Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall has been reimagined by Lebanese artist Tarek Atoui into a vast, immersive soundscape. On the gallery floor, visitors encounter wide water basins and massive, rough-hewn rocks reminiscent of desert or moorland landscapes, which serve as seating or viewing platforms. Above these elements, a collection of suspended musical instruments—including oversized, elongated brass trumpets and glowing drums—dangle from the power station’s original roof girders, creating the appearance of rain made of sound-producing objects.
The installation functions as an elaborate, interconnected machine that produces an evolving auditory experience. The space resonates with deep, earth-shaking bass notes emanating from hanging trumpets and translucent cones that rise from the floor like ethereal minarets. These mechanical sounds are punctuated by booming drumbeats and a woman’s plangent, nostalgic vocal passages. While the installation features physical objects, Atoui’s true focus is the invisible art of sound, which guides visitors through the gallery’s forest of physical forms.
Atoui’s work invites comparisons to historical inventors of complex mechanical oddities. In the past, such an intricate contraption might have been described as “Heath Robinsonish,” referencing the early 20th-century British cartoonist known for fantastical inventions. However, a more fitting parallel is Leonardo da Vinci, who famously conceptualized improbable musical machines like water-powered organs. Like Leonardo, Atoui explores the relationship between visible structures and elusive harmony, creating a space that feels both funny and deeply moving.
The soundscape evokes a sense of mourning and ancient urban mystery, conjuring atmospheres akin to the streets of Lahore, Marrakesh, or Istanbul. The music builds toward an apocalyptic crescendo that feels both mystical and liberating. Atoui’s approach draws parallels to the trancelike states induced by Sufi drummers and dervishes, using rhythmic motion and vibration to soothe and captivate the audience. By the end of the experience, the material world appears to dissolve; as the sound intensifies, the solid elements—the stones, pipes, and cones—begin to feel as unreal as a reflection in a courtyard pool.
This ambitious project, which also incorporates live performances, marks a significant moment for the Turbine Hall. Atoui, functioning as a modern magus, has crafted a space that is as much about the silence between notes as it is about the roar of the machinery. Visitors are encouraged to lose themselves in this sonic labyrinth, where the architecture of the former power station is transformed into an unpredictable, dreamlike city of sound that lingers in the memory long after the music fades.
