Photograph from the series, ‘Awakening’ (2021), taken by Gustavo Hochman

Crossing Boundaries: Artist Limor Ashkenazi on disability and intimacy

Limor Ashkenazi is a disabled artist whose autobiographical photographs invite you to engage with her as a sexual person. Ilana Szobel is a scholar of women’s and Jewish studies who has studied Ashkenazi’s work on sexual expression that evolves from disability as part of her forthcoming book, The Un-Chosen Body: Disability Culture in Israel.

ILANA: Can you give some background on your journey as an artist?

LIMOR: I like to say that I am a small package of big surprises. I always found an artistic way to express and cope with my feelings. But at some point, I understood that art for me was more than therapy, and that it exposed me to more and more layers inside myself.

So since I had always wanted to be an actress, I contacted several well-known acting schools in Israel. Already in the first phone calls, when I said that I am a wheelchair user, they told me they were sorry, their place is not physically accessible, you are not suited since theater actors work so much with their bodies, and with movement. I confess that it infuriated me. I said okay, I can work a lot with my face, I can work with my voice. And they told me that they are very sorry but I am not a good match.

As I didn’t want to give up on this dream of acting I found my way to the Zulat community theater in Bat Yam, where I was welcomed into a diverse group of both disabled and able-bodied performers. I spent 14 years there but, sadly, it is now closed. When I first got there, they were looking for new material.
So I approached the director, Nira Moser, and said to her, “Nira, listen, I want us to write a play about disability and sexuality. I think it’s a subject people don’t know enough about, not disabled people themselves and not society at large.” And she liked the idea. It required daring, but I am, by my nature, an unconventional person, a woman who doesn’t fit into a mold. That’s fine. It’s the greatest gift I’ve been given.

I told Nira that at age 19 I went on a cruise with my sister, sailing to Greece and Turkey, and there I fell in love with a tall young man. I was only 19 and didn’t know anything. I was educated in a Haredi school and spent four years in Beit Rivka boarding school, where topics such as femininity, discussions about boys, and matters related to kissing were nonexistent. It was all new to me. And that’s it, really. From this experience, my first play, ‘Zulat’ (The Other), was created in 2008.

With the passing years, I began to discover myself and my sexuality. I started to touch myself, observe my body, and explore what gave me pleasure and felt good. I began to understand that I was not just a disabled person, as often perceived—someone with limitations, an object of care who needs to be washed, changed, dressed, and fed. But what about the soul? A person with a disability should not be considered just an object of physical care. There is also the soul, the human being, who is an entire universe. I always like to explore my sexuality myself, I actually like to explore everything in life. I am a very curious human being. I like crossing boundaries, not just in the area of femininity, sexuality, and disability but in art in general.

ILANA: Which brings us to your more recent art…

LIMOR: This brings me to Ariel Bronze, an amazing creator. Ariel and I were partners in creating a video clip titled “32 Inches of Queen” (2019), which, like my other photographs, explores themes of BDSM [BDSM is an erotic practices or roleplaying involving bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism.] In this clip, I played a queen and he was my submissive. I walked him around like a puppy on a leash. I really felt like a queen. This experience was boundary-breaking for me because it was the first time I appeared on stage in a bra and panties, with a catheter! I have been using a catheter for 12 years now. Seven years with a standard catheter, and for the last five years, after I had surgery, I use a catheter that is connected through my abdomen wall. In the beginning it was very hard for me to accept the catheter and I even told my caregiver, ‘Take my panties, all the thongs and lace panties and throw them out. That’s it. I am no longer sexy, I am not feminine, I have no sex life. Who will want me with a catheter?’ But at the same time, I was in a relationship with a young man, and he said to me: “Listen to me, Limor. You always get to see my tube, so now I’ll see yours.” You see, he introduced humor, and I loved that, and I hugged him, and suddenly that helped me, and made it easier.

Film still from “32 Inches of Queen” (2019), co-created with Ariel Bronze

Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” By taking the initiative, I catalyze progress, and then incredible individuals, like you, join me in advancing our shared goals. There are those who embrace my approach, who believe in exploration and growth. Ilana, your work is sacred in my eyes—your dedication to research and advocacy is truly admirable. I find joy in discovering like-minded individuals who share our mission. It’s encouraging to witness the increasing presence of artists with disabilities and the platforms supporting them. I am delighted to collaborate—it’s both fulfilling and a great fun. It’s a beginning, and drop by drop, we create a waterfall.

“I ask myself, where is the boundary?”

ILANA: I would like to dedicate a moment to discussing the central BDSM experience prevalent throughout your body of work. In various interviews, you describe BDSM in your art as an exploration of control and surrender in relation to your disability. In this sense, the wheelchair in your photos becomes a partner with which you examine the question of who controls whom. Simultaneously, your works are highly sexual, suggesting that you also aim to convey a message about the sexuality of disabled women. How do these two elements, of dominance and subjugation, as well as sexuality and disability, function in your art?

LIMOR: So how did I arrive at the world of BDSM? It began with my eager reading of 50 Shades of Gray. Something in it touched and excited me. As someone who loves to explore and break boundaries, I decided I had to try it for myself. So I attended a BDSM workshop where the instructor discussed various ties and accessories. I was open to trying them, and I discovered that I enjoyed it. It did something for me. Then I came across a call for disabled and non-disabled artists to work together. I had previously taken a beginner photography course with Gustavo Hochman, so I immediately contacted him. I told him, listen, they are looking for artists for a project, and I thought, what if we do it on BDSM? He was familiar with this world, and I explained, ‘I often feel that my disability dominates me, and other times I feel that I dominate my disability. The world of BDSM deals with dominance and submission, but it’s deeper than that. That’s why I projected it onto my relationship with my disability and my wheelchair. I wanted to create a series of photographs where I am handcuffed to my wheelchair, tied to it, or holding a whip. Gustavo brought the accessories to the studio, and I arrived with my lace underwear. During the shoot, I was covered only with fabric or used my hands to cover myself, avoiding exposing intimate parts. It was like a kind of not-naked nakedness. It was an amazing experience!

ILANA: How would you describe your creative process for the photograph series you collaborated on with Gustavo Hochman?

LIMOR: The whole idea came to me at night. I began envisioning myself in various positions. I play a significant role in staging and creating, as the idea is entirely my own. Gustavo, naturally, contributes his perspective as the photographer, offering his own ideas. Together, we crafted a series of photographs, one of which, titled ‘Awakening,’ was chosen for an exhibit in 2021. From my perspective, it was a breakthrough, the fulfillment of a dream, the realization of a fantasy.

ILANA: Can you say a little about the challenges you faced in the process of creating the series on BDSM?

LIMOR: In the studio, it was just Gustavo, the photographer, and me. I needed help with things like dressing and adjusting the catheter tube so it wouldn’t be visible in the photos. This was quite intimate, but I had no apprehensions because I trust Gustavo completely and know he is an amazing person. I relied on his help. He was thoroughly professional, handling the technical aspects like lying me down on the mattress, turning me, doing the tying, and putting on the handcuffs—whatever was needed. I directed him because the ideas were mine, and I direct all my works. However, I also allowed Gustavo, my artistic partner, space for his own creativity. Each of us brought our knowledge, skills, and experience to the project, resulting in these wonderful outcomes.

ILANA: It is not a simple matter to deal with sexuality and to expose your body and soul as you do in your art. How does your close circle respond to your works of art?

LIMOR: My mother is not accepting. She struggles with it, and I admit she hasn’t seen the photos—maybe just one. From her point of view, it’s something you don’t show to the outside world. My friends were divided; some asked, “What do you need this for?” while others were supportive. But what matters to me is fulfilling myself, staying true to who I am, seizing opportunities, and allowing myself to be seen by the world. This mission is also expressed in my lectures and in a children’s book I recently published. It permeates all aspects of my life, not just on stage or when I am performing or photographing.

Others have expressed to me that the concept behind the series “Awakening” is remarkable, praising the artistic quality and professionalism of the photos. Not a single aspect could be considered pornographic; I was careful not to expose any intimate body parts, such as my chest, which I covered with my hand or fabric. I believe that leaving something to the viewer’s imagination adds intrigue. Despite pushing boundaries, I still maintain personal limits.

What I love about my art is that every time I ask myself, “Where is the boundary?” I strive to connect with my truth and faithfully express what I want to convey. This process excites me because I often find myself in conflict with my own desires. I ask myself: “Why not? What is stopping me from crossing into new territory, from progressing to the next stage?” It’s an intriguing dynamic. I’ve noticed
that in my artistic endeavors, I find myself breaking boundaries time and time again.

“A different kind of pain”

ILANA: In my understanding there is a connection between the series “Awakening” you created with Gustavo Hochman and the series “The Woman with the Tattoo” with photographer Shai Gavrieli, not only because of the BDSM aesthetic, but also because they are both works that deal with domination over and with the body.

LIMOR: I want to talk about the matter of pain, okay? I live with pain every day, and its ever-changing nature brings physical challenges. As I contemplated my attraction to BDSM, I began to relate it to pain. While BDSM involves pain, I distinguish between different types of pain. I learned that there is pain that can be pleasurable to me.

There is a pain that can be good and pleasant, one that I choose when and how I want to feel it. In this context, I have control and freedom, and that’s one more reason I was attracted to BDSM. I understood that within me, there exists both a side that loves to be in control and a side that loves to be controlled. Even if dominated, one is not truly controlled. There is so much strength and power in this realization, perhaps especially because of my disability. Being physically dependent on another person transforms into a sense of control. It is something that gives a lot of power. Through BDSM I leave my disability for a moment, as it were, and my body actually receives a different kind of care—not medical or typical care, but care born from pleasure, giving, and enjoyment.

Film still from “32 Inches of Queen” (2019), co-created with Ariel Bronze

ILANA: You are not alone. In the U.S., there are communities of people living with chronic pain who engage in BDSM specifically to experience a different kind of pain.

LIMOR: I wasn’t aware of that. I see there are other people who understand this matter. Sometimes you feel helpless and dependent on someone else and you are as if limited, you can’t do anything, but for a moment you want to leave this place and in spite of your disability, to know that you still have the power to be in control. I can control with my voice, I can give orders. For a moment it takes you out of this space in which you feel limited. It is amazing. And this sense of empowerment extends beyond sexuality; it permeates every aspect of my life. For instance, I assert my independence in choosing what clothes to wear—I don’t delegate that decision to my caregiver; I make the choices. This autonomy is my freedom, my liberation. While I’m uncertain if it’s solely linked to my disability, perhaps it’s intertwined with my identity as an artist, integral to my soul. Regardless, it intertwines with and is influenced by my disability.

“Explore, Dare, Discover”

ILANA: What social message do you aim to convey about sexuality and disabled women through your photographs?

LIMOR: It’s essential to me that anyone who views or reads my work understands that a person with disabilities is more than just their disability. They are not defined solely by their physical, spiritual, or intellectual needs for care. They are fully human; they have dreams, aspirations, and are capable of learning and working. They can be partners, build a family, and experience love. And when it comes to sexuality, what defines “alternative” anyway? Who determines what is right or wrong, what is acceptable or not? It’s solely between me and my partner. Together, we’re discovering what I can offer and what you can bring to the relationship.

When I ask myself what I bring to a sexual connection, I understand that first of all, there is creativity here. My partner assists me physically—maneuvering me, lifting me, and facilitating closeness and pleasure. There’s also a sense of humor, a willingness to think outside the box, and a uniqueness that unfolds. Through this, a deeper connection is forged. I contribute my whole self from an emotional place of maximal giving, within the scope of my abilities. Additionally, I communicate with my partner. I express my desires openly, whether it’s requesting the use of a vibrator for penetration or asking to be tied up with rope. That is, I have an openness to say what I want, which I know many women or men don’t have. They find it hard to communicate, and sexuality is something you need to communicate about.

My partner and I communicate to find what works for both of us. This has strengthened my confidence in my femininity and my sexuality.

ILANA: Which insights, thoughts or feelings do you hope your audience will take away from your art?

LIMOR: First and foremost, I hope my audience understands that I am a complete woman, regardless of any impact from men, friends, family, or society. Selfacceptance is paramount; whether my art is embraced or opposed by my family or society matters little.

Second, we are all different from each other—it doesn’t matter if I have a physical disability or not, a mental or emotional disability, or a disability that is visible or not.

Third, be faithful to yourself. Explore. Dare. Discover. There is nothing more amazing than that. To develop. It’s true that I am not tall in centimeters, but my spirit is always growing, and that’s what’s beautiful. When people say my work is not normative, that’s one of the reasons for art—to awaken these points and give them expression. So whenever there are differences of opinions about my art, I know that I have succeeded. I create my art for myself, for my soul. It’s one of the gifts that the creator of the world gave me, and it’s important for me to give it expression. Of course, the interaction with an audience is also important to me; it’s beautiful when questions arise, opinions form, and thoughts emerge. I love the dialogue that happens with an audience.

Ilana Szobel is a professor at Brandeis University and a poet.
This interview was translated from the Hebrew by Naomi Danis.