After stepping out of the little black Fiat where Greg Wohead’s one-on-one performance The Backseat of My Car (and other safe places) occurred last Friday night, I found myself struck by a series of instructions Wohead gives the participatory audience member: You look out the window You touch my arm You lean in closer A little closer A little closer You look away You ask me to take you home You open the door and walk away None of these actions were asked for nor took place back-to-back. Yet strung along together as they were in my mind post show, the phrases seemed to form the refrain to an adolescent anthem we have all rocked out to at some point in time. The brief performance began when an usher walked me out of Georgia Tech’s Ferst Center for the Arts and out to Wohead’s car, where he was expecting me with a kind, nervous smile. Once I settled into the front seat, he handed me a wig and explained the premise. I would be “Cathy” who has just finished playing the flute at band practice and he would be himself. There would be described actions that were just part of the story and […]
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