In eastern Ukraine, a frontline theatre continues to draw crowds
Kharkiv’s Nafta Theatre is still rehearsing and staging performances — all within missile range of Ukraine’s border with Russia.
Located just 30 kilometres from the border, the independent company has remained active throughout the war. Known for physical theatre and socially engaged work, it has adapted operations to a city under constant threat.
Tetyana Holubova, part of Nafta’s core team, oversees coordination and project planning. The company includes 17 permanent staff and around 20 freelance collaborators.
“We’re still managing to keep our structure stable,” she says. “That’s what has allowed us to plan and tour again this year.”
Planning, though, remains limited.
“Some weeks, we don’t know what’s happening tomorrow,” Tetyana adds. “But we still plan — in small, flexible steps.”
Some of her former colleagues are now serving on the front lines.
“I admire those who went to fight — who gave up everything to protect Ukraine,” she says. “They’re heroes for our theatre and for me. We’re always thinking of them.”
Performing under fire
Kharkiv, Ukraine’s second-largest city, remains functional — public transport runs, shops stay open — but daily life is shaped by the constant risk of Russian attacks. Nafta rehearses in a second-floor space without a dedicated shelter. Windows are covered with blast-resistant film.
“If there’s an air raid alert, we usually keep working,” Tetyana says. “It’s constant — people treat it like background noise. But if we see confirmed launches on Telegram, we stop and go downstairs.”
Performances are held at a cultural centre of Nafta’s partner, Some People, also an EED partner, one of few public venues which is equipped with shelter facilities.
“If you want to hold events in Kharkiv, you need a venue with a shelter,” Tetyana explains. “Otherwise, interruptions are unavoidable.”
Nafta’s latest production explores the idea of gardens — as both physical spaces and symbolic reflections of care, labour, and rootedness. It also marks a move toward accessibility: the performance includes sign language interpretation, aimed at deaf and hard-of-hearing audiences.
“We hadn’t worked with accessibility before,” says Tetyana. “That started when we got institutional support from EED. It gave us the time to train, consult, and figure out what we could realistically implement.”
She explains that EED support allowed Nafta to step back from production and focus on internal development.
“We built a basic knowledge base, did trainings, spoke to experts,” Tetyana explains, “It helped us understand what steps we could take — even if small and gradual.”
That work is now shaping their public programming.
“There’s demand for accessible performances,” she says. “But cultural offerings for those communities in Kharkiv are very limited. For us, it’s a new direction — and an experiment.”
Holding together under pressure
Even with frequent attacks, Nafta continues to draw strong local audiences. In May 2024, as Russian forces renewed offensives in the region, the team debated cancelling performances or waiting for a less tense period. Instead, they played to a full house.
“People stood in the aisles,” she says. “There were no seats left. Cultural events give people something to organise their time around.”
At a recent show and fundraiser for Ukraine’s Armed Forces, the team asked how many in the audience were first-time visitors.
“Eighty per cent raised their hands. This shows people are still discovering theatre and are hungry for it.”
Alongside productions, Nafta runs educational workshops that attract a steady stream of participants — particularly younger people.
“There’s strong interest in learning formats,” Tetyana says.
Nafta’s most widely toured piece Someone Like Me is a performative-physical solo show about life during war. It was recently presented at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and has travelled across Europe.
“Internationally, that show works as cultural communication,” says Tetyana. “We don’t explain everything, but people understand enough. Touring isn’t just about showing our work. It’s about visibility. We want people to keep Kharkiv on the cultural map, and to keep supporting Ukraine. For us, theatre is also a form of cultural diplomacy.”
Strengthening the team
Like most independent theatres in Ukraine, Nafta operates without long-term funding. Its work is sustained through short-term project grants, many lasting only a few months.
“The independent theatrical sector is always in a marginal state,” Tetyana says. “There’s no steady financing, and ticket sales cannot cover everything — especially if you’re not doing mainstream work. We have people willing to volunteer, and we’ve been doing it for a while. Everyone is committed, but it’s not sustainable — it’s just what we have.”
That’s why the support from EED has been vital, as Tetyana explains.
“It let us step back and think long-term. We could focus on accessibility and strategic planning — things that are essential but usually not funded.”
This ability to work on the infrastructure behind the performances has had a lasting impact – strengthening the team’s internal culture.
“The working atmosphere — that’s our superpower,” Tetyana says, “People feel safe here. They feel supported. That’s what everyone says when I ask why they stay.”
That culture shapes the work itself.
“We always ask: who is the show for? How will it be received? Could it retraumatise someone? We don’t make shows just to make them. Theatre has to be a conversation.”
For now, Nafta continues. Rehearsals are underway, new shows are in development, and the autumn season is being prepared.
“We’re still here,” Tetyana says. “That’s the main thing.”
