Martin Lorenz — February 24, 1932-June 2, 2025

THE life of Martin Lorenz was marked by profound challenges from a young age.

Having been born in Vienna, Austria in 1932, Martin and his brother Fred personally witnessed Hitler at a rally soon after the invasion of Austria, and so keen were they to be part of the “terribly cool” Hitler Youth, they fashioned themselves “lookalike” armbands, only to (fortunately) be denied entry due to their partial Jewish heritage.

Martin’s family went on to tragically suffer immense hardship at the hands of the National Socialists, with family members murdered in concentration camps.

However, Martin, his brother Fred and their mother remarkably escaped to England on a small propeller plane, landing at Croydon airport – a feat made possible through the sponsorship of family, and an act which almost certainly spared them the tragedy that would befall Martin’s father and other family members. Martin’s mother was interned on the Isle of Man, which was usual for citizens of an “enemy state”, while Martin and his brother Fred found a home in a Malvern orphanage throughout the war until reunited with their mother. It was here, learning English during the war, that Martin first truly embraced his British identity, forging the resilient spirit he exemplified throughout his life.

A man of wit and diverse passions, Martin was a popular and cherished character, renowned for his quick but always hilarious wit. He was genuinely one of the loveliest people one could ever meet.

And as Martin’s life unfolded it was most certainly never ordinary or dull. During his national service, Martin learned to speak and write Russian, a skill that later allowed him to work in industry in Russia during an incredibly tense period in Anglo-Russian relations culminating in him being expelled from Russia, accused of being a spy!

Martin’s diverse professional career saw him working in industry and as a teacher. However, he found his true calling as a sculptor, taking commissions from individuals and esteemed institutions alike. His unique pieces can still be found in the British Museum and the Sherlock Holmes Museum, a lasting testament to his incredible talent.

Having met and married Sue in the late Sixties, the couple spent time together in Moscow before returning to England and purchasing Kiln House in Crazies Hill, a house that became a home full of love not only for Martin, Sue, Tom and Anna but also many others who they chose to share it with — many of whom attended his memorial service. It was a place where Sue cooked the most wonderful food, and Martin was often found beavering away at some wonderful artistic endeavour.

Their home was truly full to the brim with love, with more than enough to share around. Tom and Anna recall the family’s chickens, the home-grown fruit and veg, how wood was chopped for the stove and their parents’ remarkable ability to make a lot out of very little. Working mainly from home in his shed meant Martin was always there for Tom and Anna growing up, happy to partake in a kick-around, joining in family meals and bedtime stories.

There are also memories of all the places he took them to visit including the many churches, although his enthusiasm for pointing out flying buttresses was not always appreciated by them as teenagers! Having had to make his own way in the world Martin appreciated the value of education and knowledge, he understood what it was to have been persecuted and to have to reinvent yourself.

This was something Martin succeeded in doing again after Sue’s death. Taking forward many of Sue’s attributes Martin got creative in the kitchen, becoming an accomplished host choosing to step up to life.

Martin’s ability to overcomplicate everything he did was the cause of frustration and hilarity in equal measure. “Why make it simple when you can make it complicated?” he would quip. There were no sides to Martin, he was consistent and authentic which extended to his ability to shock you! And even when he was being a total nightmare it was still so much fun to be in his company. Every day was a good day with Martin.

The arrival of the grandchildren Will, Oli and Sophie was a source of great joy, with Bappy as he was affectionately known wasting no time in involving himself in the children’s play.

Will recalled that “Bappy never stopped, he was always doing something, from sculpting to cooking, socialising, and of course having constant tech issues. I always looked forward to seeing him, every time I visited he had some strange odd jobs to do. I loved nothing more than finding clever solutions, working in his shed, trying different ideas but ultimately bodging the hell out of it with him. Martin has inspired me to try my best and will be sincerely missed.”

Sophie wrote “Bappy was an inspiration to me, he never stopped working, was very outgoing and full of energy. he tried hard to make other people’s lives easier. He was great company and a comforting presence. Always there for a chat, a really good listener. Encouraged me to do what I enjoyed. Very generous. Kind-hearted. I always looked forward to visiting him, he brightened my mood and never failed to make people laugh and smile. he also made a bloody good fish pie!”

In latter years, Martin enjoyed life with his loving partner Sylvia by his side, the pair supporting and caring for each other as they enjoyed theatre and cinema trips, meals out and trips away, generally having a wonderful time together and continuing to make the most of life.

Martin’s dedication to community was evident through his many passions. A keen and active member of the Oxford Sculptors Group, he was instrumental in establishing the well-regarded Greys Court Sculpture in the Garden exhibition, which in his honour will be showing some of Martin’s pieces, which he would have loved for you to go and see. His commitment also shone at the Wargrave Theatre Workshop, where he was active on stage, backstage and in management, as well as being an enthusiastic member of various poetry-reading and wood-carving clubs.

Martin made a conscious choice that every day would be a good day, and he made each day count, and I know there is much comfort taken from the fact that right until the end of his life Martin was still busy living. Martin’s diary for the week following his death was filled with commitments to piano lessons, Pilates, a cinema trip, dinner plans and wood-carving and poetry clubs.

There will be so much that will be missed about Martin but how fortunate we were to have been able to share in his life.