While viewing the latest installation in the Turbine Hall I overheard someone ask “What is the purpose of this?”. I thought that was both an apt and fascinating question to ask about art, and while it’s far too soon to know if Tarek Atoui’s sonic landscape (there is no official title) will go down as an all-time classic or get relegated to the sin bin one thing is certain: it’s not just drawing in the crowds, it’s keeping them lingering. I spent forty five minutes during my first visit and at least a dozen other people that were there when I arrived were still there when I left. Why? That’s simple: It does stuff.
Subtly, and then not so subtly, and then subtly once again what appears to be a random array of bamboo pipes, ceiling vents, soothing lights and electrical wiring fills the back end of the Turbine Hall not just with a visual cacophony but an audible one, too. To call it music or rhythm would be a misnomer, but it’s also not “noise” despite the frequent appearance of static, the low groan of a horn, the boom of a giant bass drum or the wisps of wind. Close your eyes and you could easily convince yourself that you’re standing in a lush forest nestled snugly between a babbling brook and an elevated motorway.
From the ground looking up — and you will most certainly find that you are spending a lot of your time craning your neck upwards — hundreds of thin wires look like rain pouring down onto the “instruments” which are, in fact, bamboo, stone, skin, brass, sunflowers, sugar, wind and textiles. The Exhibition Guide explains those things are not always what their name suggests.
Some are kinetic, triggered to move when an unseen conductor needs them to make a sound. The giant crazy contraption above your head looks like it’s come straight out of the pages of a Heath Robinson / Rube Goldberg drawing but the primary purpose isn’t visual amusement, it’s to provide aural intrigue. Physical movements are intentionally minimal, so much so that the overall effect is more gentle ripple than crashing wave and trying to figure out what anything does will prove frustrating for those that need constant stimulation. My advice: just close your eyes and listen.
This installation is alive. A constantly changing composition. Never repeating, it’s unlikely to provide you something you can hum along to yet like a Siren’s song it lures everyone in. Visitors are engaging with this work in a way I haven’t seen happen for far too long in the Turbine Hall, which brings me to one minor issue: it can be physically uncomfortable to experience.
This is an artwork that rewards extended engagement. I appreciate that filling the space with tables and chairs would have transformed the experience into a glorified cafe and reduced the sounds to muzak, so thankfully they haven’t done that. Alas, those who wish to stay awhile are given two unenviable options: stand, or take their chances sitting/lying on the large and very low slung slabs of granite that aren’t much different than those beds of nails they have at amusement parks: surprisingly less painful than you’d expect, but not the kind of thing you’d want to spend any amount of time on. Apparently some vibrate with sound, but not enough to soothe the lower back pain caused by sitting on their uneven surfaces.
My other gripe is that you can barely see or hear it from the main entrance. I appreciate that traffic flow and way-finding take precedence in a venue that welcomes over 10,000 people a day, but leaving two-thirds of the vast space empty feels like a missed opportunity. Those ‘half’ sandwiches Pret sells probably make a tidy profit but anyone who’s ever bought one for lunch surely remembers how hungry they felt a few hours later.
But listen (pun intended), those are minor quibbles. In the space he’s been allocated Tarek Atoui has more than delivered against the promise of the Turbine Hall. It’s big, it’s clever, and it’s keeping people engaged long after they’ve figured out the answer to their question about purpose. Exactly what good art is supposed to do.
Plan your visit
‘Hyundai Commission: Tarek Atoui’ runs until 11 April 2027.
FREE
Visit tate.org.uk and follow @tate on Instagram for more info about the venue.
Visit tarekatoui.com and follow @studiotarekatoui on Instagram for more info about the artist.
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