In a land east of Eastport and north of, well, everywhere lives a group of peace-loving, bike-riding, song-singing, boat-rowing, garden-growing, fur-wearing creatures. And yes, the fur is fake.

They inhabit an island called North of North Eff, along with their four-legged friends, called Dofers and Peace Balls. These creatures come in all colors and sizes, though their shape is decidedly lean and lanky – must be all that bike riding – and while their faces have human characteristics, they’re not humans.

Welcome to the magical world of the Fofers (rhymes with gophers). The brainchild of Eastport artist Shana Barry, the Fofers are a multimedia creation that incorporates song, sculpture, handcraft, photography, animation, digital filmmaking and the Internet.

“We’re creating this whole world and it’s kind of a utopian world,” Barry said on a recent afternoon at The Tides Institute. “It’s the kind of place I would like to live in.”

If it sounds a bit like those other furry creatures who live in a peaceful and diverse little neighborhood called Sesame Street, it’s no coincidence. Barry, 31, spent her childhood on Peaks Island and in Gardiner watching “Sesame Street” and Jim Henson’s other Muppet creations. But the Fofers are their own distinct entity with their own message and concerns.

“I’ve come to see the Fofers as real and living in an idyllic place, yet they are still on planet Earth, so they are affected by global warming, pollution and other man-made disasters,” Barry said.

The project is the culmination of Barry’s many talents. For years, while living and working in Portland, she pursued her passion for sculpture, handcrafts and painting. She also was the lead singer of the Shoegazer-style band Seekonk. She met her husband, writer and filmmaker Chris “Crash” Barry, while both were living in the city.

They grew weary of the rapid development and ever-faster pace of life in southern Maine, so they decided to move to a place where they could pursue their creativity with fewer distractions. Eastport seemed ideal, even when they ended up shoveling driveways one winter when money got tight.

Though not exactly North of North Eff, the relative isolation of Maine’s easternmost city has given both Barrys a chance to let their imaginations run free. The fact that work isn’t exactly easy to come by in the area has pushed the couple to support themselves through their art.

“I’ve never questioned that decision,” Shana Barry said. “It’s very odd. I never looked back, and I don’t have a single regret about moving here. It’s a big thing to have the Internet. Because of that, I’m able to expose the work to a wider audience.”

The Fofers are on view through mid-September in a storefront installation in downtown Eastport. But their world comes alive on thefofers.com, where Barry and her husband have created an interactive world through song, short film clips, imagery and narrative. They even have FoferSpace, with profiles similar to MySpace.com. Think of it as a storybook for the 21st century.

“North of North Eff is a place with lots of trees and gardens,” Barry explains. “There are no cars, no asphalt, only bicycles, rowboats and sailboats. They’re very environmentally aware. They practice green building. They all pretty much do what they’re good at, and they all live the way they like to live.”

Each has its own persona and quirks. Otamo, who got her name when Shana was looking at the word “tomato” on a ketchup bottle and playing with how it would sound backward, has Big Bird-yellow fur. She’s the lead singer for Otamo and the Fofers, and her sound resembles Barry’s own ethereal voice. She loves nasturtiums, and her favorite food is popcorn.

Artin is a Dofer, and he likes to snuggle and run. Like his real-world counterparts, his favorite time of day is naptime, and he likes to eat eggs. Then there’s Ingee, a petite, white-furred Fofer who bakes bread and makes twig furniture in her spare time.

“She’s a pretty carefree kind of girl,” Barry said, smiling.

During a recent visit, the same could be said of Shana. Dressed in a muted red sundress and flip-flops, her long, honey-blond hair tucked behind her ears, she looked like a woman without a care in the world.

After chatting over lemonade, crackers and cheese at The Tides Institute while Crash took a break from his job there, she and a visitor walked a few blocks to her studio, which is a corner table in the living room where the couple is house-sitting.

A bag full of fur in shades of ruby red, cotton-candy pink, and ice blue was stacked neatly against the wall, while Seada, a purple Fofer with cafe au lait skin, awaited repair. To create each Fofer, she begins with a wire armature and builds muscles with sculpted fabric, which she then covers with fur. Their faces are made from air-drying clay painted with acrylics. The technique evolved out of Barry’s previous work creating puppets.

“Their personalities are apparent as soon as they’re created – something about their faces, something about their bodies,” Barry said. “And then I just use my imagination to think about what they like, what their talents are.”

For now, their talents are many and diverse. There’s a philosopher and a poet, a Web master and a gardener. They do what they like and like what they do, and if Barry has her way, they’re destined for great things.

“I’d love to see the Fofers star in an animated, full-length movie: The Fofers save the planet from a group of seven powerful, greedy humans hell-bent on destroying the Earth,” she says, “or something like that.”

Bike riding, bread baking, world saving – it’s all in a day’s work on North of North Eff.

For more information on The Fofers, visit www.thefofers.com. Kristen Andresen can be reached at 990-8287 and kandresen@bangordailynews.net.