THOMAS KRETSCHMANN is a household name in the film industry. He has appeared in films ranging from Stalingrad (1993) to The Pianist, Wanted, Valkyrie or Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023), amongst many others and counting. We also know about his remarkable past as a competitive swimmer and his escape from the GDR to West Germany. His move to Los Angeles thirty years ago and his subsequent career in Hollywood and Europe have left him living between L.A. and Berlin. With all that, it is no surprise he often plays rather complex characters – confronted with exceptional situations involving power, loyalty and survival. When I ask him about these roles, he simply replies: “I just take what is o,ered, … or not”, and laughs. Although I am initially surprised by such a nonchalant answer, as our conversation unfolds, it dawns on me that this is part of Kretschmann’s modus operandi in life: one that is authentic, refreshingly honest and, somehow, feels liberating.
We don’t meet to talk about his film career, yet his life as an actor naturally influences what he captures in still images. But that is not the story his photographs tell, nor is it something that particularly interests him. It is simply a fact of his life and position, one he acknowledges without relying on his privileged access or on the idea of celebrity.
“I don’t take photographs because I have to, but because I’m curious. I see something and capture a moment that tells a sto- ry. As soon as you start fiddling about or being preoccupied with a subject, the moment’s already gone. No lies, I hate lies. And I think my photos are always genuine, which is why I don’t use Photoshop. But what is most important is the story, and the story depends on the crop. Cropping is everything.” – Thomas Kretschmann
Home, January 13, 2019, Photography by Thomas Kretschmann.
What sounds like confidence is not, he assures me, confidence at all. It is experience: an understanding of a system and an acceptance of its rules and limitations, although he charmingly pushes against them (and has plenty of anecdotes about doing so). It is also a craft he has not learnt in formal institutions but through doing, because life is like that – or at least because that is his way of taking life as it comes. One pivotal moment he recalls was working with Roman Polanski on The Pianist, where Kretschmann describes Polanski’s approval akin to being knighted. Directors and fellow actors alike have shaped his expertise and his understanding of what is possible. They have shaped him not only as an actor but also as a photographer, allowing him and his camera into a process that is rarely seen, almost sacred in the way it remains largely hidden outside the film industry itself. He began photographing in 2011 during the production of Dschungelkind, directed by Roland Suso Richter. Based in Malaysia for several months, he bought an old Canon camera. One of his favourite photographs from that time, nicknamed Sausage Dog aka And Now I’m in Your Shadow, I’m Motionless, I’m Black (p.126), still hangs in his Berlin apartment. “I actually see my photos as a short film. At first, I was unsure because I hadn’t learnt any technical skills. But I do know whether something looks good or not – is it powerful enough and does it tell a story? That is the point. Also, everything has to be sexy. And by sexy, I don’t mean naked or sexual.”
The way he photographs – instinctively, shooting from the hip while filming, travelling or spending time with colleagues between scenes is rooted in the same instinct that guides his acting. Understanding this also draws to the vastly different points of interest in Kretschmann’s photography ranging from film sets, private moments to documentary style situations and social commentary he captures like the protest in Los Angeles, 30.5.2020 (p. 122) or Stars ’n’ Stripes, Divided We Stand (p.127). “I don’t usually do rehearsals. I don’t think about how I’m going to act beforehand either. I know my character and I know the basis of the scene. You can play any scene one way or another; there are always different possibilities. That’s why I only do technical rehearsals, so the camera knows where I’m standing, for example. And then from the first take, I just go with the flow. Lots of actors want to know in advance what I’m going to do. But in real life, I don’t know what’s going to happen next either. And I think not having a plan contributes to the truth.” Out of these moments, his photography takes shape. It becomes less about a subject–object relationship and more about a shared moment within a larger process, a quiet collaboration between him and the person in front of the camera. This is how the ongoing series Cannonball (p. 124/125), featuring Kretschmann’s partner, began. While travelling, they come across a spot that sparks curiosity and, as though shot into the frame, she becomes part of his recurring exploration of the landscape. Another collaboration, titled Muse (p. 129), draws on their shared love of water – in the pool or standing by a cliff, as in Blowhole I, (p. 123).
I don’t take photographs because I have to, but because I’m curious. I see something and capture a moment that tells a story. – Thomas Kretschmann
At the end, it would not be Thomas Kretschmann without a plot twist – one that only makes sense once placed in context. The provocative element is not the naked skin or bare breasts in photographs like the one he did of Brittany (Dog Day Afternoon, p.120), but the moments when he begins to blur the line between reality and fiction. One such image appears to have been taken in the Oval O/ce in Washington, DC. (p. 121) Kretschmann has been a US citizen for many years and, during the last presidential election cycle, was invited to take part in a press event in Germany. Playing his metaphorical trump card, he agreed on one condition: that he could use the meticulously recreated set for a photo shoot. Kretschmann placed two wolves in the room and let them roam freely while photographing the scene. The result is an uncanny and intriguing scenario. Why? Because life presented him with a moment, and he turned it into a short story.
THOMAS KRETSCHMANN’S photo exhibition short stories at SLEEK ART SPACE, 10.09–12.11.2026
