I thought I knew a thing or two about photography, love and life … until I met Wolfgang Hoffmann. He became my mentor and taught me pretty much everything I know about photography and a fair bit about life and love as well.
Wolfgang passed away yesterday from congestive heart failure.
I met Wolfgang almost 30 years ago to the day in the summer of 1986. I was a new grad student in the Department of Agricultural Journalism at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and ventured down to the dungeons of the old building at 440 Henry Mall where the Film and Photography Unit was headquartered. I discovered Little Germany then as I heard the thick German accents of Fritz Albert and Wolfgang Hoffmann discussing the merits of a German-made Arriflex 16 mm film camera or the latest developments in the German-made Leica M series of rangefinder cameras. I didn’t have a viewpoint on either but for the next two years got to know Wolfgang at AJ social functions or when he would come up to the second floor coffee machine and I’d pick his brain with some photography questions.
In early 1988 I finished my degree and was packing up things in my little cubicle in the Ag Journalism building when Wolfgang popped in. In his blunt German manner, he said ‘Stick around and work with me in the Film Unit’. I was confused with what he was saying but eventually he managed to explain that he wanted me to join him and make 16 mm documentary films on agricultural issues. I politely declined as I was heading elsewhere. ‘Grab your coffee mug,’ Wolfgang insisted. ‘I want to show you something.’ I followed him to his dungeon and he pulled out a stack of 16 mm film cans and fired up the projector. For the next couple of hours, I sat silently and watched some of the best documentary films I had ever seen. There was something powerful in those documentaries which moved me greatly. Wolfgang was a gifted storyteller, cameraman and film editor all rolled in one and the outputs just floored me. Wolfgang turned off the projector and turned on the lights. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he said expecting that I would make a big life decision then and there. In fact, I had made up my mind after the first film. I HAD to work with this talented man, I’d be a fool not to. ‘What’s our first project?’ I asked.
And so began a bromance which profoundly shaped my life.
For two years, Wolfgang and I seemed to be inseparable and there was nothing happening in our lives which the other didn’t know about. We travelled to all corners of the upper Midwest with film and still cameras in tow. We’d stay in budget hotels and fuel ourselves with cheap McDonald’s coffee. We slogged through pig farms in Iowa, slaughter houses in Missouri, state-of-the-art agricultural research facilities at Purdue University in Indiana or Christmas tree farms in northern Wisconsin. Wolfgang loved those road trips and couldn’t be happier when he was behind his Arriflex or Leica. Wolfgang loved to mingle with the salt of the earth but farmers would scratch their head though when this tall, smiling German would descend on them and chat about the weather or this year’s corn harvest. They would look to me to translate. Wolfgang spoke English better than I did but you had to get used to that German accent.
On those long road trips, Wolfgang would tell me endless stories of growing up in post-war Germany and of his family in Munich, of how he bought his first Leica M rangefinder and travelled Europe and of how Fritz Albert travelled to Germany to find the best and brightest filmmaker and came home with Wolfgang. I never tired of those stories.
Wolfgang was a ridiculously generous man and nothing surpassed the generosity he showed in teaching others the art of photography. As a university photography instructor he was loved and admired by his students who appreciated his patience and encouragement. He mentored me in every aspect of photography and selflessly taught me everything he knew. But I could never come anywhere near to mastering his greatness. Countless times Wolfgang and I would whip out our cameras and start shooting the same subject…but his always came out so much better.
He had a gift, a special rare eye and of course that pair of Leicas. He had a distinct photographic style which I would be able to identify for years later anytime I would see a University of Wisconsin publication. Wolfgang loved his 16 and 20 mm lenses and would stick his camera right into a subject’s nose it seemed. It would bring the viewer into the photo … make the viewer part of the image. And yet despite his use of such extreme lenses he’d never have any distortion and always … and I mean always … his images were razor sharp.
Wolfgang and I bonded not so much for our interest in photography but because we were both bachelors and both looking for soulmates. We spoke endlessly about women, love and relationships. He had a huge heart and desperately wanted someone to love. He was so grateful in those days that he had his son, Matt, to shower with his love. Wolfgang did find love in those days so and as soon as he sorted himself out he then tried to help me out.
Wolfgang and I were kindred spirits in more than one way. We shared the same birthday – October 8th. I have never fussed about birthdays and in those days my birthdays would go unnoticed but they became special with Wolfgang. He would wish me a happy birthday first and only after a while of appreciating his wishes would I realise it was also his birthday.
It was Wolfgang who introduced me to my greatest love at the time: my motorcycle. On those glorious days when the Wisconsin weather would permit he’d roll up to work on his beloved Honda CX500. ‘We’ve got to get one of these for you,’ he’d say as I’d admire his machine. And one day he did. He came in all excited to my office waving a newspaper and yelled ‘C’mon. Let’s go to Baraboo’. I panicked and couldn’t figure out what was so urgent. ‘There’s a CX500 for you. C’mon. No time.’ We took the afternoon off work and jumped in his VW camper van and headed north. And it was in Baraboo that I discovered the most beautiful piece of work I had ever seen. I bought the CX500 on the spot and then realised I didn’t know how to drive a motorcycle, particularly a largish one like the CX500. Not to worry. Wolfgang handed me the keys to the VW and fired up the Honda. I followed him back to Madison and even from behind his helmet I could see a huge smile on his face. He just loved feeling that fresh air in rural Wisconsin race around him. It was typical Wolfgang day for me. He was always looking out to help people, always willing to do what it takes to bring happiness to someone else. He did have a motive though and wanted a mate to create a motorcycle gang. We’d have great trips on weekends on our quiet Japanese bikes in a land ruled by noisy Harleys.
Wolfgang was a big and strong man but did have one weakness. He could never pass a rural Wisconsin diner and not go in for pie and coffee. I reckon he and I visited every country diner in Wisconsin. The routine was always the same. We’d arrive at the door and knock the snow off our Sorrel boots and walk in while the little hanging door bell would wake up the waitress. We’d keep our fluffy jackets and hats on until we’d warm up. The waitress would approach and Wolfgang would emit his charm and a huge smile and then say something which he thought was amusing. ‘Excuse me?’ the waitress would say. Wolfgang would smile and say it again and she’d look at me for translation. I’d shrug my shoulders and say ‘’We’ll have coffee and pie please’.
By 1990, videos were replacing 16 mm films and the University no longer had the money to keep the film unit alive. My services were no longer needed so I ventured off. But I kept in touch with Wolfgang. In December of 1994, Padma and I flew in from Colombia just in time for Wolfgang’s wedding. In a moment I will never forget, Wolfgang handed his precious Leica to me before the service and said ‘Will you do me the honors?’ The master was finally relinquishing to his apprentice on this very important day. I was so honoured.
The last time I saw Wolfgang was during a snowstorm in Elk Mound, Wisconsin in 2005. I was in northern Wisconsin only for a short time while visiting from Australia and couldn’t make it to Madison. But as great friends do, Wolfgang offered to drive up half way up the state to meet me … and yes, we found a country diner and had pie and coffee. He had changed a lot since those earlier days – most notably, he distanced himself from Germany by trading in his Leicas for a Canon DSLR – but he was very happy and had found love.
Lately, I’ve frequently felt Wolfgang’s presence. I post a lot of photos and stories on Facebook which usually go unnoticed and unread. But not by Wolfgang. My old mate has always been there giving me a thumbs up on my photos, always encouraging me to write more stories and take more photos. Always being the most genuine and kind-hearted friend that any person could have.
It seems ironic that a man with such a huge heart would die of heart failure. I will miss him dearly and send my deepest sympathies to Katharine and Matt and Wolfgang’s extended family in Wisconsin and Germany.
