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I’m Lorenz Weber. I’m a composer, pianist, writer — and a Shepherd.
A few years ago, I began to invent my own language on the piano —a language I had long been missing, that allows for impulses, holds space and lets life breathe.
This language is shaped by the uncertainty of the next moment, and by the imperfection that runs through all living things.There is nothing in the flow that stays fixed —and yet everything remains connected. Because there is no firm memory of the past, and no clear anticipation of the future.
I explore the impulses that rise from “nothing” — from silence, from routine, from repetition — in music, text, video, movement, and photography. As something organic. As a rhythm tied to the body, the world, and the work of living.
For years I’ve spent my summers in the mountains or in the lowlands, herding animals, walking the land, learning from the pace of it all. I would say, It keeps me honest and grounded.
Art often feels far away — like a luxury, like something separate.
But I believe it belongs in the fields, the forests, the barns.
It’s not apart from life.
It is life — seen through a finer lens.
A few years ago, I began to invent my own language on the piano —a language I had long been missing, that allows for impulses, holds space and lets life breathe.
This language is shaped by the uncertainty of the next moment, and by the imperfection that runs through all living things.There is nothing in the flow that stays fixed —and yet everything remains connected. Because there is no firm memory of the past, and no clear anticipation of the future.
I explore the impulses that rise from “nothing” — from silence, from routine, from repetition — in music, text, video, movement, and photography. As something organic. As a rhythm tied to the body, the world, and the work of living.
For years I’ve spent my summers in the mountains or in the lowlands, herding animals, walking the land, learning from the pace of it all. I would say, It keeps me honest and grounded.
Art often feels far away — like a luxury, like something separate.
But I believe it belongs in the fields, the forests, the barns.
It’s not apart from life.
It is life — seen through a finer lens.
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