like to thank the German Israeli Future Foundation for enabling the collaboration between the Tel Aviv Utopia Festival, which I'm a part of, and Republika Conference, which I'm very proud of being part of as well this year. So my name is Maya Magnat, and I'm a theater director and performance artist.

In my work, I use my own experiences as material, and since I'm very interested in digital intimacy and the effect of technology on our lives, in the last years I have started to do digital performance. The term of digital performance was coined by Steve Dixon, a professor of performance studies and

media performance. It means a performance work in which computer technologies are essential in the content, technique, aesthetics, or delivery form. So today I'll present four of my digital performance works and how the subject of online intimacy is addressed in each one. My interest in

online intimacy started on OkCupid's online dating site. I was on this site for four years and met most of my partners there, but more than that, this site became a huge part of my life because for four years I shared my life

with people I met there. I always had someone to talk to, and it helped me feel less lonely. I never met some of these people. Some became my offline friends, but with a lot of them I shared intimate moments where our souls touched through the screen. But even though the feeling of online intimacy

was intoxicating and helped me gain self-confidence, I knew that I was always alone together. Even though I was connected to a never-ending network of friends, I was still alone in my room. The concept of alone together was coined by Sherry Turkle, a psychoanalysis and researcher of human

technology interaction. It became such a major feeling in my life that when I started doing works that combined fear and technology, I found myself drawn to it over and over again. But why are we all looking for intimacy? In her book May TV in captivity, Estelle Pearl explains that we started looking

for intimacy when it started being harder to get. The industrialisation and city life made people lonelier and disconnected, and intimacy became the answer for a life of isolation. The subject of online intimacy has been a major research subject since the 90s. The early researchers of

the web argue that there is no way for real intimacy to occur online, because the web is limited and lacks the information we have in face-to-face communication. Technology has killed intimacy. But today, there are new approaches, like Stefana Broadband, a digital ethnogafel that argues that because technology makes us feel more

like we are exposed, we have an even bigger need for intimacy. We use social networks to stay in touch with our loved ones, and tighten our relationships with them. Digital technologies actually provide a kind of safety net that provides us with comfort and

confidence. Another type of digital intimacy is the one we have with our digital devices. We stroke their touchscreen, we carry them in our pockets, we are attentive to every sound and vibration they make, and we're afraid of losing them. They are the first thing we see in the morning, and the last

thing we look on before we go to bed. Isn't this romantic? So, is technology the killer of intimacy, or is it just another way to reach meaningful connections? And how can I create intimacy in digital performance? These were the questions I started with. One of my first digital performing works was a

Facebook performance. This is not Maya. In this work, I gave my Facebook password to 12 people who portrayed my Facebook persona for 48 hours. This was the first status they

uploaded. I'm sure you can understand what it means. My family and my partner's family also understood what it meant, but they didn't know it was a part of an art project which led to a few unpleasantries. The idea of the project was to

deconstruct my identity. We normally use Facebook as a marketing tool and show only the good parts of our lives. So during these 48 hours, I split my Facebook persona and let the operators play with it. I gave them permission to send me private messages, chat with my friends, and do

everything they wanted on my profile, which left me very exposed. Usually not even your parents or your partner get to see the backstage of your profile. And here, 12 people were welcome not only to look, but to touch. Furthermore, their action had an actual effect on my

offline life. During the project, my partner tried to create intimacy with the operators during this

performance, but it was somewhat forced, and certainly not mutual, because I was the only one exposed and the only one in danger. The next work I'm going to talk about addresses the subject of intimacy in a more complex way. The player is the only one exposed and the only player is the player. The player users is a play for four actors and four tablets. It was written by my

friend who is a researcher in NYU and the artistic manager of the festival for digital culture, among many other things. We started working together because we share an interest in theatre and technology. I really wanted to direct this play because it was the

first Israeli play I read that dealt with technology as a theme. And also was a great opportunity for me to use digital devices on stage. The play doesn't follow one plot line, but consists of 13 different scenes. It deals with relationship between people in the

digital age and how technology affects our everyday life. Every scene in the play showed these subjects from a different perspective, placing a theatrical black mirror in front of the audience. Four actors play the different characters and use tablets, projections, and GoPro camera to create the visual language of the play.

It's theatre here in Israel, where a play investigates how our relationship with technology is shaping our relationship with each other. More in the next report by our very own Mai Palti.

If Shakespeare knew that technology, Facebook, and Snapchat would be claiming their way to theatres, he would have probably rolled over in his grave or snapping a cute selfie. Alone Together is a new play by Lior Zalmunsen, capturing relationships in the tablet area alone and together. Falling

deeply in love with Siri, dealing with the conflict of in a relationship versus single on Facebook, and the never-ending search for a meaning in Google. These are a few of our daily moments Alone Together is dealing with, with great courage while looking straight in the eyes of your iPhone. The show kind of tests how it is, how it affects

us in our daily lives. What's the nice parts of it? What are like the dangerous parts that we can get to? And it kind of shows you a wide kind of perspective of it. We are appreciative of the fact that we've got internet. How can we not be? In fact, 27% of

young Americans are using dating sites and Facebook are claiming to have 1 billion daily active users. So why is it important to even talk about it? Just that people will come and watch it and talk with us about it and it will start a conversation about these objects that are actually affecting our everyday life but

we don't stop and just think about them. The characters in the play try to connect to a person or an object or even a memory. They're all looking for intimacy. A woman

goes on what she thinks to be a normal date and discovers that her date is a part, works at a friend rental service. A dad tries to change their relationship status on Facebook after breaking up. The play shows how we

are drawn apart by technology, treat people as devices and devices as people. Most of the scenes don't have a happy ending and the characters can't escape their loneliness. But in one scene, the play shows an option for a different ending. A guy and a girl meet for the first time in a video chat room where people can say the truth about

each other. As they go on with the game, they become more and more direct and personal. People online usually feel protected behind the mask of anonymity. So they are willing to expose themselves. And this effect is called strangers on a train. Strangers that trust each other because they know they will never meet

again. This is why we are more trusting online and develop intimacy quicker than in face-to-face communication. This anonymity helps the character to tell each other the truth until they fully expose themselves and take their clothes off. The actors use the tablets as screens and pass them in front of their body. While the actors stay dressed, the audience can see their

naked body on the screens. The actors who are standing facing the audience as though they are in different places turn to look at each other for the first time. Suddenly it's as if they are together in the same room and not in an online chat room. When they look at each other naked, they ask, what's next? A question the audience

doesn't know the answer to. Will the characters meet offline? And if they do, will they connect? The next show I'm going to talk about was based on my own online chat experience. When I was working on this project, I met a girl online. Her name was also Maya. I didn't

know how she looked like and I didn't even know her full name. But she was so interesting, I just had to chat with her. It was my first online relationship and we chatted for a few weeks and shared our thoughts and our fantasies and our experiences until I realized I have been catfished and Maya wasn't

exactly who she said she was. That experience of an online chat with a mysterious being later appeared in Interfacing, a show I created and performed in that deals with the relationship between a woman and the technology surrounding her. The name of the show in Hebrew is, when are we going to interface?

Which is a word play because the word interface in Hebrew, it resembles the word kiss. So actually it sounds like, when are we going to kiss? In the show, the technology is represented by a video recording of my lips. In order to bring a relationship on stage, I chose to enter

technology and create a character with whom I can interact. At the beginning of the show, we have a professional relationship where she gives me instructions and I execute them. But the relationship gradually takes on an intimate and sexual nature as she asks me to touch her. By the end, we unite

to form a third entity out of the connection between the live and recorded personas. Hello Maya, do you want to touch me?

Do you want to feel me? Do you want to kiss me? Do you want to put your hand inside my hard drive, my USB output? Do you want to interface? Do

you like using digital devices to turn them on? Do you want to touch my screen?

Describe it to me. I can almost feel you. Slide me. You can choose my lips design. What color do you like? I have

a lot of display options you can choose from. Don't stand so close. You can see all my pixels. That's better. I will always be with you.

I'll never hurt you or leave you or break your heart. You can feel safe with me. You'll never be alone again.

During this show, I also tried to examine the connection between technology and the audience. The audience is using laptop computers as you saw. They're playing a computer game with a digital avatar and

interface with the technology of lips and use their smartphones. And through their participation, they become a part of the show. The audience, unlike me, have a choice of reacting to technology as they see fit. So will they connect or try to disconnect? In the middle of the show, there's a blackout. All

the screens turn off and the lips disappear. The audience doesn't know that the blackout is a part of the show and try to help me to turn the power on. We understand how dependent we are on technology, how much we need it and how helpless we are without it. When the technology is gone, the audience and I unite for the first time.

We are together alone in the dark. I ask the audience to use their phones a lighted device and describe to them what they would have seen if the technology was working. As the performance draws to an end, I am in my underwear and stand very close to the audience. I peel off my skin as an image for the metamorphosis I

undergo in order to connect with the technology and become one with it. Following my connection with technology, my body remains still on the table as the audience leaves the room. So, is the connection between the technology and me the ultimate intimacy or is it the complete opposite? On the one hand, we are

connected. We share the same body, the same thoughts and feelings like every lover desiring to become one with his loved one. On the other hand, if we become one, we lose our individual self. Is the best intimacy one where both sides give themselves up and become one? Or when both are going

through a process to become closer? The last project I'm going to talk about was the first time I created a more mutual frame for intimacy. This is a work in progress called Coded, a performative video game for a single player and a performer that deals with mediated communication. During this

performance, I'm sitting next to a computer attached to it by USB cables that seem to be going after my body. The player is invited to use the computer in order to activate me. He can choose between different actions like kiss, hug, pain, passion, compassion, et cetera. After

choosing an action, the player will get instructions that will tell him what he needs to do in order to start the action he chose. Every action has its own price and the player has to decide if he's willing to play. Coded is an attempt to deconstruct and reveal my code,

creating an intimate interactive program of my mind that the player can activate. The player activates me, but he's also being activated by me at the same time. In the performance, I reveal my intimate feelings and thoughts, but also encourage the player to share his. For example, if the player chooses

the action naked, they need to take off an item of clothing in order to make me remove one, too. So this is my user interface with 12 actions the player can choose from. But my code can also be hacked. A playful player can ignore the instructions

and try to activate me in different ways. For instance, he can try to talk to me and ask me to do a different action. I can choose whether I like to react or not. A relationship is created between the player and me. Our communication is mediated through a computer, but

through it, we share stories and touch each other physically and emotionally. This mutual sharing of feelings and thoughts is what intimacy means. It's a dynamic process where both partners learn about each other. Intimacy is the ability to expose ourselves and share feelings, fears, and wishes, but also the ability to enable this sharing

from a partner. Coded is my most interactive work, and it is why it enables a more intimate connection with the player. When we both share feelings and thoughts, it creates a chance for intimacy. To conclude, I've

talked about four of my works and how they deal with the subject of intimacy. I try to create intimacy between the performer, technology, and the audience, and use my own body, experiences, feelings, and thoughts as material. The theater or performance art as a medium enables me to create an alone together experience. In the

theater space, every viewer reacts to the show separately, but at the same time, they're all watching it together as an audience. This live experience is a great metaphor for online communication, for it can be both lonely and very communal. Today, we are used to seeing technology as the killer of intimacy, but as our

relationship with digital devices is becoming stronger, new approaches present the advantages of media communication. As an artist, I think it's important to use technology as a tool to create intimacy, to help us see the devices we know so well in a different light as something we can use to get closer to each other.

I don't think online intimacy is better than face-to-face one, but see it as a different kind of intimacy that has its own pros and cons. My goal is to show the audience that digital performance can help us see the bigger picture, and maybe even to reconnect in a different way. Thank you.

Thank you, Maya. And now it's open to you if you have any questions. There will be someone with a microphone. Are there questions?

Did you want to say something? Are there questions? So, no? Then maybe you want to talk with her in privacy or intimacy? Then maybe she's around there and talk with you? Then now we have a 20-minute break. And then we restart in German.