Manchester International Festival – Germaine Kruip: A Possibility, at RNCM

July 18, 2025

Manchester International Festival – Germaine Kruip: A Possibility, at RNCM

There was a point where I was attending film preview screenings on the regular.

On one occasion, Sony brought out the big guns and took our phones off us until after the screening had finished, lest we use them for nefarious reasons.

Last night wasn’t quite that extreme, but we were asked to put our devices – smartwatch, phone – in a darling little black velvet bag which we were allowed to keep about our persons, but in order to banish all risk of glare during the performance.

When the lights went down, ironically, the why became all too clear…

A new artwork by (Dutch artist) Germaine Kruip. Part sculptural installation, part soundscape, part immersive experience, A Possibility features music by Emily Howard and Hahn Rowe performed by percussionists using Kruip’s specially made brass sculptures. The piece invites audiences to transcend the immediate and explore a world of infinite possibilities.

Part of this year’s Manchester International Festival – Dream Differently, A Possibility is being performed at the Royal Northern College of Music (RNCM).

But what did it all mean? As is the running thread through most art (although some meanings are bestowed more forcefully upon us than some), it was for our interpretation.

I knew in the moment that this was going to be something to ponder on some time after we’d left the auditorium.

That moment was specifically (and actually I don’t know exactly how many minutes in we were, given any time-telling devices were, and rightly so, living their best lives in the bowels of my tote bag) during act 1. Plunged into darkness for the most part, we had for some time been almost hypnotised by a series of almost living,breathing shadows and shapes, pulsating, fading in and out, some monolithic, some seemingly suspended and static; a foreign object whose very presence delivered a sense of unease and foreboding.

It’s a rare moment to be devoid of light pollution and unsurprisingly unsettling, given the vulnerability it instils within us. I turned to look at my plus 1 in life to take in his reaction and for reassurance. But of course I couldn’t see a flipping thing. For all I know, he’d taken an early bath and I was now sat next to a complete stranger. Or, perhaps, nobody. Nobody next to me, on my row, in the venue – anything felt possible. And so there we were. Whilst my interpretation of the performance would surely come later, I was already having an innate reaction, partly fuelled by the artist tinkering with my senses, partly fuelled by an overactive imagination and a flair for the dramatic.

This first act distilling the essence of Kruip’s 2014 performance – A Possibility of an Abstraction (or as I call it, ‘Laura (that’s me, by the way) leans into her Paranoia’ – has ‘light as its principle actor’. I love that description. I love this description too – ‘the stage becomes a blank canvas of perception’.

So for however long that first act is (kind of like the concept of the Las Vegas casinos in reverse where people are plunged into a world of bright lights, loud noises with time becoming less of a known quantity or construct), it felt meditative. Like a sound bath. Almost transcendental. My thoughts ebbed and flowed, sometimes taking me off to surreal ponderings, sometimes throwing me back into the present, sometimes taking me back to the past as bizarre and random memories popped up like old friends. I don’t know. But I write about how art and experiences make me feel. And 15 hours on – this is where I’m currently at.

Act 2 and we were thrown a little light, taking us from the shade into a more audio sensory experience. Percussionists Youjin Lee, Akane Tominaga, Victor Lodeon and Gil HyoungKwon (with strings from the RNCM Heartwood Quartet), used brass tubular sculptures which gracefully entered the set from above as though descending from heaven (is it possible I’m stlil in that transcendental state?) the lighting of which matched the beauty of their tone when struck.

If act 1 was a kind of amuse bouche to send you out of yourself, your day, your commute… and into a state of ‘ready to receive’, a cleansing of the palate, so to speak, act 2 was the carefully constructed main course, with flavours crafted to take you further into your culinary journey, tastebuds primed, senses ready for their next stage of awakening.

Gosh. I really might still be on that other plain. It may or may not be a coincidence that my last analogy comes only 11 hours after my bedtime podcast of choice being a That’s Entertainment Masterchef special.

Let’s step away.

The music of act 2 built slowly, purposefully, gracefully and pointedly into a show-ending crescendo, as the sounds became layered, musicians introduced, each contributing to the rhythmic sometimes trepidatious, sometimes soothing, but all the time feeding into those conflicting feelings that act 1 too promoted – feelings of vulnerability and anxiety, vs feelings of calm.

As I continue to ponder my own interpretation of A Possibility, moving past how it made me feel in its execution, I’ll leave you with a tangible sign-off in that you too can witness the result of some talented artists and musicians as part of this year’s Manchester International Festival, by visiting A Possibility | Germaine Kruip | Manchester International Festival 2025 – Factory International. Further performances are taking place at RNCM until 20 July.

For further information on this year’s Manchester International Festival – Dream Differently, visit Manchester International Festival – Factory International