Queer Director, Amanda Washington, Stages Chemistry as Intimacy Choreographer
Amanda Washington (Image courtesy of subject)
Ever been to a theatrical production or seen a film and asked yourself, or the person next to you, how someone built up the courage to perform a nude scene? Better yet, have you ever marveled at how realistic the sex scene was or the perfection of the characters' intimacy?
If so, the answer is simple. More often than not, the crew had an intimacy choreographer, coordinator, or director. For the last few years, Amanda Washington has trained to become one.
"Intimacy choreography is almost like a math equation. 'Take your right hand and place it on their shoulder. Leave it there for five seconds. Like a feather, pull it away,'" Washington told The Reckoning. "But if someone says, 'caress the top of their shoulder,' whose version are we going with? Two plus two is always going to equal four, but if you look at it in terms of ingredients and give a performer the set of repeatable ingredients, it works."
Intimacy choreography bridges gaps in performance. And for Washington—it is perfect for someone who is an overthinker like her.
"You don't have to overanalyze it," she said. "In certain cases, intimacy choreography leaves space for performers to fill in what they believe is fitting for their character. There may be directions as a director that I give, but on a certain level, the actor will know more about their character than the director ever will. When the curves of intimacy choreography are added, the choices are made from the character's identity, which starts to feel natural for the performer."
Washington, recently named Associate Artistic Director for Actors Express, began training in intimacy choreography in early 2020—just before the COVID-19 shutdown in the United States. A few months later, she obtained her MFA from the University of Southern Mississippi. One of her professors at the time suggested she look into it.
"They were like, 'Hey, there is this thing called an intimacy choreographer; it's really straightforward and works well for someone who overthinks like you,'" she said. "I went to my first intimacy workshop in February 2020 and immediately fell in love."
The pandemic was the ideal time.
"I have always loved a good challenge, and here we were during this time when we couldn't come into contact with others," she said. "If I cannot touch you, how do I get across the same emotions in a different way? There is eye play, which can be effective, but what happens when that doesn't work? Everybody does not always like to look others in the eyes. Maybe you touch an object in relation to that person instead and express your emotions that way? What more can we do?"
The pandemic served as an ideal testing ground to expand her understanding and approach to intimacy choreography.
Amanda Washington (Image courtesy of subject)
Afro-Futurist, Cultural Worker
"The first thing I do is read the script to determine if I am the right person for this specific production. In some instances, the production may need someone with more or different experience," she said. "I have to consider what I know and where I am in my journey. I also have to determine if the story excites me. Even though we do not always get the luxury of doing exciting things, I want to stay as close to the exciting things."
She also looks at the moments of intimacy in the script and considers what they may require of her, the actors, and what the audience may pick up from them. Washington's process also entails having a conversation with the director where several things are determined. They include how the director envisions the intimate scenes if casting has already begun, if actors are aware of kissing or nudity or whatever moments of intimacy may be, language anticipations, discussions regarding consent, conversations around boundaries, and relationship-building exercises.
Preparation and a commitment to protocol are tantamount. Washington highlights observing the intimacy choreography for last summer's production of BootyCandy at Actor's Express. She watched as Ash Anderson (they/them) staged the nudity.
"From what I observed during the process, Ash was attentive to protocol — having a clear list of who was in the room when the hotel scene was getting staged. What day was the cast going to rehearse the hotel scene? What were the backup plans if the actor was no longer comfortable doing the nudity on any given day? Entrances and Exits for the actor. Would someone be backstage waiting for the actor with a robe?" said Washington. "The actors seemed to be at ease when working with Ash. That was most likely due to the clear communication and respect for boundaries."
The work of intimacy choreography can also take a toll. From what kind of energy one needs to bring to the production to what impact the job can have on one's emotional and mental well-being. It takes a lot of awareness. Her therapist, Washington said, has been integral.
“I want to know the stories of the people who came before me. I want to honor those who came before me. It takes a certain level of consciousness and dreaming.”
- Amanda Washington
Cast image from Actor’s Express’ production of BootyCandy (2022)
"I am a sponge, so I am fully aware that there are certain energies I cannot absorb. I know not to take anything personally or to make assumptions," Washington said. "If there are moments where I mess up because things may happen, it's important to apologize, move forward, and write it down, so I know not to do it again, and if I have a question to ask it. Research, get the information I need about how the person feels, and make amends. While I know I am not always responsible for the actor's well-being, I am responsible for how I communicate."
A native of Lithonia, Georgia, Washington, who identifies as queer, sees herself as a cultural worker.
"It is how I like to view myself," she said. "As an afro-futurist, I want to go get the stories of my ancestors and send them forward so that those who come after me can have them."
Having gone to predominantly white schools and learned in primarily white environments, she lost out on delving into stories about Black people. There was a bright spot, she said, during high school. But by the time she got to graduate school, she knew something needed to change.
"I couldn't keep going down [that] path. I couldn't keep going to Shakespeare when August Wilson and others were telling our stories," she said. "I want to know the stories of the people who came before me. I want to honor those who came before me. It takes a certain level of consciousness and dreaming. Directing and intimacy choreography affords me the ability to figure out the stories, how I want to tell them, and in what different ways I want to tell them."
Mashaun D. Simon is an equity and inclusion advocate who centers his preaching, writing, and scholarship on cultural competency, identity, and equity.
He has written for NBC News and the Atlanta Daily World, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Black Enterprise, Bloomberg News, TheGrio.com, Ebony Magazine, BelieveOutLoud.com, and Essence Magazine. He has also created and managed cultural competency and affirmative action programming and training and in 2018, Mashaun organized and facilitated Kennesaw State University’s Faith and Sexuality Symposium on behalf of KSU’s Presidential Commission for LGBT Initiatives. In 2021, Mashaun was selected as a member of the inaugural cohort of the Rising Leaders Fellowship.
He holds a professional writing degree from Georgia Perimeter College, a Bachelor of Science in Communications from Kennesaw State University, and a Master of Divinity from Emory University's Candler School of Theology.