Archive notice: This article was originally published on May 15, 2010. Links and embedded videos are preserved as part of the historical record.
Stefan Huschenbeth, who died on April 30, 2010, was valued in the scene for the quality of his work and was equally known for his inimitable manner. Originally working as a photographer and graphic designer, Stefan entered the professional CGI field with Softimage 3D as early as 1996 and rather quickly made a name for himself, particularly through productions for Nordsee, Bosch and Lucky. Over the past 15 years he worked for many agencies and production houses in Germany, especially in advertising.
On a personal level, too, he leaves a great void: for everyone who knew Stefan personally and worked with him, the news of his death came as a great surprise. The fascinating mixture of friend, role model and mentor, but also philosophical lateral thinker and irrepressible optimist, describes his complex personality only superficially. The personal words of some of his friends make this clear:
Stefan was one of a kind. No one is like him, and he was never like anyone else. I knew him for almost 20 years as a modern, selfless rebel and proud outsider. He detested rules; he wanted to be the freest person on earth, and he lived that aspiration to the full.
Through his manner, he always helped me look beyond the obvious. Only when he kept showing it to me did I realise how rarely we actually do that. His boundless self-confidence inspired me greatly. I will never forget our endless evenings of conversation and films with him. They were unique.
Stefan, “you awesome guy”, I hope you are happy, wherever you may be. You have left a huge hole. It will be very difficult to fill it again – if that is possible at all.
I am glad that we were friends, and I will miss you very much.
izzy acar
Many years ago, I had to output an extremely unexciting industrial-film animation to Betaband. A good friend of mine told me at the time that he knew someone who had a Beta and where I could transfer it to tape. We drove there and, in my imagination, there was a technology freak sitting in his hobby basement. To my astonishment, on the way there I already heard: no, no, he was also a 3D artist and mostly worked on TV commercials.
My uncertainty immediately grew. What would he think of someone who turned up with a really flimsy animation? My nervousness grew even more when, instead of entering a basement filled with technology, I entered a wonderful apartment in an old building. When we were in his office, which admittedly was filled with technology after all, he said he just had to finish something quickly, but that we could already get started. I simply stared in awe at what he was doing and hoped he would remain occupied for as long as possible. Preferably until we were finished. Preferably until the tape was in the bag. I was extremely curious about his work, but under no circumstances wanted to risk him seeing any of the rubbish that was being output to tape. Of course, that did not happen. He did look at the animation after all, and I wanted the ground to swallow me up. But to my surprise, he was completely relaxed and open-minded; we started talking, and suddenly he said I was the person who had made those illustrations and called up a few of them on the monitor. He thought they were really interesting.
I owe Stefan a great deal; he believed in me from the beginning. At times he was my teacher and mentor, showed me classic 3D approaches, made me think about things I would not have discovered that way, and repeatedly amazed me with his good eye and his sure instinct for cinematic aspects.
But he was also unique in private: during jobs I often stayed with him, and you always felt part of the family, never like a stranger or intruder. We often sat in the office until late at night discussing films while a rendering was running.
Above all, however, he was a great friend who, in his inimitable way, always knew how to build me up again and more than once gave me the self-confidence I needed to tackle one job or another. Stefan, I will miss you incredibly.
Tim Borgmann
Stefan installed my first 3D software on my computer and showed me what one could do with it. When I was admitted to the entrance examination at the Filmakademie, I called him to ask for advice. At the time I knew very little about dramaturgy, how to break down a film and so on, was under extreme time pressure and felt extremely uncertain. He told me that he was driving, was on his way on holiday with his family and could not talk at that moment. So we ended the conversation. Half an hour later I suddenly received a call; Stefan was on the phone. He said they had now stopped at a service area and that he was now available for me. From that moment on, Stefan had a permanent place in my heart.
He always believed in me and supported me; he was my mentor and adviser in every situation in life, full of inspiring thoughts that will continue to resonate for a long time, a source of good humour, with the ability to see the positive aspects even in negative events, and probably one of the most intelligent people I knew. I will miss you very much, Stefan.
Onni Pohl
When I met Stefan in 1997 at an in-house exhibition held by dcp during a presentation on Softimage 3D, his funny yet knowledgeable manner immediately made a deep impression on me. He was always open to new things so that he would never one day have to accuse himself of being pigeonholed. He enjoyed experimenting with new looks and programs of all kinds and liked to be inspired by the work of other artists without being untrue to himself. For him, the focus was never on technology, but always on the emotional level.
Even though it was sometimes difficult to talk with Stefan about exactly one topic – he had a preference for wanting to do as many things as possible at the same time – his opinion was always valuable and his willingness to help surprising. He was a welcome guest at animago – both as a participant and as a jury member – and throughout all those years we were connected above all by our love of detail.
In particular, however, I will miss his humour, his thirst for knowledge and the long nights in front of the computer when we sent each other images and discussed them, as well as the visits to him and his lovely family, which were far too rare. It is a shame that you have already gone. I will miss you very much.
Günter Hagedorn
Stefan leaves behind his wife and three children. The funeral will take place on Friday, May 21 at 12 noon at Ruhehain, Bönningstedt. (www.ruhehain.de)
