PHOTO BY KRISTY GRAVER

Artist Jeff Bertrand gazes around a guest room in his Brighton Heights home and wonders aloud if it could accommodate a life-sized Ronald McDonald statue.

Aesthetically, the iconic clown would fit right in. The space houses Bertrand’s museum of food company mascots, from Cap’n Crunch and Chuck E. Cheese to Mr. Peanut and the Keebler Elves.

As a fellow Happy Meal toy hoarder, I’m lovin’ it!

“One thing turned into two, two turned into a shelf, a shelf turned into a display case and now it’s an entire room,” Bertrand says with a laugh.

PHOTO BY KRISTY GRAVER

Overnight guests can rest their heads on candy pillows and snuggle under a bedspread that’s decorated with hotdogs. There’s a pizza rug on the floor, a Slush Puppie balloon hanging from the ceiling and a small army of Col. Sanderses cradling buckets of fried chicken. A large, anthropomorphic M&M stands in a corner next to the Jolly Green Giant.

If Bertrand’s collection gets any bigger, he’s going to have to make like the Kool-Aid Man and knock down a wall.

ARTIST JEFF BERTRAND. PHOTO BY KRISTY GRAVER

In 2020, Bertrand, who is a barber by trade, and his wife, Myka, moved to Pittsburgh from Nashville. Back then, his advertising icon assortment was more manageable; just a few Monster Cereal figurines he used as reference points for his dark folk art paintings and sculptures.

Now that he’s a bonafide yinzer, he’s got an inflatable Heinz ketchup bottle, a passel of plush Pittsburgh Pierogies and plenty of Eat’n Park Smiley Cookie swag. StarKist’s Charlie the Tuna, a former Steel City resident, is also represented. Bertrand, who, like Andy Warhol, is inspired by commericalism and won a Scholastic Arts & Writing Award when he was 17 years old, was pleased to learn that nearby Uniontown is the birthplace of the Big Mac.

Using unorthodox canvases such as Ouija boards, gas cans, axes and meat cleavers, the 40-year-old places cartoonish characters against the backdrop of a dystopian wasteland. The abandoned factories in his work are a nod to both Pittsburgh’s industrial past and his short stint working third shift at a corporate bakery in Tennessee. His creepy creations have graced everything from album covers and T-shirts to beer cans.

As demand for his art grew like a fast food junkie’s waistline, so did his collection. When I walked into the room and feasted my eyes, a shelf full of Hamburger Helper hands seemed to wave hello. I’ve never seen so many Sour Patch Kids and Pillsbury Doughboys in one place.

When he’s not cutting hair at Mec Modern Barbering in Mt. Lebanon, he’s making art, selling it at shows and scouring thrift stores for nostalgic foodie finds. Although the Ronald McDonald statue remains elusive, he did manage to score a vintage California Raisins Halloween costume like the one he wore trick-or-treating as a toddler.

Unlike Dot Sharp, a local woman who recently retired from the Gibsonia McDonald’s after 45 years of service, Bertrand doesn’t remember the glory days of Grimace, but he is drawn to the company’s clever promotions and red-and-yellow color scheme, which has been shown to stimulate appetite. Last year, when McDonald’s offered Adult Happy Meals complete with collectible toys, Bertrand was the first in line.

As a wave of nostalgia sweeps the nation and more discontinued characters make a comeback, Bertrand says he’d love to design a mascot for a local eatery.

In the meantime, he’ll continue to make art — and room in his house for Ronald McDonald.