NORTHAMPTON — Carolyn Cushing remembers the first time she met Dave Rothstein, when he showed up as a new land protection specialist at the offices of the Mass Audubon Arcadia Wildlife Sanctuary. The first thing he did, Cushing recalls, was ask if he could give her a hug.
“He had a big personality,” said Cushing, who later became the poet laureate for the city of Easthampton. “He would often burst in the office with something interesting to say. Sometimes he would just exclaim ‘Science!'”
But like Cushing, Rothstein, of Northampton, who died earlier this month at age 57, soon became known in the community for his creative endeavors outside his conservation work. He immersed himself in the world of ice and snow sculpture, a hobby he picked up while clerking for the Alaska Supreme Court before eventually returning to Massachusetts, the state of his birth.
After some time working for the Environmental Protection Agency in Boston, Rothstein moved to the Pioneer Valley to work for the Department of Interior’s Fish and Wildlife Service in Hadley. That move suited his ice-sculpting hobby, with the city of Northampton holding an annual Ice Art Festival exhibiting sculptures downtown, an event at which Rothstein was a frequent contributor.
But Rothstein didn’t just stop at ice sculpture. He also became a mint farmer, a photographer and contributed an art installation of a life-size hay sculpture of a flying Volkswagen Beetle at Park Hill Orchard farm, aptly titled “Beetle in a Haystack.”
Alane Hartley, co-owner of Park Hill Orchard along with her husband Russell Braen, also remembers the first time she met Rothstein. The farm had solicited Rothstein for his expertise in another one of his lifelong passions — doughnuts.
“When we started bringing doughnuts on at the orchard, we asked him to be one of the doughnut testers,” Hartley said. “Whenever you were hanging out with Dave, it was very enjoyable and fun.”
Braen recalled Rothstein’s seeming ability to pursue so many different passion projects at once, approaching all of them with the same enthusiasm and dedication.
“He set goals for himself, and then focused on them,” Braen said. “He learned to live without distractions. He was a gregarious little guy.”
One of Rothstein’s last major feats came in 2023, when he accomplished another ambitious goal — paddling 40 miles down the Deerfield and Connecticut rivers in a hollowed out, 1,000-pound pumpkin.
In addition to aspiring to break a Guinness World Record, Rothstein hoped to use his pumpkin-paddle journey to bring public attention to the Connecticut River watershed, part of his environmental conservation work.
“I’m not actually feeling tired. I’m feeling enthused and happy and supported,” Rothstein told the Gazette following the completion of his voyage. “It feels wonderful to accomplish something you set out to do and bring people together in the process.”
Rothstein had also approached the pinnacle of the ice-sculpture world several months before his passing, announcing in May he had been chosen among several artists around the world to design a suite at the famous Ice Hotel in Sweden, a new iteration of which is built every winter in the far north of the Scandinavian country.
Rothstein, along with two other ice sculpture artists, designed a nature-themed suite for this year’s Ice Hotel titled “A Parliament of Owls.” On the Ice Hotel’s website, the suite is described as intending to “soothe and inspire.” Rothstein was set to travel to Sweden days before unexpectedly passing.
“The rising moon and the forest’s depth evoke a sense of sanctuary. The Parliament’s muted chatter is otherworldly — a lullaby that is mysterious, yet serene,” the site describes the suite. “Sleep well under the watchful eye.”
Cushing said she was working to put together a celebration of life event for Rothstein, an event she described as a “gathering inspired by the spirit and creativity” of Rothstein’s life work. Though she said a date had yet to be determined, she was working to connect with people in the Mass Audubon and local arts communities.
“He had so many friends,” Cushing said. “People would have one conversation with him, and then they would become his special friend.”