Play that funky Turbine Hall! How artist Tarek Atoui aims to take the Tate on a sonic odyssey

KUALA LUMPUR, 6 OCTOBER 2026 —

Lebanese Sound Visionary Tarek Atoui Transforms Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall into an Immersive Sonic Playground, Challenging Conventions of Art and Audience Engagement

Unlike traditional exhibitions, Atoui’s work, which blends experimental music, scavenged instrumentation, and participatory performance, rejects the notion of a finished product, instead inviting visitors to engage dynamically with sound as both creator and audience.

The project marks a bold evolution in Atoui’s career, which has long defied conventional artistic and musical structures. Known for his immersive, often improvised soundscapes—featuring everything from wind organs made of scavenged materials to PlayStation joystick-based composition tools for Palestinian refugee children—Atoui’s approach is deeply rooted in collaboration, travel, and the belief that sound is not just heard but played.

His latest installation, set to debut in the Turbine Hall, will extend this philosophy into one of the world’s most visited public art spaces, where the usual cacophony of chattering tourists and echoing footsteps will become part of the artistic experience itself.

Atoui’s journey from Lebanon to global artistic recognition began with a rejection of the traditional music industry. After studying experimental music in France under the influence of composers like Iannis Xenakis and György Ligeti, he sought a more fluid, improvisational path—one inspired by Fluxus, the 1960s avant-garde movement that blurred the lines between art, music, and everyday life. Unlike conventional musicians, Atoui has never been confined to studios or concert halls.

Instead, his work has taken shape in refugee camps, schools for the deaf, and urban streets, where he has developed tools like low-frequency sound software for children in Sharjah’s Amal School for the Deaf. “I learned from working with deaf people that there is more than one way of hearing,” he has said, emphasizing how sound transcends auditory perception to become a physical, emotional, and even political experience.

His installations are not static exhibitions but dynamic environments where visitors become co-creators. In Milan, his recent show allowed attendees to linger for minutes or hours, moving freely through a space filled with overlapping sounds—some generated by handcrafted instruments, others by the visitors’ own movements. There are no scripts, no predetermined outcomes.

Atoui’s Turbine Hall project will continue this ethos, turning the hall into what he describes as “a realm in which people can listen, can play.” The artist’s goal is not to escape reality but to make it more vibrant, encouraging audiences to engage with sound in their daily lives. “I want to encourage people to play in their own lives,” he told The Guardian, laughing as he lit another cigarette during an interview.

“Even this one?” he added, gesturing to the conversation itself. “Including this one!”

The installation’s conceptual foundation lies in Atoui’s belief that cities—and indeed the world—can be “played” like instruments. During a recent conversation, he demonstrated this by tapping his fingers against a table, isolating the ambient sounds of London: the busker on the Thames promenade, the distant hum of planes, the rhythmic wash of boats beneath the bridge. Each sound, he argued, is a note in an ever-evolving composition.

His earlier works, such as Waters’ Witness, have captured the sonic histories of coastal cities, from the quiet waters around Athens’ Battle of Salamis to the military exercises and underwater explosions near Singapore’s marina. These projects reveal how sound archives history alongside visual and written records, offering a sensory dimension to collective memory.

Atoui’s approach also challenges the traditional hierarchy of art and audience. His installations often double as sculptures when unplayed, with instruments like wind organs and synthesisers serving as objects of craftsmanship. But when activated—whether through live improvisation or visitor interaction—the space transforms into a collaborative concert hall or educational hub. This duality reflects his broader philosophy: sound is not passive consumption but an active, multisensory experience.

As he notes, hearing cannot be separated from sight, touch, or emotion—how a song feels different when happy, or how architecture shapes the way we perceive noise.

The Turbine Hall project is the latest in Atoui’s career-long shift from controlled musical performances to public, participatory soundscapes. His earlier works, such as those featuring PlayStation joysticks for refugee children or bass speakers tuned to subsonic frequencies for the deaf, demonstrate his commitment to accessibility and innovation.

Yet, the Turbine Hall presents a unique challenge: a space designed for passive observation, where the usual crowd of day-trippers and schoolchildren might overwhelm the delicate balance of his sound-based art. Atoui, however, remains unfazed. “I’m not too worried,” he said, emphasizing that his work thrives on unpredictability. The Turbine Hall’s chaos—its chatter, footsteps, and echoes—will not be obstacles but integral elements of the composition.

Beyond the artistic innovation, Atoui’s project carries broader implications for how public institutions like Tate Modern engage with contemporary art. His work forces a reconsideration of what an exhibition can be: not just a display of objects, but a living, breathing space where art is co-created by its visitors. In a region like Southeast Asia, where urban soundscapes are increasingly shaped by technology, traffic, and cultural exchange, Atoui’s ideas could resonate deeply.

Cities like Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, and Jakarta—each with their own distinct auditory identities—might find inspiration in his approach to sound as a tool for storytelling, memory, and community building.

As Atoui prepares to unveil his Turbine Hall installation, the focus remains on the process rather than the product. There are no fixed performances, no rigid schedules—only an invitation to listen, to play, and to rethink the relationship between art and its audience. For Atoui, the work is not about perfection but about connection: between people, between spaces, and between the sounds that define us.

The Turbine Hall, with its history of hosting monumental yet often static installations, is about to become something far more dynamic—a stage where the city itself is the instrument, and every visitor, a performer.