Barney Smith, 91 years old, a retired master plumber turned artist, recently put the finishing touches on his 1,035th toilet seat lid, which will be displayed with his others in his oversize garage. (click below to read more)
He began his collection about 50 years ago, when he bagged a small deer and was looking for a way to display the antlers and discovered that a lid worked perfectly. Since then, he has painted, engraved and adorned lids to mark earthquakes and Super Bowls and to honor entertainers, mayors and his wife, Velma Louise.
"If it's not a lid, I won't paint on it," says Mr. Smith, of Alamo Heights, Texas, whose collection is enshrined in his Toilet Seat Art Museum, which is free and draws about 1,000 visitors a year. Executives from toilet seat manufacturers have taken tours as have local grade school classes, who can learn about the eruption of Mount St. Helens and see ashes from the site, which are glued on the lid, as well as the fall of the Berlin Wall, a piece of which is mounted to another lid.
Mr. Smith aside, toilets and art haven't generally been associated with each other. Commodes are considered commodities, and like religion and politics, not the subject of polite conversation. "There's something about human nature that shies away from toilets," said Celeste Massullo, an entrepreneur from Macedonia, Ohio. She said she had a hard time getting people to take her seriously when she first introduced Toilet Tattoos, a line of reusable vinyl décor for lids. But the concept is catching on. She says annual sales of the tattoos, which she began selling in 2006 and retail for $9.95, have reached $6 million.
"It really turns your toilet lid into a frame for artwork," said Ms. Massullo, who also designed jewelry and a line of feather coats. Her Artistic Canvas collection includes wildlife paintings of deer and bears, brightly colored tree frogs and portraits of German shepherds, which she licensed from several artists. Some artists refused to participate. "They don't want their work on a toilet," said Ms. Massullo.
Wisconsin artist Lori Schory does. Ms. Schory's paintings of flamingos, koi fish and butterflies appear on several items, including jigsaw puzzles, light switch plates and T-shirts.
She heard about Toilet Tattoos, thought it would be a good fit for her work and contacted Ms. Massullo, offering to digitally adapt her work to fit both round and elongated lids.
Since then, she has produced custom drawings for Toilet Tattoos, mainly scenes of outhouses. "Art isn't just for someone in an art gallery," said Ms. Schory.
Some galleries have shown toilet lid art. Last summer, the Flying Pig Studio and Gallery in Lucas, Kan., hosted an exhibit of hand-painted lids in conjunction with the opening of a public restroom in downtown Lucas called Bowl Plaza, which is shaped like a toilet tank with an entrance resembling an upraised lid.
Mr. Smith prefers toilet seat lids over canvas for practical reasons. They are versatile, plentiful and inexpensive. Local plumbing companies donate rejects. John Kostopoulus, of Boron, Calif., also apparently preferred lids. He had 400 toilet lids, featuring celebrity portraits and political slogans, suspended from a hurricane fence around his home. He died in 1996.
Mr. Smith believes his collection is the biggest, although he isn't in any world record book. He checked Guinness World Records and didn't see anything for toilet lid art, although there is a record for the most toilet seats broken by the head in one minute—46. Mr. Smith has an application to submit his collection for consideration but hasn't filled it out. He's too busy.
"Some nights I fall asleep with my shoes on," said Mr. Smith. He recently completed a lid in anticipation of a busload of senior citizens from a local retirement center. The lid is engraved with the center's logo.
He works only on pressed wood lids because he can drill into them and secure various items such as license plates, military medals and computer keyboards. People send him mementos they think worthy of being so preserved.
One man offered what he said was a piece of a space shuttle that he found on a Florida beach. Mr. Smith mounted the object and painted a picture of the shuttle above it.
One couple donated their swizzle stick collection; another sent the bootees of their newborn and asked that one be made for their baby.
He doesn't charge people for making customized lids and doesn't sell them either. "He's not doing this to make a living," said Liz Tullis, who lives around the corner from the Toilet Seat Art Museum. She asked Mr. Smith to make a tribute lid as a surprise, one-of-a-kind gift for Phil Hardberger, the former mayor of San Antonio.
"It's one of my proudest moments," says Mr. Hardberger, who also has a more conventional canvas oil portrait hanging in city hall. Mr. Hardberger, a country boy who grew up in a house without an indoor toilet, said he admires Mr. Smith and the fact that he uses a medium that others might consider odd or inappropriate.
"I like people who kind of step to a different drummer," said Mr. Hardberger. The former mayor autographed the lid, which is number 1,000, and has visited the museum twice.
On a recent day, sales executives from Plano-based Topseat International Inc. stopped by to admire the collection. Topseat sells lids with 3-D images of tigers, polar bears and butterflies. Its newer Vario Scenario lids can rotate pictures of landmarks around the world, including the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Marlin Coffee, who is in charge of sales, had read about the museum and wanted to contribute two lids to Mr. Smith's collection.
"He's very passionate about his work," says Mr. Coffee, who was impressed by the intricate carvings and eclectic subject matter.
Mr. Smith said he never runs out of ideas.
When his local dentist was retiring, Mr. Smith called. "Do you have anything that I could put on my toilet seat?" The dentist gave him two sets of dentures, which are mounted on a lid along with instruments, and serve as a lesson for visiting children on the importance of dental hygiene. "If you don't brush your teeth you're going to lose them," Mr. Smith warns them.
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