She recalls one regional tour in particular: “I was the only female and these were the years when you had to share accommodation. I was being harassed constantly by one of the performers, and the other men said nothing – this is why bystanders play a big role in idk.

“One day I was driving this touring van, and we went to pick him up. The night before was not a very good night. He had pursued me in a way that made me feel traumatised. So, I drove round the corner, and he was drunk and stumbled out at us. I took one look and thought, ‘There’s no way I’m stopping this car and letting him in here.’ The other two men were yelling ‘Stop!’ but I just left him on the side of the road and drove for two hours straight. It was that snap feeling where enough is enough. That’s just one example.”

However, Micich insists that idk is not about depicting trauma, but instead aims to provoke self-reflection. She has steered clear of any graphic, triggering scenes. “For example, that scene with Gabe on the ladder is an accumulation of someone thinking out loud, an artistic rendering of thinking about our actions: ‘Was it OK?’, ‘Should I have done that?’”

Micich has a modern dance background, where the work by its nature means performers need to navigate physical boundaries.

“I’ve seen too often people getting devalued in a rehearsal room,” she says. “I don’t want to be part of that. There’s no point. I ran a youth dance company for years and thought, ‘I’m not going to yell at young people like that. I’m not going to scream at you to jump higher’.

“As an arts leader, you want to bring people with you, not push people against you. Safe space is paramount. People walk through the door and know we’re a good company, and that makes them go ‘I can’t wait to work’. People must come first, which means upskilling, listening, holding more.”

Idk uses two parallel narratives to explore how ideas of listening and holding space are a part of our daily lives. One story is about navigating physical boundaries at the start of a new intimate relationship. The other Micich describes as “magic realism, a theatrical rendering of the little touchpoints of major life events like birth and childhood, to show how we accumulate events in our bodies”.

And the giant bears? Micich was choreographing the childhood scene when her creative team went onto Facebook Marketplace. “These giant Costco bears were apparently a thing,” she grins. “And everyone was getting rid of them for 30 bucks. So, we actually bought four. The bear represents things that never change, how generations pass on trauma or teach behaviours.”

One bear has been converted into a human-sized suit, while another has a “BearCam” installed in its snout. “The bear is actually really cute, and we’ve made it scary too, and very funny. There’s even a little bear opera in the piece,” Micich says.

Idk is at Carriageworks, Sydney, from August 23 to 26; and Arts House, Melbourne, from August 30 to September 2.

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