Betty Woolfolk, the longtime executive director of Gallery Route One whose own works delved into the realm of fantastical pop science, died on June 29.
Ms. Woolfolk was a constantly curious artist who loved to shop and spend time with friends when she wasn’t working on her ongoing installation, called “The Museum of Curious Thought.” She led the nonprofit gallery, of which she was a founding member, for over three decades, and organized the well-known Box Show fundraisers. She also served for years on the board of West Marin Community Services, organizing the Thanksgiving dinner and creating the display at the thrift store.
“Her work had its wacky side, but it was very mysterious and very inventive and satirical… She had a wonderful mind,” said her friend Mary Eubank, a project co-director at the gallery.
Betty was born in 1947 and grew up in Iowa. Her interest in collecting objects to repurpose had its roots in childhood weekends: her father would take her to the plant where he made vending machine parts and she would wander around, scouring for discards.
She earned a master’s of fine art, with a focus on fiber arts, from Cranbrook Academy in Detroit in 1971. She then moved to California, soon making her way to Inverness.
Betty shared a studio with Donna Sheehan in Point Reyes Station in the 1970s. In the ’80s she also ran a shop in Olema called Frou Frou La Negra, full of quirky odds and ends, according to her longtime partner, Nick Corcoran. Though it scratched her shopping itch, it wasn’t a profitable business and she eventually closed shop.
But the organization that became a major part of her life and community had already begun to take shape: a cohort of local artists decided to create a cooperative art gallery.
“At the time, there had been galleries in West Marin, but there was no constant place to show your work,” said Zea Morvitz, a friend and project space co-director at the gallery. “We wanted to have a place where we ourselves could do it.”
The cooperative, originally housed in the Creamery Building, morphed into a nonprofit in 1983. Betty, a founding member originally in charge of membership, became the executive director. She wasn’t a typical leader in some ways, Ms. Morvitz said, but that was a strength.
“She didn’t exactly have a take-charge personality, but I think that’s why she was so loved in that role. She did it with grace; she wasn’t autocratic,” Ms. Morvitz said, adding that Betty would sometimes quietly use part of her own salary to pay for extra work that was needed.
Betty also purchased merchandise for the gallery store, which is still full of her picks: alien-like, brightly colored stuffed creatures, colorful statement jewelry (some made out of upcycled beer bottles) and felt-covered soap, to name a few items.
Her love of shopping and her community work combined in the display arrangements she made for the thrift store, which former store manager Jane Vait said was one of the highlights of the week. “I always looked forward to Tuesday mornings, when Betty would arrive and the inspiration began,” Ms. Vait said in an email. “Our favorite ‘play’ was dressing Barbie and sometimes Ken. Every once in a while Barbie needed to be scolded for being bad and Betty always gave her a break. Barbie appeared in all of Betty’s windows.”
Betty also organized the Box Show, a longtime fundraiser in which about 150 artists fill a box with their artistic creations, which are then auctioned off. Mr. Corcoran had the original idea for the fundraiser, but said most of the credit should go to Betty and others. “All I did was come up with the idea and build the boxes. Betty organized the artists and hung the show with Mary Eubank. There would be no Box Show without Betty,” he said.
Gallery Route One constituted a huge part of Betty’s life, but she was also an artist in her own right. She was known for her playful, madcap installations that were often infused with humor and mystery, sometimes with the help of a beaded curtain entrance or, for a Halloween installation, a mysterious liquid that attendees would dip their hands into.
One friend said that, a few years ago, Betty had an installation at the gallery that included a world map of physical-enhancement tourism—that is, where people traveled to get Botox or different kinds of plastic surgery. Another series from a ’90s installation was made mostly from domino pieces.
Her long passion, though, was for the ongoing series called the “Museum of Curious Thought.” It contained pseudo-scientific inventions, with many materials coming second-hand from yard sales, thrift stores and friends. “She always collected bits and pieces to reassemble. Her art was very unusual,” Mr. Corcoran said.
The gallery now has five of her pieces on display. One, called “Alien Medicine Cabinet,” is a tall wooden cabinet containing a small, unhappy, bleeding alien figurine who looks a little like he’s trying to hide, along with a few empty vials, like a forgotten experiment. Another, called “Replicator,” has two metal cages containing plastic bean pods connected by neon green and yellow tubing. Yet another, called “Stimulator,” includes a transparent globe covered with dangling beads and baubles, and yet another is a “vaporizer.”
“She had a complete appreciation of science and pop culture,” Ms. Morvitz said. “She created an atmosphere in a memorable way. When she got into older vintage stuff, it felt like she stumbled into a 19th-century laboratory. We take scientific innovation for granted, and she stops you and you think, do you really know what you’re seeing? That’s an important part of her work.”
Betty Woolfolk is survived by her husband, Nick Corcoran, and her brother Bruce Woolfolk. A memorial gathering for Betty will take place at at Gallery Route One on Sunday, July 24 at 5 p.m.