For those who swear to his genius, it is the artistic vision of Bern Porter that draws their praise. For others, his visage is more than enough.

With his old clothes, gnarled cane and flowing white mane, the 90-year-old Porter is one of the most recognizable figures in Belfast, a city with more than its share of colorful characters. Wearing brightly colored socks for gloves and bundled up to stave off the cold even in summer, he has for decades cut quite a figure as he commandeered one or another downtown street corner to share his opinions on life, politics and art with anyone who cares to listen.

Be it rummaging through trash cans for “objets d’art,” cadging sugar packets from a local restaurant, sniffing out a party, or stuffing his pockets with food from the buffet table at gallery openings, Porter has never been shy about announcing his presence.

And whether making atomic bombs or making waves, Porter has carved out a quirky reputation in Belfast and beyond. He has been described as a modern artist, maverick publisher, rebel physicist and founder of founds. Clearly eccentric, he is viewed by his acolytes as a genius. By others, a crank.

“My major focus is to carry on some of the principles of fusing physics with poetry and humanity,” he said recently. “And by physics I don’t mean a laxative.”

Since the day he left the family farm at Porter Settlement near Houlton in the 1930s to follow a keen and driving interest in mathematics, Porter has left a mark in literature and a stamp on history. His life’s work is well known, be it nuclear explosions or artistic implosions.

Colby College led to Brown University which, in turn, led to Princeton University, Los Alamos, N.M., and the Manhattan Project. Porter helped build the atomic bomb, yet walked away from nuclear physics when he saw the results first hand.

“I have radioactivity in my body,” he said with a shrug.

“We [the scientists] used to go on picnics and we used to talk about the [fissionable] material being used for peace. We certainly didn’t want it dropped to destroy a country,” Porter recalled. “I was at Hiroshima and what I saw was incredible. I was looking for a big future in physics but after the bomb was dropped in 1945, I went off on my own.”

Porter headed west to San Francisco to hang out with Henry Miller, Jack Kerouac and the beat poets; “All the big operators and I’m pretty sure there were others. They bought the drinks and I drank them.”

Porter opened one of the first West Coast galleries showing abstract and surreal art, became involved with NASA’s space program during the 1960s and came back home to Maine where he ran for governor in 1969, served as development consultant for the Knox County planning commission and then moved to Belfast in 1972, carrying with him the Institute for Advanced Thinking.

According to Porter, the institute was founded in Ireland in 1630, moved to Maine in 1830 and to Belfast in 1972 and “is the oldest institute of its kind in the English-speaking world.” It is dedicated to free thought, free association and free lunch, he says.

“We support worldwide art, architecture, community, literature, music, poetry, sculpture and theater,” he explained.

Porter views the institute as a “think tank” for the avant-garde. It is always open, and there is usually a guest or two on the premises to tend to Porter’s few needs. When he is alone, friends and supporters from the community stop by to make sure he is taking care of himself.

The yard of the institute is filled with sculpture made from found objects such as old furniture and metal products culled from trash or salvaged from the roadside. The interior walls are graced with rusted automobile fenders and hoods.

“Those are not car parts, they are contemporary artifacts,” he said. “My yard is free and open to everyone. They can bring in anything.”

By Porter’s own reckoning, he has written more than 200 books, created works of art that are in collections on every continent, circled the world “at least” three times and carried out liaisons with hundreds of women, including erotica author Anais Nin, the subject of his four-part remembrance, “My Affair with Anais Nin Parts 1-3” and “I Pursue Her Still: Bern Porter on Anais Nin.”

Affairious activity is also the subject of his 1999 four-part work, “Monica, Monica,” “Monica Lewinsky, We All Want Some of Yours,” “Don’t Fail Us Monica,” “That Trio Again: Monica, Hillary, and Bill!”

Porter’s publisher, Roger Jackson of Ann Arbor, Mich., simply describes him as “a marvel.” Jackson said he is “consistently amazed” by Porter’s stamina and perseverance. He said the Belfast man has a unique perspective and despite his age continues to tackle his topics with maximum drive and energy.

“He’s fast, he’s prompt and though he’s coming up in years he’s always enthused and his enthusiasm never wavers,” Jackson said. “I’m amazed at his creativity, the way his mind works and the way he looks at the world. He’s just offbeat, and his mind is just a wonder. Regardless of how wacky the subject, he’s right there.”

Then there’s Bern Porter International, the newsletter of the Institute of Advanced Thinking. Editor Sheila Holtz of Philadelphia started the publication 15 years ago in recognition of Porter’s contribution to abstract thinking and modern art.

“This is the focus of all my creative energy,” Holtz proclaimed during a visit to Belfast last summer. “Bern is the center of the real world and having come here to see him I quickly discovered that Bern is the center of the unreal world, too.”

Holtz said she was attracted to Porter’s work because of his attempts to meld physics with poetry and language. She said his vision of a world of poetry and physics have established a context for the future of art.

“It’s not totally necessary to be a scientist. He inspires people whose works straddle more than one discipline,” she said. “Bern is incredibly inspiring. Just by being in his presence, I feel more creative and productive. There is no physical explanation; I just feel his creative energy. I kind of look on Bern as one of those rare people who just has this vibration.”

Porter’s fame is not confined to the lexicon of physics, language, art and academe. He also is known the world over thanks to the etherland of the Internet. All anyone with Internet access needs to do is search his name and they will find enough articles to get a detailed handle on the man’s life and avocation. There is also a personal biography published by Tilbury House in 1992. “where to go, what to do, when you are Bern Porter” was written by James Schevill, who has known Porter for more than 50 years.

Though he has been hobbled by a hernia lately, and can’t get around town as much as he used to, Porter still can be found at his beloved Institute spewing abstract concepts and railing at his other pet peeve, Belfast City Hall.

Because his persona swings wildly from gadfly to curmudgeon and back again, Porter has never worn well in the corridors of power. He is footloose with his bombastic accusations and convinced of their legitimacy.

“I think it’s about time the City Council settled down and took an interest in Belfast,” Porter growled. “They never have and they never will. There’s no connection with the people.”

Porter’s latest publication, “Insiders Guide to Belfast, Maine,” is a satirical and critical look at what he perceives as the city’s dark side, the one left out of its promotional brochures. Combining pictures of rundown parts of the city with personal observations, the thin, 26-copy edition has touched a nerve, according to Porter.

“I heard the city manager and the City Council don’t like it and they don’t like me,” he said. “So what. Their motto is ‘If you don’t like it in Belfast, you can always go to east Belfast. Well, I haven’t moved over to east Belfast yet.”‘