Forget the concert hall. Hunter Noack's traveling piano series transforms wild places into stages, where the landscape becomes as much a performer as the pianist.
By Hannah Truby
Every summer for the last decade, Hunter Noack has taken his 1912 Steinway—a 9-foot concert grand piano—on an unlikely journey across the West.
From gardens and state parks to working ranches, from Yosemite Valley to Big Sky Resort, Noack’s “In a Landscape: Classical Music in the Wild” concert series takes place not in opera houses or concert halls, but in some of the West’s most iconic and remote landscapes.
Photos by Arthur Hitchock
Now in its 11th season, “In a Landscape” has grown from a nine-date experiment into a touring series with more than 350 concerts across nine states and Canada.
“I feel very lucky,” Noack said when we spoke on a call. “The odds of becoming a touring concert pianist are a lot like becoming a professional athlete, or worse. In terms of classical piano careers, this is pretty great.”
A Sunriver, Oregon, native, the critically acclaimed pianist says the project grew from a desire to take away the barriers that have long confined classical music to traditional venues like Carnegie Hall–which is why it’s not only the locations that make “In a Landscape” unique.
Roughly 200 pairs of wireless headphones are distributed at each performance, encouraging audience members to listen to Noack’s set while exploring their surroundings. The result is a concert experience during which nature is more than a backdrop but part of the music itself.
“The music becomes a soundtrack to whatever it is you’re looking at or feeling,” Noack said. “It’s facilitating people connecting with nature, and we’re all kind of witness to the magic around us.”
Here’s more of our conversation.
Photo by Karen Pride
Hannah Truby: Your concert series is in the midst of its 11th season this summer. Where are you right now in your season—physically and mentally?
Hunter Noack: We have about two weeks of a break right now, so I’m back in Portland. We’re about halfway through the season, and after 11 years, I still have moments in the spring where I wonder how long we’ll keep doing this. Then I get back on the road and remember: this is pretty special. It’s been a really good season so far, and I’m feeling really grateful.
Most touring artists spend their time moving between airports and cities, but we get to travel through beautiful landscapes with a small crew, spend our days outside, and bring music to these incredible places. Touring has become the highlight of my year. I feel very lucky.
HT: You started this project as a way of getting closer to nature, and bringing classical music to areas where it is not typically accessible. What was your relationship like to the outdoors growing up?
HN: I grew up in Bend. My dad hunted and fished, and we camped every summer. We were always kayaking on the Deschutes, mountain biking, and spending time outside.
But there was a backpacking trip in Yosemite right after college that really shifted something for me. I'd been living in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and London, and when I came off that trip I remember thinking, I've never felt so good. I knew I wanted to build a life where being outdoors wasn't something I squeezed in on weekends—it had to become part of my work.
HT: You’ve trained in very traditional classical spaces. What started to feel limiting about that world, and what inspired you to imagine a different way for audiences to experience classical music?
HN: When I was an undergrad at USC, a lot of my friends were in theater, and they were putting on really cool plays in abandoned warehouses and old hotels in downtown Los Angeles. They were doing these scrappy, cheap projects outside of school that were just fun, and I started thinking about classical music in that way.
I love and totally respect the tradition, but I wanted to bring a little bit more fun into my shows. I started inviting my actor friends to be part of my performances, changing the lighting, and having them read excerpts of monologues or poems in between pieces. I wanted to change up the traditional recital a little bit.
Photos by Arthur Hitchcock
At the same time, I knew I wanted a life that included the outdoors. I loved music by a campfire and wanted to figure out a way to bring the piano to the wild places that inspire me.
When I moved back to Oregon after London, I was trying to figure out what to do next. It was actually my mother who first had the idea to put a piano on a truck and travel around. Somehow all these ideas came together when I applied for a small grant through Portland’s Regional Arts & Culture Council to try an experiment: bring a nine-foot Steinway into the middle of nature, give everyone wireless headphones, and turn the landscape into a concert hall.
HT: Was there a specific moment when you realized the environment around a performance could change how people experience music?
HN: In grad school in London, I won an award to create an environment around Verklärte Nacht by Arnold Schoenberg, a piece based on a poem about a woman walking through the forest at night. We brought trees into a black box theater, put leaves on the ground, and created a space where people could experience the context of the music.
That was the moment when I really saw how powerful the environment could be for classical music. When I was back in Oregon and spending more time outside, I thought it would be amazing to bring this music that I love into the spaces that I also want to be. For a lot of composers, so much of the creation of the music is inspired by being outside, so performing it outside kind of reunites it with its genesis.
HT: I'm so interested in this idea of the landscape as a co-performer. Do you ever feel like a place changes how you play in real time or if you find a certain landscape ever, like, leads a performance a little bit or has an impact on the way you play?
HN: Completely. That’s exactly what happens. A concert hall is controlled, but outside, we don’t even have the illusion of control. And that’s part of the magic of it.
The whole project is named after John Cage’s In a Landscape. Cage challenged us to think differently about what music is. I think every sound belongs. When something happens in the landscape—like it starts raining, a flock of geese flies over, or a helicopter passes overhead—it feels like the music is choreographed to the dance of the world around us. I’m no longer the performer; I’m more of a facilitator or a guide. The music is facilitating people connecting with nature.
That’s why the show is so different for everybody. They’re having an experience in nature, and we’re all kind of witnesses to the magic around us.
HT: Movement is fundamental to the In a Landscape experience. Unlike a traditional concert, you encourage audiences to wander during performances. What changes when the audience is not seated but moving through terrain?
HN: In a normal concert, I’m the performer and everybody’s focused on me. When we’re outside, I encourage people to wander and use their other senses so the music becomes more of a soundtrack to their experience rather than the focal point.
I think that’s part of what makes the show appealing, especially to people who don’t have an existing relationship with classical music. Classical music comes with a lot of expectations: how to dress, when to clap, how to sit, what you’re supposed to know. Outside, those expectations disappear.
Photo by Arthur Hitchcock
When people are comfortable and there’s space to think and feel and breathe, they’re free to be creative or let emotions come up. That’s why the show is so different for everybody. We’re all kind of witnesses to the magic around us. When something happens in the landscape, it feels like the music is choreographed to the dance of the world around us.
HT: Many of your concerts happen in parks and protected landscapes at a time when public lands are under increasing pressure. I know you’ve been inspired by the work of John Muir—how does that shape the way you think about this project and the places where you perform?
HN: Very much so. Early on I was inspired by the Works Progress Administration during the 1930s, when concerts and plays were staged in public parks. I loved the idea of bringing art out of spaces that can feel exclusive and into what I think are our most democratic places: public lands.
But what's become even more important is the conversations that happen afterward.
Whether we're in a national park or on a working ranch, the goal is to bring together people who care about that landscape from different perspectives. Once you've shared an experience in a place, it's easier to start talking about stewardship, access, and the future of that land.
HT: Of all the places this series has taken you, do you have a favorite place you’ve performed?
HN: When I started, I imagined we’d constantly be chasing new places. Instead, I’ve learned the value of returning. Returning to places—especially places that aren’t famous—is often the most rewarding. It’s because of the relationships we’ve built.
The Alvord Desert [in southeast Oregon] is the place I reference most often when people ask me this question. It has its own kind of cult following, but what makes it special is the connection we’ve built there over time. This year, neighboring ranchers came to the performance for the first time. Winning trust takes time, and that’s why I love going back. It’s also spectacularly beautiful and difficult to get to.
Photo by Arthur Hitchcock
