Sarah Lozoff is a Los Angeles based intimacy director. After training at the Miami Conservatory (now Armour Dance Theatre) and New World School of the Arts, she performed soloist and principal roles with Ballet Rosario Suarez. Sarah taught ballet for professional companies and schools for over twenty years, and provided movement direction and choreography for numerous theatre productions over the past decade. As the first intimacy director to work with American Ballet Theatre, she intimacy directed the groundbreaking commissioned work, Touché, for both film and stage, and served as consulting intimacy director for ABT's Fall 2021 and Summer 2022 seasons. She was the first resident intimacy director for a major regional theatre (Oregon Shakespeare Festival), and named by Broadway Women's Fund as a "Woman to Watch on Broadway".
Sarah is also a certified Gyrotonic trainer, an experienced birth doula and childbirth educator, and a partner with Production on Deck. Sarah is currently the resident intimacy director for RudduR Dance, and continues to collaborate on diverse dance, theatre, film, and TV projects.
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Sarah Lozoff: I was working as a choreographer and movement director at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival when a friend sent me an article from the New York Times. The article was about a woman called Tonia Sina, who was at the forefront in the field of intimacy direction. The title of the article was something like "Need to fake an orgasm? There's a choreographer for that", which is a really misleading title because that is not what we do. There’s such a misconception, and people ask things like, “can you come help me in the bedroom?” To which I say no, that’s a different profession.
Reading the article, it really resonated with my background and spoke to several of the things I had done. I had been a dancer, so I had the performance background and perspective. I had also worked as a birth doula, where I learned what informed consent was, as well as how to create a space where someone can allow themselves to feel vulnerable and intimate in an otherwise crowded room.
Also, for the better part of a decade, I had been choreographing at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, working with actors. Often, choreographers or fight directors are asked about simulated sex scenes or simulated sexual violence and those scenes would fall to us. But we didn't have a shared vernacular, training, or support around it. So, the article really spoke to me. It seemed like a perfect combination of all the things I had done before.
Sarah: The specifics of my role really depend on the genre and the production, whether it’s dance, film, TV, or theatre. However, some basic tenets of it remain the same. One major aspect of my job is doing basic consent training and unpacking what that means in a freelance gig economy, and what it means for artists and collaborators to be able to use the word no.
I spend a lot of time encouraging individuals to assert their boundaries, to use the word no and to engage in more collaborative dialogues rather than constantly agreeing. A “no” doesn't necessarily need to halt a conversation or an entire production - it could be an opportunity to explore alternative options.
Sometimes, I get to focus on the actual choreography, such as designing a kiss or a simulated sex scene. It’s often very detailed work, such as focusing on the tilt of a head or the duration of eye contact after a kiss, or how someone's fingers react at first touch. This is the part I love most about the job, when I can really dive headfirst into the choreography.
However, in genres like dance, frankly, we don’t often get to this stage. Dance is so different to work with, because the choreographer is the “director” of the room, and they’re already telling the story through detailed physical movements. It can be challenging to offer input without stepping on anyone's toes.
Other logistics include facilitating communication between partners and different departments, such as wardrobe or lighting. In the case of film and TV, we also discuss protocols such as closed set protocols, which involve a stripped down version of the team that’s allowed to be on set for a certain scene.
Another part of my role is storytelling. I meet with the team to discuss the narrative they want to convey and facilitate conversations around that. I enjoy taking my opinion out of it and just facilitating the conversation.
We need to acknowledge that we're artists and individuals with the right, and perhaps even the responsibility, to set boundaries and take care of ourselves.
Sarah: Yes. However, it doesn't necessarily guarantee that. While it is true that they are more likely to speak up, it can still be challenging. As dancers, our voices are trained out of us from a really young age, so it can still feel really hard to speak up at all, much less to say the word no or express any discomfort. This is especially the case when we have been conditioned to keep going despite any discomfort or pain.
Sarah: Absolutely. I'm not sure how differently I would approach intimacy direction without the experiences that I've had. When I was first training, the industry was still quite small and virtually every intimacy director in the country knew each other by name, but that's no longer the case. I was one of the few intimacy directors without a fight direction background, but I was the only one I knew of that had done any birth doula work. There was another who was an abortion doula, also a fight director. Nowadays, I know many intimacy directors who have either received doula training afterward or already had that experience, so that tells us that there is a connection there.
Sarah: When I first trained, I was, as far as I can recall, the only one there with a classical dance background. Some people had danced or done musical theatre as kids, but I was the only one at that time with such a classical background. Now, there are a few more, which I do believe is important because dancers speak a different language in the studio, and we have that perspective that means we truly understand what the choreographer is saying - my ballet brain is still really engaged and I can take part in that conversation.
I think it’s also helpful that I understand the hierarchy and dynamics of a ballet studio from a lived experience perspective. It's not the same for someone who hasn't been in that world and doesn’t quite get how our voices have been trained out of us. We literally do a révérence at the end of every class - the hierarchy is so embedded. It's hard for people outside the ballet world to understand, and harder still for them to appreciate why we love such traditions even while acknowledging their inherent power dynamics.
We don't have the same traditions in theatre rooms. There, we don't bow to our teacher at the end of class or line up to thank them individually, which ballet dancers do, even as professionals. We almost back out of the room bowing! These traditions are deeply ingrained in ballet, and I want to acknowledge that while discussing how challenging it can be to assert oneself as an artist in such a hierarchical environment. I want to look at how we can still show up as an artist with full agency and be able to be a part of a collaborative process. I’m not suggesting we get rid of these traditions. I love révérence - it's a beautiful tradition. However, I want to acknowledge that it's not what happens at the end of a theatre rehearsal.
One of the skills I can attest to my background is my understanding of these unique challenges on an internal, lived-experience level. I now have a sense for what people in a ballet studio expect, like understanding the nuanced rules of when it's potentially okay to speak or not. I’m not saying we need to diminish ourselves, but if you want to be heard, you need to speak the right language and create space for conversation without people taking offence.
I often get asked about partnering classes and partnering in a company. The main question is whether dancers need to ask each other's permission every time they touch. That's impractical and time-consuming. I believe it's important to devise methods that work in these circumstances, which again calls for lived experience.
Sarah: Yes, it's interesting how these elements can complement each other. Many actors don’t feel they have much agency either, but they’re specifically trained to use their voice. They may not necessarily wield it in authoritative conversations, but they are trained to project their voice. In terms of physicality for actors, I frequently find myself asking, "How can we better embody this?" For dancers, however, I try to see if we can get them to use some of those vocal techniques that the actors have. Ideally, these two aspects merge perfectly.
Sarah: Yes, the awareness has improved. As for convincing people, I don’t typically try to do that, as I question how much they’re going to be able to receive if they don’t even believe I should be there. I am sometimes brought in by leadership that believes in the work, and then I’m dealing with faculty or artists who aren't fully on board. Not everyone is always 100% supportive. I expect there to be a couple of sceptical voices at every gig. I recently read an article about Toni Collette, who has asked intimacy coordinators to leave her set because they made her more uncomfortable than if they weren't there at all. Conversely, other big celebrities have become strong advocates, asking why we didn't have this kind of thing sooner and confirming how important it is. It's still a mixed bag, but I do see improvement because there is just greater awareness around the role.
However, specifically in dance, intimacy directors are still not being utilised much, and there's only very slight improvement. I know of several companies where the dancers fought to get intimacy direction into their union agreements, but that still hasn’t happened, even though it's been in their contracts for one or two years. Some companies engage intimacy directors superficially, to tick a box rather than to truly engage them in improving the environment.
...by providing space for active consent and taking care of our mental well-being just as we do our physical well-being, we’ll ensure better engagement, better storytelling, and more engaged artists, which in turn means more engaged audiences.
Sarah: It’s different in a number of ways. For the stage, it has to be sustainable. Actors sometimes live with their roles for months at a time, performing several shows a week. So any physical action we come up with, like something on your knees, for example, needs to be repeated several times a week for months. So, we need to consider whether it's worth the risk or if we should build in some knee pads or change the movement.
In contrast, for screen, the focus is to get the shot. It might need repeating several times, but unlike the stage, we won't be coming back to it day after day, week after week, month after month. That said, you have to be okay with it living forever - once it's out there, it's permanent. When a stage performance is over, it's typically done unless there's a special recording of it. That's the magic of live performance - we get to experience this momentary thing together as an audience.
Another difference is that on screen, we can work with angles and zoom. We can show people getting close, zoom into their hands, and it implies what's coming next. We then show them waking up in bed next to each other and we’ve not shown anything. In theatre, lighting can help us do a bit of that, but it's quite different. Sometimes film is actually much more graphic, but then we have protocols and equipment to ensure safety between performers.
Lastly, the preparation process for stage and screen is different. For stage, we have more time to figure things out during the rehearsal process. But for film, much preparation is done over the phone during pre-production, because once we're on set, we need to move quickly to avoid wasting film or daylight.
Sarah: I think acknowledging that we haven't historically done this, but that we can, is often a major lightbulb moment for many people. Does this mean everyone will be ready to do this immediately? No, and not everyone needs to. However, we need to acknowledge that we're artists and individuals with the right, and perhaps even the responsibility, to set boundaries and take care of ourselves. Interestingly, while dancers are conditioned to keep pushing themselves, they're also trained to recognise when they've gone too far. I think the key is to apply this understanding not only to physical boundaries but also to mental and emotional wellness.
So, how do we translate the preventative measures we take for physical injuries - like warming up, using a Thera-Band, rolling out - to our mental and emotional health? There’s cross-training and various physical recovery methods that we do for ourselves physically for injury prevention and care. What does the equivalent of those for mental and emotional care look like? I think these are important questions to ask.
We’re also often dealing with emotionally heavy content; people think Romeo and Juliet is a love story, but it’s portraying a community steeped in generational violence and is about teen suidice, which there is currently an epidemic of. Let’s make space to talk about that. It doesn’t mean we have to shy away from it, but it is important for us to acknowledge these aspects and provide artists with a means to actively consent to engaging with such heavy material. It’s not about coddling, but rather asking how we can fortify ourselves to go and essentially do some Olympic level feats every day - not just physically, but emotionally as well.
So by providing that space for active consent and taking care of our mental well-being just as we do our physical well-being, we’ll ensure better engagement, better storytelling, and more engaged artists, which in turn means more engaged audiences.
Sarah: Part of it is what I just mentioned - if we allow artists the agency to use their voice and be true collaborators, it can make a difference. By allowing artists to bring their unique experiences, even those they're less comfortable with, we can create more authentic narratives. This isn't about protecting them from discomfort, but rather acknowledging their experiences. For example, saying, "I didn't realise you had dealt with that recently. What do you need from us to do your best work here? How brave of you to still show up." Engaging in this means this person now has a really personal insight into what this character is going through. If we don't have that discussion, artists might be more cautious about how much they bring to the work, and I do think that shows up in storytelling.
In terms of intimate scenes, the choreography can really assist the storytelling. I’ve seen firsthand what a difference one moment of eye contact can make; perhaps it’s the pacing, the tempo, or a tiny expression, or breath work, but all this detailed work allows an audience to lean in. We can get so much more specific.
In theatre and film there is a script with directions. Dance is so detailed that you might get a correction about your pinky finger. But for the longest time, we would come to a scene with a kiss, which is often a pivotal moment in a story, and it would say, “now they kiss”. If I can come in and ask, “Who starts the kiss? How long does it last? Is it an awkward first kiss? Who stops it? Was it mutual?” Now we’re giving it the same level of detail and respect that we’re giving the rest of the production. This extends to other forms of intimacy too, such as the relationship between a parent and child or how characters deal with death.
In a piece like Romeo and Juliet, where the character Juliet is often depicted as dead, we need to handle it respectfully. How do we deal with the person discovering her body or kissing her hand? This can be tricky, especially for people who have recently dealt with death or those who have never seen a dead body. The person playing the dead character often has no agency, having to remain still with their eyes closed. So, how do we include them in the conversation? What do they need to feel comfortable? This requires careful consideration and is part of the complexity of storytelling.
Sarah: Hopefully we would have had a discussion about potentially triggering themes long before staging. Ideally, these themes are even mentioned in the audition notice. However, nothing is perfect, and this doesn't always happen. Hopefully, all the artists involved, including the creative team, are aware of these themes and have consented to participate. I remind everyone along the way that they can always talk to me, or if there's someone else they can speak to, such as the director or HR. These communication pathways are essential, as is having those conversations early and often.
I also encourage people to practise good self-care rituals and emotional fitness, for the sake of their mental and emotional wellness. I like to tell people to start doing this when things are going well so that they have access to these tools when things get tough. It's also important for performers to have some artist-character separation - we can bring ourselves to it, but we also have to come back to ourselves at the end of the day and give ourselves time to rest.
I often liken it to this: no one advises Olympic swimmers to stay in the pool 18 to 23 hours a day. Similarly, I don’t think we should be doing that with difficult stories and characters. I know fans of method acting might disagree, but artists shouldn't have to “live it”. For example, if I were to play the character of Blanche from A Streetcar Named Desire, I wouldn't want her to come home with me at the end of the night. If I’m going to play that role and do it well, bringing my full self, understanding her on a complex level and embodying her every night, I have to get out of that pool after I’ve done my hard Olympic-level swimming. But I need to know, how do I rest? I really encourage people to find self-care rituals that they’re already doing, but perhaps haven’t labelled as such. Things like washing your makeup off - can that be done with intention? Is there a certain song you listen to? It’s about nourishing yourself so that you can get back into it the next day.
Sarah: I think this is where that responsibility comes in. First, we need to model and practise self-care for ourselves, and allow those around us to see what that looks like. It can be tough to be the first one to do anything, especially if no one in your circle is doing it. Saying no can also be a challenge if you've never heard it said before. If someone says no to us, it may be surprising, but we need to thank them for their honesty. We all need practice receiving a “no” without taking offence.
Like I mentioned about rituals, find things you're already doing for yourself and do them with intention and care. Recognise that we need and deserve this self-care. Again, this is part of how we fortify ourselves so that we can dive deep again the next day. We all have our own ways of unwinding: recognise what those things already are and do them with intention. These things are also going to be different at different times in our lives, and might not always be possible, and that’s okay. Things happen in our lives that need our attention, but if we practise these rituals when we can, we can always return to them when we need to.
Sarah: Communication is key, even if it's succinct. For instance, in partnering, we should ask questions like, "Was that okay for you? How was that for you? Did you need something different from me?" It's important to have this dialogue. I encourage both partners to do this irrespective of the studio, company, or school culture, which might dictate who gets to speak.
If you're a dance teacher, please encourage partners to communicate efficiently and quietly. It's a scientific process. What worked? What didn't? Let’s try again until we get it right and always ensure we're looking at and talking to each other. At the end of it, say "Thanks for working with me today."
Sarah: I'd start with the advice, which is to make sure that your emotional and mental wellness is strong, and that you have strong self-care practices in place. It doesn’t mean it’s going to be perfect. It doesn’t mean you can’t falter. You’re still going to have bad days. But you have to make sure you are doing the work you're asking others to do, especially because some people may not believe in what you're doing. You can't take that personally either. You have to be pretty good at being able to separate things.
As for encouraging dancers to follow this path, we do need more dancers. However, although intimacy direction has grown significantly in recent years, the industry, particularly in dance, may not yet fully support the number of intimacy directors we have now, especially with budget cuts and hiring freezes.
The market is quite tight, and I wouldn't want to mislead anyone into thinking that after training, they'll work consistently and find it easy. The market right now is challenging across the board in theatre, dance, film, and TV. The dual strikes in Los Angeles last year have been particularly hard, and many intimacy directors are now working dual roles as fight directors.
The American theatre landscape is struggling financially, reducing staff and the number of shows. So it’s a difficult market, but I wouldn't want to discourage anyone. We need more dancers, and if you have a passion for it, absolutely go for it. However, if you think this is an easy way to switch careers and start making money right away, that's not the case. You'll need something else to sustain you.
Top image by Kim Budd
