Meet the trailblazers changing the face of porn
- Text by Brit Dawson
- Photography by Monica Figueras
Over the last few years, sex in film has become the topic du jour online. Some of the discourse – largely about what we see on-screen – has been brain-meltingly insufferable (hello, Poor Things), but other conversations, like those about behind-the-scenes behaviour, have been productive, and have even led to transformative changes in the industry. Most recently, these have been about intimacy coordinators. Before 2017’s MeToo movement, nobody had heard of the role, and yet now, seven years on – and with an unprecedented amount of media attention – it’s become a regular fixture on mainstream film and TV sets.
The role of an intimacy coordinator is to act as a liaison between the actors and crew, ensuring there’s consent, comfort, pre-agreed nudity and choreography, and a sustained open and frank dialogue. A whole host of actors, including some of Hollywood’s biggest stars, have spoken candidly about how the role has been revolutionary in their experience of filming sex scenes, with Michaela Coel even dedicating her 2021 Bafta win to pioneering intimacy coordinator Ita O’Brien.
But what happens when the actors aren’t just simulating sex, but actually having it? Very little attention has been paid to the role of intimacy coordinators on porn sets, and yet they’re becoming a ubiquitous presence in the adult industry, too. While much of the prep is the same – pre-scene consent talks, setting boundaries, empowering actors to stop a scene at any point – certain things are unique to porn sets, like STI testing, deciding on and providing protection, and more rigorous emotional and physical preparation and support. Although there’s a plethora of training services now available for intimacy coordinators in Hollywood, pornographers have largely been left to figure it out for themselves – that is, aside from a few trail blazers leading the way.
One of those is Izabela Bartyzel, a photographer and videographer, and the founder of RedCheeks, a rare (if not the only) organisation that teaches intimacy coordination in adult media. Bartyzel, like all of the intimacy coordinators I spoke to, came to the role after working in pornography in a different capacity. For her, it was as a photographer, then a general manager, and then a company director. “I learned everything on the job,” she tells me over Zoom from her Amsterdam apartment. “I think the role was in the industry already, but we just didn’t make that much of it.”
“Nowadays, conversations around consent don’t just stop with, ‘What’s going on today?’, we’re also asking, ‘Where’s this film going? How am I going to be described and titled?’.”
It’s true that many of the protocols associated with intimacy coordination have existed in the adult industry for a long time (many production companies have best practice guidelines, including agreeing to sex acts, like BDSM, and boundaries beforehand, establishing safe words, and healthy on-set conditions that cater to any medical needs performers may have), but they haven’t always been adhered to, and there hasn’t necessarily been someone supporting performers in a really holistic way.
Ethical porn director Erika Lust, for example, has long employed a talent manager as a liaison between performers and producers, but that role has only relatively recently evolved into what we now consider to be intimacy coordination. “A talent manager is more about organising agreements, flights, and accompanying performers to their hotels, whereas intimacy coordination is more about bonding with them, understanding their needs and minds, and supporting them in a different way,” explains Anarella Martinez, an event and film producer, performance artist, and the in-house intimacy coordinator at Erika Lust Films, whose first experience in the adult industry was organising her own sex festival in 2015. “My role is also to understand why they want to be in porn, what exposure they’re going to have, whether they’ve thought about their family knowing, and if they have any mental or physical health issues.”
“The more you get to know them, the more you construct a relationship of trust,” adds Lust. “It’s also a lot of talking about pleasure: ‘What works for you? What makes you cum? What kind of touch do you like? How do you feel today?’. All of the very important conversations you should be having with a lover – but ones that people don’t often have in real life.”
So, what’s a typical week (or so)-in-the-life of a porn intimacy coordinator? For Bartyzel, like for intimacy coordinators in the non-adult film industry, the first thing on the agenda is to see the script, flag any particularly explicit scenes, and then ask lots of questions. “Like, ‘What do you mean by, ‘They have sex’?’,” she says. “It may sound obvious, but we need to know what exactly they’re going to do.” Bartyzel then talks to the performers about the script, STI testing, and protection, answers any questions they might have, and enforces the golden rule: that they don’t have to do anything they don’t feel comfortable with. Any specific requests are then passed onto the director. Before the shoot, Bartyzel will do rehearsals with the performers, as well as bonding exercises to make them feel more comfortable with each other. “I’d also establish with the director that I have the ability to call ‘cut’ if necessary.”
Lust recalls a recent instance in which she and Martinez had to do this on one of their sets. “The performer wanted to use a condom, but in the heat of the moment, they didn’t remember they’d said that,” she explains. “We’re the back-up to make sure that what they’ve talked about before is being respected in front of the camera.”
This, as well as after-shoot check-ins – in which intimacy coordinators ask for feedback from performers both on the day, if possible, and a few days later – has been a major pro for adult performer Jet Setting Jasmine when she’s worked with them on set. “It takes so much pressure off when someone else is advocating for your boundaries,” she says, adding that having a follow-up to say, ‘I know you did a hard thing, how was it for you?’, allows her to “not feel disposable after being so vulnerable”.
As well as being a porn performer, director, and the co-owner of Royal Fetish Films (a diversity-focused adult site that rejects the discriminatory tropes common in porn), Jasmine is an on-set wellness consultant and intimacy coordinator who works on adult and non-adult films as part of Reps on Set. “We’re one of the few that actually consider the crew,” she tells me. “The actors aren’t the only folks taking in take after take of particular content. The same goes for editors, for example, who might have to watch clips of a hardcore BDSM scene over and over.” Once, during the filming of a particularly powerful and tense BDSM scene, Jasmine asked the director if she could pause and call for the cast and crew to take a collective deep breath. “Just to say, ‘That was really powerful, everybody’s doing a great job’, but to acknowledge that it’s intense for everyone.”
In this way, porn producers can be a really valuable addition to non-porn sets. Not only do they have inimitable experience when it comes to the physical and mental logistics of sex scenes, but they’re also unafraid of speaking candidly about intimacy, nudity, and even trauma. In fact, while Petra Von Schatz, a Paris-based adult actor and on-set photographer, founder of La Branlée porn collective, and intimacy coordinator trainee who’s also worked across both adult and non-adult sets, was once nervous of facing stigma as a porn actor in a non-porn world, she now believes this experience has given her the “sensitivity that goes beyond the protocol of what intimacy coordination can be”. “When I tell the cast I’m a porn actress, I can feel a shift,” she explains, “because I’ve done it too, and so they feel allowed to ask things like, ‘Is it awkward for you to also be naked?’.”
“It’s coming slowly, but you can already feel the change.”
“People have said that they’ve been asked questions they’ve never been asked before about their comfort level as it relates to intimacy,” adds Jasmine. “People have said they’ve felt more cared for on our sets than in some of their personal relationships.”
Most, if not all, of porn’s intimacy coordinators have so far learned on the job. But now Bartyzel’s RedCheeks, which launched in 2022, offers those in the industry the chance to expand their knowledge, or even begin their porn journey. As per the most recent curriculum, a RedCheeks five-week workshop comprises 10 modules, covering ethical decision-making in intimate scene production, the history of pornography, communication techniques, consent, boundaries, safety, and documentation, and more. “I wanted to create a different type of education, where there are no exams, grades, or certificates,” says Bartyzel. “And I wanted people to not feel afraid of making mistakes, and to be curious about other people’s perspectives and give them feedback. So I provide them with the information and the tools, and then I have them figure out how to do things better.”
Bartyzel stresses that it’s not just about teaching people how to fulfil the specific role of ‘intimacy coordinator’, it’s also about education for “a whole ecosystem working together”. “[This responsibility] can’t just go to one person because if everyone ignores the intimacy coordinator, they won’t be able to do much.” Bartyzel tells me that a lot of people who attend RedCheeks workshops are independent filmmakers (as opposed to aspiring intimacy coordinators), who simply want a better understanding of how to ensure safety on set.
It’s worth noting that, while a number of porn production companies are adopting the role, and others already have a similar one in place, intimacy coordinators are still largely exclusive to ethical porn makers, and haven’t yet been widely adopted by mainstream studios. Two adult film stars I spoke to, who asked to remain anonymous, told me they’d never come across an intimacy coordinator on shoots. This tracks with Anarella’s experience. “What we often see with mainstream performers is that it’s new to have someone caring for them like this,” says Martinez.
Lust adds: “I’ve heard from many performers that after they had this kind of treatment, they understood that in many other situations they haven’t had the treatment they’d have liked, but they didn’t realise before because they haven’t seen that it was possible to do it in another way.”
That’s not to say mainstream porn studios don’t have regulations in place and aren’t taking care of their performers. As a matter of fact, Lust says these studios have “had their eyes on” ethical companies like Erika Lust for a while, and increasingly “want to work together to get better standards in the whole industry”. “The porn industry might have had many problems in the past,” she continues, “but it’s definitely working hard to become better and more aware, at least in the part of the industry that’s professional and serious.” For her part, Lust is trying to bring awareness to the role of intimacy coordinator – both in and out of porn – most recently campaigning to get the (non-porn) role recognised at the Oscars as well as fighting for it to be a standard practice in the porn industry.
“Right now in Hollywood, certain actors are having intimacy coordinators baked into their contracts, which I think is awesome,” says Jasmine. “For us in the adult industry, that might look like performers saying, ‘I’m going to bring my friend with me for support’, but, instead of taking two people but paying for one, it would be really great if [there was an industry standard, so every studio] could say, ‘Our budget includes an intimacy coordinator, as well as mental health support before, during, and after’.”
Even if that’s not a widespread reality just yet, Jasmine says the current fledgling shift is another example of how porn actors are becoming increasingly empowered in a more democratised porn industry. “This all comes from the shift in technology where we’re able to put out our own content, and monetize and monopolise our own images and bodies,” she explains, “which puts us in a better place to negotiate areas that perhaps there may have been consent violations around in the past. Nowadays, conversations around consent don’t just stop with, ‘What’s going on today?’, we’re also asking, ‘Where’s this film going? How am I going to be described and titled?’.”
In light of RedCheeks’ success, it’s clear that there’s a demand in the adult industry for better guidelines and protocols that will make all those involved in porn feel safe. And, while the specific role of intimacy coordinator is in its early stages, it’s already having a huge impact for those who’ve worked alongside it. “It was so much more comforting to have someone to talk to on-set, especially about things that can be difficult or embarrassing to bring up,” concludes Von Schatz. “It’s coming slowly, but you can already feel the change.”
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