for the archive. Fading, stains, tears, and other marks record their time outdoors. Some became too damaged to photograph, while others lost their words as the ink faded away. These notes remain in the archive as traces of messages left for Andy, even when their words can no longer be read.

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Art for Andy

Art for Andy presents a selection of drawings of Andy, pictures, poems, and notes combining words and images. Some echo his familiar imagery; others are entirely the visitor’s own invention. Together they offer affection, humor, and a personal response to his work.

By Elizabeth Myers Castonguay

Messages to Andy

The First Notes: February 26, 2009

Andy’s Figments began on February 9, 2009, when I started visiting Andy Warhol’s grave every day. About a week later, a Campbell’s soup can appeared. Who had brought it? What had drawn that person to Andy, and what might they want to say to him?

That curiosity inspired me to leave a box of note cards and Sharpies at the gravesite, along with a simple invitation asking visitors if they had anything to say to Andy.

The first two notes in this archive are dated February 26, 2009. They came from two friends visiting together—one studying neuroscience, the other an art history graduate who had traveled from North Carolina. Finding themselves near Andy’s resting place, they hurried to locate his grave before darkness fell.

Their notes capture the excitement of that evening. One visitor wrote that it was almost too dark to see the page, but she could still see the smile on her friend’s face. The other thanked Andy for inspiring her interest in art history and observed that he had certainly outlasted his “15 minutes” of fame.

I was thrilled to discover that someone had answered my invitation. I could never have imagined then that these first handwritten pages would grow into an archive of thousands of notes. It began with a soup can, a question, and the discovery that people still had so much to say to Andy.

Inspiration

“You’re a real inspiration, man. Keep it weird on the other side,” writes Kayla, bringing humor and affection to her tribute. Visitors describe the encouragement they find in Andy’s art and life. His example gives them confidence to create, look at everyday things differently, and follow their own ideas.

One visitor describes being inspired to “keep working hard and use the things I have to influence my art.” Another writes, “Your style and creativity amazes me and inspires me to reiterate beauty of the simplest things.” That encouragement extends beyond making art: “You've inspired so many just by being yourself. You know it's cool to be yourself.” Alongside brief tributes such as “Endless inspiration” and “You inspire the world,” these personal messages reveal how an artist they may never have met can still influence what they make and who they hope to become.

Love For Andy

Visitors speak to Andy with affection, admiration, and familiarity. “Dear Andy! We love you,” reads one note, while Erin declares, “LOVE LOVE LOVE You.” Hearts, flowers, smiling faces, and playful drawings accompany these declarations. Some messages celebrate his art; others express the feeling of his absence: “We miss you and everything that you did.” Tender, humorous, or only a few words long, these notes preserve the closeness people feel with Andy, even when they never knew him personally.

Thank You Andy

Visitors thank Andy for the beauty and pleasure of his art, for changing how they see the world, and for encouraging their own creativity. They also thank him for pushing boundaries, making room for people who feel different, and showing them that they can be themselves. Others express gratitude for humor, memories, and the pride he brings to Pittsburgh. “Thank you for making a place for us misfits” and “Thanks for creating and inspiring” capture the personal meaning of these offerings. Even a simple “Thank you, Andy” suggests a story beyond the page.

Questions for Andy

“The Guerrilla Girls were here & we are wondering what Andy thought of feminism.” This note opens a challenging conversation among visitors’ questions about Andy’s art, his life, and the world around them. “Where did you find your inspiration?” one asks, while another wonders, “Did you ever lose faith in yourself?” Others imagine a life he never lived: “what would you name your children if you had any?”

Humor belongs here, too, with questions about soup cans, baseball loyalties, and whether Andy was a vampire. Others respond to the gravesite itself: “Where is home, Andy?” and “I wonder what you make of the view from here?” These notes preserve curiosity, affection, and debate, continuing the conversation without supplying an answer on Andy’s behalf.

Help Me Andy

Visitors turn to Andy for guidance, comfort, and help finding their way. These notes speak of recovery, difficult teenage years, creative struggles, and the courage to begin again. Some ask for help; others describe the help they have already found in his art, his words, or the quiet of his gravesite. “Sometimes I come here to talk out my frustrations,” Nicole writes. “Thanks for always LISTENING!” Another visitor, learning to start over, ends simply: “I’m trying.” Together, these messages reveal how personal the connection to Andy can become—a place to share troubles, feel understood, and find encouragement to keep going.

Memories and Remembrance

Visitors to Andy Warhol’s gravesite leave family stories, memories of encounters, and words of farewell. These notes, collected from 2009–2024, reveal personal connections to Andy and the ways people continue to discover and remember him.

Family

Family notes address Andy with affection and familiarity, sharing greetings, memories, gratitude, and concerns. A cousin asks him to pray for Ukraine; a Christmas message remembers his brother Paul and asks for prayers for a young Andy. Others introduce their family connections or describe stories passed down through generations. These messages remember Andy as an uncle, brother, and cousin whose place in family life continues beyond his death.

Those Who Knew Andy and Those Who Did Not

Some visitors remember Andy as a schoolmate, neighbor, friend, or someone they met only once. They recall childhood kindness, neighborhood stores, the Factory, and Studio 54. Others know him through family stories or his art—or are discovering him during their visit. One writes, “I don’t really know who you are,” before thanking him for bringing happiness to others. Together, these notes welcome familiarity, curiosity, admiration, and even indifference into the conversation.

RIP — Rest in Peace

Crosses and drawings of hearts and soup cans accompany simple farewells and heartfelt tributes. “On our minds, in our hearts,” writes one visitor. Others offer direct messages: “Thank you, Andy! Rest in peace!” Sylvie closes a personal tribute with “I miss you. Rest in peace.” These notes express gratitude, loss, and affection. Familiarity and humor find a place here, too, as one visitor asks Andy to tell Mac Miller hello. These offerings honor his memory while revealing how present he remains in visitors’ lives

Different Voices

Young Perspectives

Children and teenagers bring curiosity, affection, and imagination to Andy’s gravesite. Their notes and drawings include soup cans, bananas, hearts, portraits, and colorful scribbles, alongside stories about school projects and museum visits. Sarah, age 9, writes about studying Andy in school and names his tomato soup can as her favorite painting. Owen, age 7, declares, “I love art as much as you!” Scout, age 5, offers a simple greeting: “I LOVE YOU ANDY!”

Teenagers describe finding encouragement in his art and feeling connected to his acceptance of people who were different. Among the contributions with clearly recorded ages are notes from young visitors ages 4 through 17. Their words reveal how discovering an artist can become something personal—a chance to ask questions, share hopes, and feel understood.

Dissent & Disapproval

Not every visitor comes to Andy’s gravesite with admiration. Among the more than 4,000 collected notes there are a few expressing criticism, sarcasm, discomfort, and mixed feelings. “I don’t like your art but sorry you’re dead,” writes one visitor, pairing an unfavorable opinion with sympathy.

Others question the objects left at the grave or ask that Andy be allowed to rest in peace. One drawing imagines his response: “Don’t bother leaving a note. I won’t read it.” Preserved alongside messages of love and gratitude, these contributions make room for disagreement. They show that Andy’s art—and the continuing activity around his grave—can provoke irritation, skepticism, humor, and debate as well as affection.

Pride, Drag & Being Yourself

For many visitors, Andy’s gravesite is a place to celebrate identity and thank him for encouraging the freedom to be themselves. “You inspired me to start drag & to never be afraid to stand out,” writes one visitor. Others describe the courage they have found in his example as queer artists or thank him for helping them feel accepted.

These contributions span generations, including members of the Gen Z LGBTQ+ community, an older visitor who identifies as trans and gay, and a mother of a trans child and a gay child. Rainbow hearts, drawings, photographs, and playful tributes—including “From a soup can to a DIVA!”—express pride, humor, and affection. Together, they show how visitors connect Andy with creativity, belonging, and the courage to live openly.

Near and Far

National Voices

“With love from Wyoming,” reads one note, while another announces, “Greetings from Chautauqua, Andy.” Visitors from Chicago, New Orleans, Buffalo, Seattle, Texas, California, and many other places bring their stories to Andy’s gravesite. “Made the pilgrimage from Long Island,” writes Kevin. Their messages turn journeys across the country into personal encounters, connecting people through the art and life of Andy Warhol.

International Notes

Andy’s gravesite is a meeting place for voices from around the world. A message from Arabia, written in Arabic on bright yellow paper, appears alongside notes in Japanese, Chinese, German, Swedish, Czech, and Italian. Visitors leave greetings, share stories, and describe what Andy means to them. “We made the five hour drive down from Toronto, Canada to pay our respects,” write Chris and Grace. A designer from Mexico tells him, “You are my inspiration,” while a visitor from Germany writes, “without him I wouldn’t be who I am today.” From Taiwan comes a cheerful introduction: “Hello, I am from Taiwan, nice to meet you!” Across languages and borders, these handwritten messages continue a personal conversation with Andy.

General Notes

A hello, a joke, a personal story, or a passing thought—these notes capture the everyday conversations visitors share with Andy. One man tells Andy he named his son after him; another visitor named a cat in his honor. “Andy, you missed social media!” writes someone else. From brief greetings to longer letters, the messages reveal how easily strangers speak to him as a familiar friend.

Soup

A soup can becomes a way to say hello, thank you, or “Rest in Peace, Andy.” These drawings and notes left at Andy’s gravesite range from carefully rendered Campbell’s labels to playful inventions such as “Andy’s Word Soup” and “Banana Soup.” Visitors fill their cans with hearts, memories, jokes, and affection. One writes, “Thanks for inspiring,” while another sends greetings “From Minnesota, with love.” Together, they turn an image so closely associated with Andy into a personal conversation with him.

Soup Labels

Visitors removed labels from soup cans, wrote messages on them, and left them for Andy at his gravesite. The familiar Campbell’s label became a place for a personal conversation. I saved these labels for about ten years, until age and staining made it necessary to let them go. These photographs preserve their words.