Robar created his art — fields of toilets with plastic flowers "growing" out of them — to express his feelings about the local authorities.
The first seeds of the project were planted in 2004 when the Village of Potsdam refused to grant Robar a zoning change that would have allowed him to sell some property to a buyer to build a Dunkin Donuts.
But then, in 2005, a piece of property three blocks away — not Robar's — was sold to a buyer who, by golly, went and built a Dunkin Donuts.
A little time passed, and Robar requested a zoning change for a different lot he owned.
According to a long and well-reported piece by Sidney Schafer at NNY360.com, a board member told Robar they weren't going to change the zoning rules for his second lot, either.
That's when Robar decided to express his feelings about the town's leadership, artistically.
He started to put toilets all over his property and fill them with fake flowers. When he needed more toilets, he went dumpster driving. And when he finished with one garden, he started another. And another. And you get the idea.
These "Porcelain Gardens" did not sit well with the city elders who sued Robar for local code violations in 2008. The case was dismissed when the "Code Enforcement Officer" arrived at court without the documents against him.
In 2010, Robar was issued another code violation, but this one was dismissed, he said, "because the judge was on coke or something. They caught him sniffing it in the bathroom."
Robar continued to piss off Potsdam's poobahs by creating more and more of his art. Sometimes he added bathtubs and wash basins, but toilets and urinals dominate. "There's one across from Clarkson College," Robar said. And another at the main intersection in town.
In 2018, the town made one last attempt to dethrone Robar. The Board of Trustees passed a law against visible junk:
The deposit, accumulation, display and/or outdoor storage of junk, junk appliances, junk furniture, junk mobile homes, junk motor vehicles, garbage, regardless of quantity, is hereby prohibited within sight of neighboring property/properties and/or business concerns.
At that point, said Robar, it was time to sue or get off the pot. "I hired a lawyer and another lawyer. I have my First Amendment rights."
That's what his lawyers argued, too, alleging that the junk law was retaliation against Robar's artistic and political freedom of expression. They filed a federal lawsuit against the Village of Potsdam for violating Robar's rights and demanded $7 million in damages.
In February, the town rescinded its junk statute, but the federal lawsuit barreled on. And in April, Robar won his case. "I got a settlement, but I can't say what it was," Robar said. He added with a hint of glee, "I'm happy with it."
Happy, too, are the tourists who flock to Potsdam, population 15,000, to take selfies in front of those newly minted First Amendment icons. Graduates pose there with mom and dad, said Robar. "I wish I had a dollar for every picture they took."
Instead, he's semi-retired, still working on some of his rental properties, and enjoying his living legacy. "You've got some people; they've got a little authority in a village and they always think they can push it a little further. But I think now people realize that they do have rights. You just gotta stick up for them."
Or perhaps sit down.