The Proximity festival is a smorgasbord of performances “tailor-made for an audience of one” at the Blue Room.

With such delicacies as beard fondling and strip poker on offer, those used to playing it cool hiding in a crowd and avoiding participation may be challenged.

The 12 works about reaction and interaction, reflection and introspection are split into three programs. I saw program C and B on separate Sunday afternoons.

My first taste of Proximity was sickly sweet. Sweet-Life, by curator of the mini-festival James Berlyn, is playful and dark.

Playing for lollies representing virtues and vices, the participant interrogates the notion of “the Sweet-Life” through carnival games and mind-games.

This work was enjoyable but intimidating, particularly when the sharp and cheeky artist monitored my pulse and pupils as I read mantras.

In the men’s bathroom, I found a Glory Hole just the right size for Jackson Eaton’s magnificent beard.

If you want to see or touch this symbol of masculinity, you will have to play along and veer on the perverse.

The local master of awkward challenges traditional notions of intimacy and identity as he asks “how long has it been since you had beard? Is it the best you’ve ever had?”

Sarah Nelson took me for a ride through the busy cultural centre for some Mobile Moments and quite genuine conversation, despite some scripted questions and the intimidation of a camera.

Then Renae Coles of The Union took me through a complaint form for “small injustices” with an essential listening section.

While seeing professional Coles break out into angry song was a thrilling, it would be interesting to see the mentioned punk band present.

Program B began with Flush, a game of strip poker in the Blue Room bar. The lovely Janet Carter gets you comfortable enough to play to or push your limits and makes the game non-threatening.

Ush and Them is a hilarious little endgame with Nikki Jones an adorable “career usher”.

You end up exploring much of the Blue Room with Jones in the hunt for your “next venue,” learning a little about the theatre and ushering as a vocation.

There are many layers of comedy, from the concept right down to the awkward interaction, little comments and – toilet humour.

I was grinning silly the whole time, pretty much incapacitated from playing the part of the grumpy patron which likely would have lead to further hilarious frazzle from Jones.

I had a lie down while Russya Connor hung from the ceiling and crept around me, sharing a dark bedtime story for How Close Do You Want Me, and I lit Fragmentation 1.2 with a torch.

This mesmerizing and bizarre dance work began with the shocking discovery of Hellen Russo inside a chest with one lifeless arm outstretched.

Afterwards I joined Program A for a meal prepared during Slowfood Sunday, a session in the kitchen with co-curator Sarah Rowbottam.

She told me about some of the growers and producers of the ingredients, who she had tracked down and met with as part of the work.

The dinner was also a good way to talk to some of the artists and hear about the other patrons’ experiences in Program A – private tap dances, three minute showers and sweat tests.

One of my fellow patrons’ faces when they recognized a particular beard was priceless.

Proximity is a festival for the curious and brave who want to be more than a witness to a performance.