I miss Jan. As a friend, as someone to think things through with, and in everything still to come.

About Jan and What We Started Together

Jan Hausmann died in July. My friend and co-founder of General Film Labs. We developed a film scanner together, but when I think about him today, it’s about much more than that project.

Only now do I realize how much it means to have someone you can talk to about anything. Someone who wants to understand what’s on your mind. Who helps, but also questions things and gives you his honest opinion.

I had found all of that in Jan. And I miss it deeply.

First Fighting Monsters, Then Building a Scanner

We met about seven years ago in World of Warcraft. Back then, Jan, his wife Nessi, and I spent almost every evening fighting monsters together. That’s how we knew each other, long before General Film Labs existed.

Outside the game, we also shared an enthusiasm for technology. Understanding things, solving problems, learning something new, and building things ourselves. Eventually, that led to the idea of developing a film scanner together.

I came from photography and took care of the concept, design, and mechanical engineering. Jan was a state-certified technician in automation technology and handled the electronics and software.

That describes how we divided the work. But it only partly explains what made working together special.

The Enthusiasm Was There from the Start

Jan was excited about the project practically from the first hour we spoke about it. He got involved straight away, contributed his thoughts, and wanted to move things forward. Just like I did.

It was easy to get him excited about something. At the same time, he researched things on his own, brought in his own ideas, and developed things further. He was available and put the work in. I didn’t have to keep pushing him. He genuinely enjoyed it.

Even small details could absorb and excite him. Not knowing something yet was a reason to look into it. Learning something new and then figuring out how to use that knowledge. We both enjoyed doing that.

Since his death, I’ve come to appreciate even more how special that shared motivation was. I’ve spoken to several people about potentially working together. There’s often a lot of enthusiasm at first. Once it becomes clear how much work is actually involved, the replies sometimes get shorter, and some people pull back.

With Jan, that enthusiasm stayed. Even when things became difficult or fiddly.

A Numbered Toilet Roll and a Struggling Motor

There isn’t one defining memory of Jan. There are lots of individual fragments that come together to form a whole. The evenings spent gaming, our conversations, the first prototypes.

I remember the videos of his early experiments particularly well. I think they were built from Fischertechnik or something similar. It almost looked like a numbered toilet roll going around in circles. He was using it to simulate the film.

There was an old motor, too, already making some pretty strained noises under the load. But it worked.

That was really something. We had talked about an idea, thought about how it might work, and suddenly there it was in a video. It actually moves. The idea works.

I remember the excitement in his voice when he had figured something out or finally solved a problem. We could both get incredibly excited about that.

Of Course, We Talked About Other Things Too

Jan told me a lot about his family. About their holiday in Egypt and how much he loved riding his motorcycle.

Riding through the countryside with a friend, being on the bike, and having that feeling of freedom. It meant so much to him. When he talked about it, you could hear how much joy it brought him. I found it fascinating how excited he was about it.

He had plenty of interests beyond motorcycling and our electronics tinkering. Although the scanner did take up quite a lot of time. There was always something to think through, try out, or discuss. In between, we told each other about our lives.

I had the impression that his family really supported him in our project. That they shared his enthusiasm and gave him extra energy.

His wide network also impressed me. Above all, how naturally the people in it helped each other. My experience in my own circles has sometimes been different. You might get help, but feel as though you’re bothering someone.

Through Jan, I saw people who enjoyed helping. Who wanted to get something working together. I really loved that attitude.

We Didn’t Always Agree

Towards the end in particular, Jan and I often disagreed about the project. Sometimes we needed a day to step back. Or two or three.

With a little distance, we would recognize again how much we valued each other. And that neither of us wanted to lose that. In the end, we found our way back to each other.

A project like this is complex. A high is followed by another low, and eventually things start looking up again. Something finally works, only for a new problem to appear somewhere else. You get excited, get stuck, keep trying.

Going through that together means an incredible amount. Having someone who understands why a tiny detail has you so excited. But also why, on another day, you’re sitting in front of the whole thing feeling frustrated.

The weight is simply easier to carry between two people than alone.

I Wish I Could Tell Jan About This

I’ve decided to carry on with General Film Labs. To do that, I had to regroup and start learning about electronics and software myself. Learn a lot, rebuild some things. That takes time.

Technology has moved forward so much in the last three or four months alone. Again and again, I’ll be working on something and think: I wish I could tell Jan about this. Hear his opinion. Or I’ll know exactly how much he would have enjoyed working with it.

How much these new possibilities would have offered him and the way he worked. The ideas he would have come up with and how much further we could have taken things together. I think about that often.

I want to finish our scanner. Jan helped build this project, and his name will remain part of it.

But in everyday life, I also miss the conversations in between. Being able to tell him something, hear his excitement, or get an honest answer when he saw things completely differently.

All those little things I took for granted while he was here.