Zoe Stanton-Savitz ‘23

“May I touch your arm?” one student asks while staring intently into the eyes of another in the black box theatre in the basement of the Performing Arts Center. The other responds, giving their consent.

This is just one of many exercises taught in SLC’s newest theatre class Introduction to Intimacy in Performance. The class, taught by professional intimacy coordinator Judi Lewis Ockler, teaches actors, directors and stage managers about respect, advocacy and safety while performing or directing scenes of sexual and emotional intimacy.

“The idea of it is to take the structures of what intimacy in performance looks like and use the tools to help better prepare an actor to perform scenes of intimacy,” Ockler says.

While Ockler’s Introduction to Intimacy in Performance year-long course is a new addition to Sarah Lawrence’s theatre department, Ockler has administered annual two-hour-long intimacy workshops required for all theatre thirds since 2018 and continues to do so. The new class, however, is an expansion of the workshops; it broadens students’ skills and expounds on intimacy practices and applications.

“Introduction to Intimacy is actually one of the classes I built my schedule around,” Michèle Carter-Cram ‘23 says. “I think it’s a really great way to follow the rising patterns of the industry which is focusing increasingly on communication and boundaries and actors’ comfort but also on producing equitable art on every level.”

CONSENT IN THE CLASSROOM

Ockler explains that during each class, she leads a physical warm-up and an opening and closing ritual to place students in a positive working mindset and create a safe environment.

“Every class is designed around how best to create a safe and confident performing arts work environment,” Ockler says.

Then, Ockler leads a practical exercise exploring verbal communication, advocacy, and consent. One example of this is a game called “instant chemistry” where students, in order to create emotional intimacy, maintain prolonged eye contact with differing directives to motivate how they are looking at each other.

“[These exercises] allow us to create basic choreography, building blocks, so that eventually we will work towards creating scenes,” Ockler says. “Every time we have an exercise or work, we decompress and we talk about it, see how it went. We have a little discussion.”

Among the skills students learn, perhaps the most important are autonomy and advocacy.

“We practice advocating for yourself because we’ve discovered so much in our classroom setting about how living in this body at this day and age, in this country, has affected our ability to advocate for ourselves,” Ockler says. “Working in performing arts is such a vulnerable place. When you have to establish a boundary, it’s difficult because of all of our conditioning. You need to practice how to establish and then stand firmly, politely, and professionally by our boundaries.”

Many of the students in Ockler’s class say that understanding communication and consent is applicable outside of the performing arts, too.

“It’s pretty empowering to be able to practice saying no or saying yes,” says Mia Randers-Pehrson ’24. “I think it has a lot of practical applications in everyday life too, not just in performance, so that’s really fantastic.”

Jasen Cummings ‘24 says that it has often been hard for him to say “no” in social situations, but Ockler is beginning to teach him how to set healthy boundaries.

“As a society, the word ‘no’ has stopped being an option in a lot of circumstances, which makes the word ‘yes’ absolutely meaningless,” Cummings says. “The ability to turn things down and set boundaries is becoming an everyday part of our lives thanks to class games and activities surrounding consent.”

One exercise the students learn is called “May I” where one student asks another if they can enact different behaviors such as touching, caressing, gazing, etc. and the other can either consent or not.

According to Randers-Pehrson, Ockler assigned another exercise where students were asked to answer a spam call and say no.

“It’s a very low-stakes place: you can say no without having anything else involved,” Randers-Pehrson explains.

Ockler also says that there is a range of different techniques she utilizes in order to provide actors with as much experience as possible.

“My job is just to give actors and people working in performing arts tools, so I like to give as many different tools as possible,” Ockler says. “There’s not one sort of practice or process that we use. I introduce — on a really simplistic basic level — a bunch of different ideas so that anybody who’s taking the class can walk away and go ‘I like that one’ or ‘that one didn’t serve me.’”

THE INSURGENCE OF INTIMACY

Ockler’s work emerges in tandem with an artistic revolution as theatre practices begin to prioritize the protection of performers and advocacy for their right to consent. While there has been a smattering of organizations enforcing intimacy training in different forms, intimacy methodologies and direction have only become a codified staple of the performing arts community in the last ten years as #MeToo and #TimesUp, have brought a plethora of instances of mistreatment and disrespect of performers to light.

“The consideration around [the] health and safety of the actor was not put in place...we have seen a lot of trauma involved around that,” Ockler says. “I can tell you that everywhere I go, I have someone who has told me a story about what happened to them or what they have seen happen in front of them when involving this kind of work.”

In 2014, Tonia Sina, often credited for laying the foundation for intimacy direction, wrote Safe Sex: A Look at the Intimacy Choreographer for the Fight Master, which outlined the very first protocol for directing simulated intimacy. In 2016, Sina founded an organization called Intimacy Directors International — now called Intimacy Directors and Coordinators (IDC) — the first training company to provide education and advocate for intimacy practices for performance. The organization also created what is commonly referred to as the Pillars of Intimacy for Performance, a set of guidelines for directing intimacy which is now widely taught in theater communities, including Sarah Lawrence.

“It shouldn’t be something that’s left to the devices of two actors to figure out for themselves,” Ockler says. “It also shouldn’t be left to the devices of a director alone to navigate the actors through it because we’re dealing with a power dynamic … We need to have someone there that is not involved in that power dynamic at all that can help ensure that the actors have given consent.”

Cummings agrees that in order to maintain the safety of performers, intimacy practices must become a staple in professional theatre.

“I believe all theatre is intimate in some way, whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally,” Cummings says. “Actors are real people, not just pawns that the crew can manipulate in any way they see fit for storytelling. There needs to be a mutual level of respect between all parties involved in an intimate theatrical scene if a good story is going to be told, and that starts by setting boundaries and making sure everyone in the room is comfortable, safe, and not feeling pressured into doing anything.”

To this point, Ockler says that an intimacy director’s job is to “advocate for the health and safety of the actors” and “to facilitate communication” while performing scenes of intimacy.

She explains that part of the job also involves clarifying contractual obligations for actors when it comes to partaking in intimate scenes, conversing between departments about an actors’ needs, as well as choreographing scenes.

“These things existed in the past but what intimacy direction has done is made sure that they all fall under the auspices of one person,” Ockler says. “Now there are so many organizations across the United States that are pursuing advocacy for actors, health and safety when performing scenes of intimacy.”

ADVANCEMENT OF ACADEMIC ADVOCACY

Academic institutions have been at the forefront of intimacy coordination in performance since it’s establishment around 2016, spearheading the revolution of intimacy education and advocacy.

“Students have always been that voice of ‘we’re not gonna take it anymore,’” Ockler says.

Ockler has also been involved in intimacy coordination since the beginning; before coming to SLC, she taught intimacy practices in theatres and college conservatories such as NYU Tisch — where she developed and implemented the first college-level intimacy in performance course — Atlantic Theatre School and O’Neill Theatre Center.

“Now I’m developing this work with all of my students at Sarah Lawrence, which is really exciting,” Ockler says. “I’m continuing and developing the process with my students.”

Following the class, students can utilize the skills learned to effectively communicate and advocate in the professional world ––or become an intimacy director themselves.

“I think [understanding intimacy is] applicable no matter what your role is in the theatre,” says Carter-Cram, who hopes to continue working as a performer and technician. “Having an awareness of your boundaries as an artist can translate to a safer and more comfortable work environment for everybody.”

Ockler says that gaining an understanding of intimacy in performance will push young theatre-makers into a more respectful professional environment and she hopes to continue learning and growing with her students.

“It’s only going to continue to get bigger and better the longer it’s implemented into the program,” Ockler says. “It’s got to start somewhere, some time, and I’m just really feeling amazingly grateful that I get to be part of it as it’s breaking ground.”

Rehearsing Respect: Sarah Lawrence’s new theatre class, Introduction to Intimacy in Performance