If you’re driving through Texas and someone tells you to go look at a thousand toilet seats, you might think they’re messing with you. I get it. It sounds like a punchline. But Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum was never a joke. It was a life's work.
Barney Smith wasn't some eccentric millionaire looking for a tax write-off. He was a retired master plumber. A man who spent decades looking at the mundane porcelain fixtures of our lives and saw something else: a canvas. He started this whole thing in his garage in San Antonio, and honestly, the scale of it is hard to wrap your head around until you're standing in front of rows and rows of decorated lids.
He didn't just paint them. He collaged them. He bolted things to them. He told stories.
The Man Behind the Lids: Who was Barney Smith?
Barney was born in 1921. Think about that for a second. He lived through the Great Depression, served in the military, and worked as a plumber for most of his life. He didn't start "the museum" as a business venture. It started because he had extra plumbing parts and a creative itch that wouldn't go away.
He passed away in 2019 at the age of 98. Up until the very end, he was the primary docent of his own collection. If you showed up at his house in San Antonio back in the day, he’d likely be the one to open the garage door, walk you through the narrow aisles, and tell you exactly where the piece of wood on seat #432 came from. He had this incredible memory for detail. He could tell you about a piece of the Berlin Wall he’d integrated into a design or a commemorative plate from a NASA mission that found its way onto a wooden lid.
It wasn't just "folk art." It was a curated history of the 20th century, told through the medium of bathroom hardware.
What’s Actually Inside Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum?
You’d think after seeing ten toilet seats, you’d seen them all. Nope.
Barney had over 1,400 seats in his collection. Each one is a time capsule. Some are covered in Scout badges. Others feature volcanic ash from Mt. St. Helens. There’s a seat dedicated to the Challenger shuttle disaster. There are seats featuring dental molds, license plates, and even a piece of Saddam Hussein’s toilet (or so the story goes, donated by a fan).
The sheer variety is staggering.
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- The Natural History Seats: Incorporating antlers, rattlesnake skins, and pressed flowers.
- The Pop Culture Seats: Tributes to Elvis, Star Wars, and local Texas high school football teams.
- The Personal History: Barney even had seats that commemorated his own wedding anniversary and his time in the service.
The museum moved from his garage to a permanent home at Truck Yard in The Colony, Texas, just north of Dallas. It’s a different vibe now—more of a bar and outdoor hangout spot—but the essence of Barney’s work is preserved. They moved the entire collection. Every single seat. It’s now displayed in a way that respects the original "cluttered" charm of Barney’s garage while making it accessible to thousands of people a week.
Why People Get This Place Wrong
A lot of people think this is "kitsch" or "weird for the sake of being weird." They’re wrong.
When you look at the Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum, you’re looking at a man’s refusal to let anything go to waste. It’s a very "Great Depression era" mindset. If it exists, it has value. If it’s broken, you fix it or you turn it into art.
Barney never sold his seats. Not a single one.
People offered him thousands of dollars for specific pieces, especially the ones with historical artifacts embedded in them. He always said no. He didn't want the money; he wanted the collection to stay together. He viewed it as a single body of work. That’s the difference between a hobbyist and a true artist. He had a vision of a complete archive of his life and the world around him.
The Move to The Colony: A Second Life for the Seats
When Barney got into his 90s, the family started worrying. What happens to 1,400 toilet seats when the artist is gone? You can't exactly put them in the Smithsonian (though arguably, they belong there).
In 2017, the collection was put up for sale with the strict requirement that it had to stay together. Enter Jason Boso, the owner of Truck Yard. He bought the entire collection and built a dedicated "museum" building at his location in The Colony.
It was a bittersweet transition. Barney got to see his museum move. He even attended the grand opening. Seeing a 97-year-old man see his life's work celebrated by a new generation of travelers was something special.
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Is it different from the San Antonio garage? Yeah. It’s louder. There’s beer nearby. There’s live music. But the seats are there, and the air conditioning is a lot better, which, let's be honest, is a plus in the Texas summer.
Why You Should Actually Go
Roadside attractions are dying out. The era of the "World’s Largest Ball of Twine" is being replaced by curated Instagram experiences that feel hollow.
Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum is the antidote to that. It’s messy. It’s weird. It’s deeply personal. When you walk through the rows of seats, you’re seeing what one person can do with a singular focus and a lot of glue.
It’s free.
That’s the other thing. Barney never charged admission to his garage, and Truck Yard keeps that tradition alive. You can just walk in. You’ll see families pointing at seats from the year the parents were born. You’ll see art students studying the compositions. You’ll see bikers and suburbanites all doing the same thing: smiling.
It’s hard to be grumpy in a room full of decorated toilet seats.
Finding the Museum Today
If you’re planning a trip, don’t go to San Antonio. The original garage is empty.
You need to head to The Colony, Texas. It's part of the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. Specifically, look for the Truck Yard at the Grandscape development.
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The museum is a separate building on the property. It’s designed to look like a shed or a garage, paying homage to Barney’s original setup. Inside, the seats are floor-to-ceiling.
Some Tips for Your Visit:
- Take your time. Don't just walk through in five minutes. The detail is in the small stuff—the handwritten notes Barney tucked into the frames, the tiny figurines, the specific way he layered materials.
- Check the lighting. Some of the seats have internal lights or reflective materials.
- Talk to the staff. Many of the folks at Truck Yard know the history and can point out some of Barney’s favorite "hidden gems" in the collection.
- Go during the day. While the bar is fun at night, the museum is best experienced when you can actually see the textures of the art.
The Legacy of the Plumber-Artist
Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum isn't just about the "gross-out" factor of toilet seats. Honestly, the seats are so transformed you forget what they were originally for. You start seeing them as oval frames.
Barney taught us that art doesn't have to be in a marble hall in Paris. It can be in a garage in a residential neighborhood. It can be made of things people throw away.
He was a man who worked with his hands his whole life and then used those same hands to build something that would outlive him. That’s a rare thing.
The next time you’re stuck in North Texas traffic, take the exit. Go see the seats. It’s a reminder that everyone has a story to tell, and sometimes, the best way to tell it is on a wooden lid with a bit of glitter and some industrial-strength adhesive.
Actionable Next Steps for Travelers
If you're ready to see this piece of Texas history, start by mapping your route to 5959 Grove Ln, The Colony, TX 75056. Since the museum is located within the Truck Yard complex, check their social media or website for current operating hours, as they can shift during private events or holidays. While there, make sure to look for "Seat #1," the piece that started it all—it's a simple design Barney created after a hunting trip, and it serves as the foundation for the entire 1,400-piece collection. Finally, consider bringing a small token or a patch from your own hometown; while the collection is "complete" in honor of Barney, the curators often appreciate hearing stories from visitors who traveled long distances just to see the seats, keeping the spirit of Barney's hospitality alive.