- Venue
- Embrace Arts, RA Centre
- Location
Rear View Mirror wasn’t just performative; it was interactive. As a singular participant, I stood, on a balcony outside Embrace Arts, separate from the rest of the exhibition. There was a tape machine and a pair of headphones. I am asked to rewind the tape; the initiation of the interaction is my responsibility. I began taking notes, unaware that the tape had finished rewinding. When I started to listen, Wohead spoke to me from the past, telling me this recording was made where I stood. Already, there was an overlap of occurrence, which was heightened when Wohead involved himself in the present – I saw him standing across the road. He wanted to create an element of surprise; there had been no indication of his presence beforehand, and I realised that he didn’t simply rely on his audience as an observer, but transformed them into a crucial component of the actualisation of the piece. This made each performance individual – Wohead intended to produce a series of defined moments; recall memory by creating memory. Authenticity and genuine emotion became the foundation of the work.
A friend I visited Hatch: Twelve with expressed how she felt the isolation of the volunteer was key to their reaction to the situation Wohead creates, because it built a sense of anticipation without the artist actually divulging any information about the piece. The lack of knowledge the participants had was juxta posed with the quick succession in which they were told a story and asked to contribute to the performance.
The environment was suitable in a contradictory way; as performers we both filled the open space. Wohead’s voice in my ears bridged the physical gap, and while our expansive surroundings were mostly empty, they touched on my physical senses. It was surreal, and I felt vulnerable, because I was on display, and alone.
After listening to Wohead describe his memory of a car crash, I was instructed to place both hands on the railing – an anchor to the present – and not only recall a memory, but distinguish which shoes I had been wearing in it. I was flummoxed, which I imagine is the reaction Wohead had predicted from most participants, and he increased my bewilderment by towing me back to the present, with demands that I bellow the information across the street to him. My brain dredged up a shoe from the past, though my choice wasn’t completely honest; the memory I had chosen was 15 years ago. I felt guilty in not remembering, but I think Wohead wanted to disconcert the participant; the stunned reaction, the diligence in thinking quickly, was more important than a truthful answer.
Wohead chose to remove the participant from their comfort zone, physically, and thus, emotionally, in order to gain the most intensified response. He wanted to ensure the person he performed with experienced a memory as vivid as the one he depicted. Wohead considered the uncontrollable factors to be crucial when selecting the location; weather and continuation of life outside of the performance had a different effect on each experience. Mine was tinted with embarrassment, because I’m not used to performing in public, and I was torn between ignoring my surroundings and concentrating on what the Wohead from the past was saying.
As instructed, we began to communicate using semaphore. Instead of being the only method available of communication over the distance, I think Wohead wanted to introduce overstated physical action into the performance. The insecurity I felt injected some humour into the proceedings, and despite the sudden attraction of several onlooker’s attention, I think the connection between Wohead and myself increased in concentration; it became more intimate, because we were the only ones who knew what we were doing. I believe Wohead wanted to create this intimacy to echo the personal subject of memory.
In the audio recording, Wohead said “the present is a fine line – a puff of air could destroy it.”
He toyed with the line between familiarity and freshness, by disconnecting physical surroundings with what the mind sees. I think he wanted to make the participant question their acquaintance with their own memories; mine certainly wasn’t something I had thought of in many years, and I had never given any consideration to the shoes I wore. Wohead conducted the experiment, not just in his own interest, but to enable his audience to engage themselves in something more involving than non-interactive artwork. I don’t think the piece finish when the performance itself does; each participant will have formed their own memory of the event, and will have recollected something that they wouldn’t have in other circumstances.
For me, the piece didn’t have a very poignant aesthetic. The visual was in my head, evoked by the memory Wohead was describing in my ear and his instruction to reanimate one of my own. However, the performance came together in a series for him – he was there all day, seeing the people change with the position of the sun. The retro technology was a felicitous touch, alluding nicely to the notion of the past, a visual hint as well as the apparatusfor the piece.
The format was appropriate; Wohead created a memory within itself throughout the duration, for both participants. Every aspect was cognitive. He chose to perform in the public domain because it refers to the way stranger’s lives are so often woven together. Though most outsiders passed by, ignorant, the potential multitude of onlookers meant the participant had to overcome the distractions and possible timorousness.
Wohead says the work is about ‘grabbing on to a slippery present’ (Greg Wohead, 2012). Much like memory, the performance was a slice that only certain people could see, cutting through the present. It was so overt that it was covert, because Wohead wanted to emphasise the relationship between artist and participant, as well as artwork and participant, that is so often overlooked in contemporary art.
