In six parts, August Zirner speaks on HYPERMADE about language, responsibility, and the subtle difference between expression and effect.
HYPERMADE: You live in the Chiemgau region—a place you once described as having a quiet authority. What role does retreat play in your life—is it a source of strength, a sanctuary, or at times a form of solitude?
AUGUST ZIRNER: Retreat is a sanctuary for me, and solitude is healing—even if it’s exhausting.
HYPERMADE: You once said that everyone is afraid of loneliness—yet it can be something beautiful if you can draw strength from it. Is that a state you seek—or only one you can endure when it’s filled from within?
AUGUST ZIRNER: Strangely enough, I’m no longer afraid of loneliness. Even in a packed auditorium, I sometimes feel alone. But I don’t see that as a problem. I believe we’re all lonely—whether we know it or not. And the only thing that matters is learning to make peace with that loneliness.
HYPERMADE: As an actor, you’re in the spotlight—but often alone with a role, a text, a character. How do you experience that solitude in your profession—as contradiction, sanctuary, or necessary distance?
AUGUST ZIRNER: That’s just the way it is.
HYPERMADE: Music has always been an inner space for you—a soundscape that belonged entirely to you. Have you found something comparable in acting—a fulfillment, a source of strength, perhaps something that goes beyond music?
AUGUST ZIRNER: “To make words sing is a beautiful thing, because in a Song words last so long.”
A beautiful little poem by Langston Hughes. It reflects my relationship to both language and music quite well.
Both require time—time to allow meaning to resonate. But I don’t entirely understand your question. I’m not sure what inner space or soundscape you really mean. Being on stage and making music, or being on stage and playing a role—both are equally meaningful to me. It’s always about building a connection with the audience.
HYPERMADE: Is there a character that has stayed with you until today—because it revealed something to you that you didn’t know before?
AUGUST ZIRNER: There are two roles I’d really love to play again: King Philip of Spain and Nathan the Wise. I still owe something to both of them.
HYPERMADE: You once said that some roles touch on themes that also arise in your life at the same time. How do you explain this strange simultaneity—coincidence or reflection?
AUGUST ZIRNER: Both. I think everyone knows the phenomenon of suddenly encountering something everywhere once they start thinking about it. But as an actor, I sometimes really do feel that the roles I play seem smarter than I am. I begin to learn from them. It’s a bit paradoxical. Maybe it’s just that certain roles awaken themes that are already slumbering inside you.
HYPERMADE: Looking back on your career—have you been able to play all the characters you dreamed of? Or is there a figure, a voice, a stance that you’ve held back for yourself?
AUGUST ZIRNER: I just hope that someday I will finally manage to be myself.
HYPERMADE: Mr. Zirner, thank you for your time, your thoughts, and the unique way you weave language and music into a narrative whole—quietly, precisely, and with deep humanity.
Closing Words
What remains after a conversation like this?
Perhaps no conclusion, no lesson—but a quieter understanding.
August Zirner doesn’t speak in poses—but in movements.
He doesn’t answer to convince—but to open.
For him, language is not a tool—but an organ.
An instrument that only sounds when it comes from within.
And that’s what this conversation was:
A breath in six acts—between art and responsibility, origin and present, sound and silence, music and language, role and person.
It is the conversation of a man who doesn’t perform himself—
but simply speaks.
August Zirner is a German-Austrian actor and musician. Born in Urbana, Illinois, and trained in the United States, he moved to Vienna in the 1970s, where he studied at the Max Reinhardt Seminar from 1973 to 1976. Since the 1980s, he has lived and worked in Germany, where he has built a theatre and film career of rare depth. His stage presence is subtle but compelling, shaped by linguistic precision and emotional intelligence. In addition to his work as an actor, he creates literary-musical projects that weave together text and sound. His worldview is that of a sensitive observer—culturally rooted in Europe, yet open to the experiences of his American origins.
