Yes, I made other pictures besides toilet paper in 2020!

2020 was a disaster—the weirdest year of my life. And making paintings of toilet paper was the lion’s share of my body of work. Canvases depicting white paper rolls found homes faster than any other series in my art career. But, yes, I made other pictures besides toilet paper in 2020! This post is a humble overview of recent works. But be warned, more sentences here begin with “I” than in an Obama speech.

“Lalique” 2020, private collection Houston.

Pet portraits have been a staple for me for over a decade. And though I did not do too many this year, I did some good ones. (Link to TroysArt: A few recent pet portraits). I work from photos and my pet portraits are by commission. I have been lucky to have more cats in the past two years than previous years in total. Lalique, shown left, passed away in 2019 and is a good example of a sweet feline memorial.

“Sometimes losing a pet is more painful than losing a human because in the case of the pet, you were not pretending to love it.” Amy Sedaris

Inks Lake, 2020, sketchpad.

Humankind has a long history of pet portraiture. The iconography of including dogs with or without humans in paintings signifies loyalty and wealth. George Rodrigue gave the world the ultimate pop art pet, the Blue Dog. And it is a rewarding experience to deliver a finished portrait, for both me and the person who commissioned the painting, especially if that animal is already waiting at Rainbow Bridge.

Inks Lake, 2020, on canvas, Troy Broussard, private collection Houston.

In a year fraught with difficulties, travel came off the table right away—my New Year’s resolution to travel travel travel abruptly ended ended ended! I never even left the state of Texas. I took a few road trips, got to Galveston regularly, and did a few campouts at Texas State Parks.

It is a known practice, to my friends and readers, that I travel with a pochade for plein air painting. (A pochade or pochade box is a lightweight case that converts into an easel and holds enough paint for a day’s work outdoors.) En Plein Air is the term for painting outside, a practice that improved in the mid-19^th century with the advent of paint in tubes.

“Plein-air painting is my response to the moment – the reflected light in the water or the mood created by the shadows.” Keith Bond

Beachscape (large), 2020, on canvas.

Over the years I built a good series of plein air paintings at State and National Parks. My best opportunity to paint scenic views was over a week at Inks Lake. But my friends and I were so unhinged after months of quarantine that I never made time to work on a canvas. I did, however, do sketches that translated into studio paintings. The above landscape is an example.

In Galveston I did some small beach paintings—not my favorites but enough effort to warrant a new island sticker on my pochade box. It is difficult to draw or paint on a windy beach, and every beach is windy. At a point this summer I did several studio canvases on which to practice beachscapes.

“An empty beach is a perfect place to both fill and empty the mind!” ~Mehmet Murat Ildan

Beach Study 3, 2020, on canvas.

Have you ever been to a museum or gallery and noticed a painting by an artist that was just like a painting somewhere else? Artists often repeat scenes trying various approaches, learning something new with each new canvas, often working toward a larger composition. The beaches above and left are seemingly identical, but, aside from variations in pigments and brushstrokes, compsitionally the waves are at different breaking points. It is a subtle variation but it helped me to clarify and hopefully improve. Once an artist refines, he often repeats; again, Mr. Rodgrigue’s Blue Dog is a good example–as is my toilet paper.

Painting such a freeform object like waves and water is not a freeform endeavor and can get rather awkward when brushstrokes go wrong. Seascape painters like Robert Wood and Alexander Dzigurski leave the viewer stunned with cascading waves of perfection. I am a rookie in the discipline but made progress. There are inherent difficulties between the subject matter and the style that I developed over the past 30 years. But it is the artist’s job to overcome the obstacles, often stumbling through a composition like solving a puzzle.

And the beach is difficult to sketch, a subject that does not translate well in my style or in black pencil. But I always, no matter where I go, have my sketchpad.

The Hanging Mouse, 2020, Troy Broussard, sketchpad.

“It was amazing what an hour with her sketchpad could do for her mood. She was sure that the lines she drew with her black marker were going to save her years of worry lines in the future.” Victoria Kahler

Some drawings are rather nice. But not every sketch is a masterpiece—they are not meant to be.

I can sit and dedicate myself to a drawing whether outdoors, a still life, a model, or an imagined composition, as shown right, but the sketchbook is also filled with aimless or ill-conceived works, even experiments, doodles, and unfinished drawings. Early in the year I shared sketches from my stack of pads, ranging back twenty-five years. I called it Project Sketchbooks, posting dozens of drawings on Instagram and the TroysArt Facebook Page that have otherwise never seen the light of day. But due to lack of enthusiasm or other diversions, such as Coronavirus, the online exhibit fizzled.

2020 in Aqua, by Troy Broussard, on canvas, private collection Scottsdale, AZ.

But clearly, nothing can be more iconic or ridiculous for 2020 than toilet paper and toilet paper hoarding. My favorite meme featured a man sitting with his doctor who gives him a positive Covid diagnosis, to which the man responds, “That’s impossible. I have twenty cases of Costco water and 200 rolls of toilet paper.” The whole hoarding phenomenon was truly bizarre.

“Toilet paper, up until this point, always just existed. And now it’s a finite resource, constantly in danger of extinction, that must be carefully tracked and monitored, like pandas?” Kelly Williams Brown

Eighteen years ago I made a small oil painting of a roll of toilet paper for my powder room door—an ornate gilded frame set it off nicely. It was a hit with guests—back when people had guests. So it was only natural to pick up the mantle this year. (Link to TroysArt: The coronavirus era and a symbol of the times—Toilet Paper).

I never thought that my still life paintings of toilet paper could be such a popular happenstance. And I was reluctant to associate God-given talents with the wiping of butts. But it was and I did. And during my furlough from the day job, I made many of them, a perfect series of fine art for the bathroom and the times. Never forget!

Now we all wonder what 2021 has in store. But no matter what is hurled our way, you can bet I will have my sketchpad.

2020 by Troy Broussard, acrylic & Minwax on wood.

Examples in this post not otherwise noted are available and there are other pieces not shown from which to select for readers interested in aquiring art. And for occassional updates and images, follow me on Instagram and/or Facebook at the links below:

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