Questions For Betsy Towns, Sculptor

Betsy Towns teaches Art History  at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts. Her sculptures appear in public and private collections around the US including major installations owned by the city of Charlotte, NC. Her recent work -- ceramic and mixed media installations --  is now being shown under the title Recapturing Childhood at the Red Sky Gallery in Charlotte, North Carolina.

How would you describe what you do?  

My most important mentor in sculpture is Xavier Toubes, who now works at the Art Institute in Chicago. He took my work seriously before I felt brave enough to take it seriously, and that made a huge difference in the way I valued what I made. In his lovely Spanish accent, he announced to me one day, “You are a maker of things.” It doesn’t sound so significant in my own tones, but it certainly approaches a description the activity in my studio. I make objects, carefully but playfully, and set a variety of stages for the objects to work with and against each other to create meaning. It takes a mouthful for me to say what Xavier said in six words.

Is this different than what other people think you do?

Yes. People see me teaching much more than they see me in the studio. Sometimes I find it easier to say, “I teach Art History,” than “I’m an Artist,” with all the baggage that word totes. More and more, I think of myself as artist first, but I don’t always claim that.

How do you know if you’re on the right track with a project?

When I can’t make myself leave the studio.

How do you go about making choices? 

Many ways. I do a lot of sketching, take photos of work in progress to get a little distance and see a little more clearly what adjustments I should make, and I play with the things I make: put them on wheels, on spring, on see-saws and on each other. I bring them in the house and live with them a bit. I think about the work before I fall asleep and sometimes wake up with solutions.

How do you know when you’re done?

One of my favorite artists is Joseph Cornell. Both his life and his work (meticulously crafted habitats for found objects) fascinate me. He gave many of his pieces away as gifts (to Susan Sontag, Lauren Bacall, a few ballerinas, and others he loved from afar). Sometimes, though, he would go to their houses and take the work back, either because he realized the piece was not finished, or because he no longer felt they should have the piece. I don’t go that far. My work is finished when it sells. Until then, it moves around, tries on clothes, gets a new set of wheels.

What’s your workspace like?

I have a little wooden shed in the back yard—six feet by ten—with a porch about the same size, a lean-to shed to house the kiln, and a large work table in the yard. I like best to work outside, and just have the tiny indoor space to protect my materials and work on the coldest days. 

What are your essential tools? 

My hands, my eyes and my kiln. I also like to use spoons and forks and a few pencil-shaped pieces of wood.

What’s the most surprising tool you use? 

When I go to the dentist, I ask for their cast-aside tooth-cleaning tools. Stainless steel picks with various curved points, all terrifying.

What was your biggest mistake or the one you learned the most from? 

Taking a real job. I keep learning so much from teaching, though, that I keep teaching.

A Gallery of Betsy Towns' Work

Betsy Towns' Website

River Lessons

          I just had the privilege of kayaking on a trip organized by Shane Benedict of Liquidlogic and Betsy Towns, two wonderful generous artists (both of whom will be interviewed later on this blog).  I had done a few rafting trips before, one roughly fifteen years ago and one almost twenty-five, but I had never been in a kayak.  We spent two days on a “wild and scenic” part of the Chattooga River which serves as the border of Georgia and South Carolina.

The group included ten adults, several of whom were long-time paddlers and guides, and nine children ages 4 to 10.  It was fascinating to watch the experts teach, take care of, coax, correct, console, and inspire the kids (and novice adults like me).  And, as we went along, it was impossible not to have a half-dozen, not very deep, but basic thoughts, including:

The River Will Go Where It Goes.  You can make choices, and you can take certain actions, but the river is going its way.  You can work with the current or around it, but if you fight it, don’t expect to win because...

The River Is Stronger Than You.  If you stand on the bottom or put your hand in to push off, you might be able to accomplish what you want, but don’t think it’s because you’re stronger.  It can take you down in a second.  It has toppled huge trees and tossed them high onto granite ledges.  It has worn through layers of rock, and, speaking of,...

There’s No Point in Cursing a Rock.  I spent a lot of time hung up on rocks and trying not to get hung up about them.  Similarly, my six-year old son kept finding himself stuck or jammed up, and he would cry, “Again?  Oh man!  Stupid rock!”  The rock has been there for centuries before our arrival and will be there for a long time afterwards.  Swearing at it does little good although it can be a logical response when you’re heading right for it because...

The River Is An Exercise in Managing Adrenaline and Anxiety, Fear and Frustration.  As I watched my children zigzag back and forth, I realized that as they learned to control their boats, they also were learning how to control themselves – both their bodies and their emotions.  They wanted to be good right away.  They wanted to be fast and smooth, and they were frustrated at their lack of skills.  They also found themselves scared at moments.  The first time my daughter tipped over, she came up crying.  The second time, however, she came up laughing.  Simultaneously, as we parents watched our kids, we were learning how to control our fear.  My son fell out of his boat, and my first reaction was to jerk towards him which meant I fell out of mine.  Now, instead of one person in the water, there was two.  I hadn’t helped him, couldn’t help him, and had made matters worse.  Luckily, I wasn’t needed because there was a calm, experienced adult, paying attention, ready to fish my son out because the guides knew...

The River Takes Planning and Preparation (if you want it to be rewarding). Shane and the other paddlers would scout out parts that would be challenging, plan routes, and station themselves to be ready if people got in trouble.  In fact, they had planned the entire trip this way, sending maps, arranging food, bringing boats and gear.  They not only had equipment and clothing for themselves, but for others, and they willingly shared it.  My family ended up borrowing gear from several people to stay warm because we weren’t ready for a day of near constant rain.   And, as we went along, the group willingly and  generously stopped if someone needed to change or make adjustments.  No one was rushed.   No one was made to feel like they were imposing or doing something wrong.  Perhaps it’s because the guides understood and we learned...

Going Back Is Usually Impossible (and even when it’s not, it’s probably not worth it).  There are times when you can’t stop no matter how much you may want to, so stop when you can, and when you can’t, keep going and try not to tip over.


There is much to be learned from a river.