David Hostetler
by Sarah Teach
Although he is primarily known for his sculpture, Hostetler has crafted an extensive body of paintings and does not prefer one method to the other. “I love it all,” he gushes with one exaggerated nod and a single condition: “As long as it’s women!” He admits that in his eightieth decade, it behooves him to perform the less taxing work of painting in lieu of standing for hours on end, pounding with a mallet and chisel. “Sculpting can really kick your ass, physically,” says Hostetler. But forget buns of steel; Hostetler chooses to sculpt his women from wood. “Before I even begin, wood possesses inherent beauty. Unlike writing or even painting, I’m already starting off with something beautiful.” Never one to be one-dimensional, Hostetler has also sculpted from polished bronze throughout the decades. “Sometimes,” he remarks with a raised brow, “the sculpture needs to durable.”
Rarely seen without his signature black bandana, Hostetler has been known to sit on the bench outside his Centre Street gallery and listen to passersby remark on his art. Hostetler reveals, “It causes quite a tittering. Humans are embarrassed by sexuality. You know, dads will joke about it; their kids will giggle.” But the artist has no apologies for his work. In fact, after 61 years of crafting the female figure, it seems as if Hostetler’s passion is just getting fired up.
Hostetler, a native of rural Ohio, has Amish roots that have served as groundwork for his core values. “I was drawn the ideas of simplicity and self-reliance,” says the artist. “Back then, they called it ‘having survivalist skills.’ So when the 60s came, I was ready, baby!” With the help of some like-minded gentle people, Hostetler built a working commune on his own 40-acre Ohio property. “I was in my forties by then, so I ended up being kind of Grandpa Hippie. We had gardens; we grew our food; we made art. At one point, I would guess we had a thousand people living there.” Hostetler is astonishingly casual about this number. “But of course,” he allows, tossing his hand in the direction of the ground, “It failed, as all of them did. Humans without some sort of guide tend to revert to selfishness.” Hostetler tells the tale of one woman in the commune who toiled hard to plant potatoes, though no one was keen to help her. Come harvest time, the former idlers were suddenly eager to help her eat the crops. With neither disdain nor veneration, Hostetler says: “I think of that as my most sophomoric and idealistic time period.”
When Hostetler ventured away from his Midwest home, he didn’t leave his values behind. “I got to Nantucket in 1970, when I was 44, with the first wave of hippies that came out here. We scared the hell out of the WASPS!” he recalls, guffawing. “Of course, it was a sweet young thing that brought me here. She just loved Nantucket; it was the only thing she ever talked about with enthusiasm.”
For the past 27 years, however, the leading lady in Hostetler’s life has been his wife, Susan Crehan-Hostetler, who runs the downtown Hostetler Gallery. “A lot of people have told me that she is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and to my art,” he says. Just a few minutes with Crehan-Hostetler in the gallery affirms this. She says, “I love David’s work because it’s not all fingers and toes; it’s interpretive. You have to craft your own story. The first summer when we were courting, I had this a-ha moment when I was looking at a piece of his work—a head—and I just realized, ‘Wow! This is really amazing.’ Now I’m always seeing new lines and new ways that the light hits the wood, and it’s just timeless.”
When Hostetler met and fell for Crehan-Hostetler, his art took yet another new turn. He recalls, “I started doing these sculptures of two people merging. It was all about partnering. When you partner, there’s a gain and there’s also loss. All that Gestalt theory stuff.” He waves one well-worn hand in the air. “It’s funny though, that no one has ever commented on the fact that [the sculpture subjects] are both women. People just assume that the bigger one is a male. If I were a woman, I would be a lesbian. There’s no question in my mind,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m a T&A man, that’s for sure. Anthropologically, it’s been proven that the hourglass figure is presold.” Demonstrating the shapes in the air with his fingers, he says, “Wide hips and large breasts signify childbearing ability.”
But Hostetler does not believe there is one specific ideal of a beautiful woman. His eyes dance with the exclamation: “There are so many women, all different!” One painting that hangs on a wall in his home seems to sum up his entire artistic theory: four stick figures, each with two small circles for breasts and a different shape for a torso. The first is a literal hourglass with sharp corners; the second is an upside-down triangle alongside its more curvaceous cousin, a strawberry shape; then finally, a circle. “This is a very key piece,” says the artist. “It came to me in a dream in the 90s. I keep a drawing pad by my bed since we forget our dreams so quickly, and I want to channel those subconscious thoughts. I saw these iconic images of women in a back field in the country, so I drew them. It was 3 a.m. Susan wakes up and sees me and says, “‘What are you doing?'” and I said, “‘I’m drawing.'” For me, real art comes from the subconscious.”
Hostetler says that art and its method of creation have changed in his lifetime. “Today, froth is more important. [Thomas] Kinkade and all that that? Obvious scam.” He shakes his head and discloses, “I see a loss of craftsmanship. Art school used to be like a trade school; it was that way for a long time.” He cites a lack of the hands-on work that he and his contemporaries took on during the years when he was earning his fine arts degrees. “But,” he says quietly yet confidently, “It’ll go back.” After spending some 38 years as an art professor at his alma mater, Ohio University, Hostetler offers some valuable nuggets for aspiring artists: “If you go into art for the money, you’re going in for the wrong reason. You need to create what makes you happy, not what is going to sell. I am very lucky that people happen to like what I do.” Hostetler squints and says, “I don’t think making art’s normal.” The artist’s eyes light up brilliantly as he mulls over this thought.
Never mind the lack of a recorded jazz album, Hostetler’s life is not completely free of media. In 2008 came The Last Dance, an hour-long documentary about Hostetler’s life and career, which won four Emmys and has been picked up by major networks. The film is available at Hostetler Gallery at 42 Centre Street, where Crehan-Hostetler’s handpicked selection of her husband’s work is on display. “I’m always intrigued when people buy something,” says the artist. “You’re taking something into your home, into your life. I’ve formed some enduring friendships with some of the people who buy my art.”
Hostetler Gallery is open daily from May through October. Drop by for a quick browse, a moment of reflection, a beautiful new addition to your collection, and maybe even a chance meeting with Nantucket’s ladies’ man himself.