THE BARRY COLPITTS STORY

By MARILYN SMULDERS - Tuesday, June 18, 2002

This is the first in a series that looks at some interesting places in Nova Scotia that are off the beaten path.

You might say Barry Colpitts started out as a folk artist reluctantly.

As a guy who’s been carving all his life, the former meat cutter, nurse’s aid and prison guard had filled his two-acre property on West Jeddore Road with his wooden creations - mermaids, a few chickens, the devil and Jesus Christ. He’d always have people drop in to see if he’d sell, and he’d always say no. Carving was for his own pleasure.

Then came one persistent visitor who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He kind of wore me down, admits Colpitts, 42, seated in an easy chair by an old-fashioned stove pumping out heat on a warm day. So I said $50, thinking it would chase him off, but he said sure. He took everything I had.

Since then, he’s been carving folk art nonstop. The pink-painted 120-year-old house he shares with wife Bettianne and son Craig is covered with his handiwork - angels, geese, cats, of course, mermaids, with flamingo shutters on the windows and a porch railing made of fish. At a side entrance, heads of his friends mounted on posts greet visitors. A sign by the pink head of Darren, encourages rubbing the pate as a cure for baldness; apparently the shiny-topped Darren sprouted hair after his portrait went up. Three lovely, life-size ladies in long dresses stand on the front lawn and cast their gazes over Jeddore Harbour.

The colourful decor doesn’t stop at the front door: it’s just as bright and eccentric inside, with red-painted floorboards and birds and fish hanging from the ceiling.

Bob and Audrey, who just left as you came in, well, I have their heads out there, he says with a jerk of his head that indicates outside. Bettianne is serving egg-salad sandwiches, coffee and warm rhubarb crumble for lunch.

For me, it’s easier to carve someone’s head than to tell them you like and respect them.

He calls his workshop cheese for its triangular shape and Swiss-style polka dots. The showroom in the barn, which last year saw the traffic of 2,000 visitors, is painted sunshine yellow, and is guarded by two voluptuous mermaids, with green scaly tails and blue bikini bras.

His mermaids used to go topless, until an unappreciative neighbour spray-painted clothes on them, and since then I keep the nudes indoors, he says.

He likes carving nude women it’s an easy thing to remember, he says with a laugh, as his hands make the shape of an hourglass in the air.

And his favourite piece, he muses with help from Bettianne, who momentarily puts her hand on her hip and pouts fetchingly, is the full-size portrait of his wife. Dressed in a red gown, Bettianne’s likeness has a place of honour, on the roof of the fish shack across the road.

His work is carved with a chainsaw and crooked knife and then painted with marine paint. It sells in art galleries in Calgary, Toronto, Halifax and, of course, in the barn at West Jeddore.

Reflecting on the job title of artist, Colpitts strokes his chin for a moment.

Enough people call you something, you start to believe it after a while, he says.

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