Betsky’s unorthodox approach to curating befits his untraditional upbringing. His grandparents were anarchists, and Emma Goldman was his mother’s godmother. Born in Montana, Betsky moved to the Netherlands at age four, when his parents, both literature professors, received Fulbright teaching fellowships. Growing up outside Utrecht, he attended an experimental school—the teachers were called the students’ “coworkers.” “I’ve always felt like the outsider,” he says. “Not only was I American, but I was the smart-alecky kid in a country where you’re not supposed to show how smart you are.”
When he arrived at Yale, he had another dose of culture shock. “My freshman roommate had to explain football to me,” he recalls. Betsky went on to the Yale School of Architecture, where he met Frank Gehry, then a visiting professor. Gehry hired Betsky as an associate in his L.A. firm; he worked there for two years. “He has an inquiring mind,” says Gehry of Betsky. “He questions stuff, and he’s not afraid to show his taste. At times I disagree with him, but I’m always pleased he put it on the table.”
Hani Rashid of New York’s Asymptote Architecture says that Betsky has “a nose for architecture’s edge,” embracing minimalism in the 1980s, for example, “when opulence and conservativism reigned.”
The last architecture biennale, curated by Ricky Burdett, dealt with the dilemmas of urbanism and was praised for its real-world approach. How the critics will respond to a curatorial vision that is more about fantasy remains to be seen. “Mostly, I hope it’s an exercise in raising questions,” Betsky says. “We need to realize what’s already around us and reuse it, rearrange it, rethink it. It’s not necessarily about the making of a bright, shiny, new thing,” he continues, and then cracks a smile. “Although I have a weakness for that too.”
