Making the Stage More Inclusive: All Up in Your Business with Giuliano Levato

Giuliano Levato: It came to me while I was working at the BBC. Whenever I pitched a story about a show rooted in lived experience, I was told that unless it were a ‘big show’ with a ‘big star’, it wouldn’t interest the audience. I found that deeply frustrating because I could see a huge lack of coverage in mainstream media for both theatre and artists rooted in communities.

That was seven years ago, when social media still felt like a space to connect with people, to share values, and to find your community. So I thought, ‘You know what? I’ll do it myself.’ During Refugee Week in 2018, I opened the People of Theatre Instagram page, and that’s where it all began.

GL: That challenge is at the core of what I do with People of Theatre, and it’s one I’m trying to approach in different ways. One is through the lens I use to talk about theatre—it’s not over-intellectualised, but rooted in feelings and emotions. I want people to connect to theatre through their own lives, and to see it as a way to understand both their own stories and the stories of others.

More practically, I work on accessibility by securing promo codes for a wide range of shows, so more people can experience them for much less. In terms of representation, I focus on amplifying work and artists who aren’t always given visibility in mainstream coverage—ensuring that more voices, experiences, and perspectives are seen and heard.

GL: Quality and funding. We’ve all become used to free content that’s turned around quickly—but the truth is, that often means it’s not particularly thoughtful or high-quality content. It’s just churned out to keep up with the cycle.

Independent publishing challenges that by creating space for work that’s genuinely insightful, reflective, and worth sitting with—but that kind of content takes time, care, and resources. It has to be financially supported. In short, we can’t keep expecting good content to be available for free.

GL: For the first issue, I wanted to create something that felt like a manifesto for what People of Theatre is about. So the curation was both instinctive and intentional. I looked for stories that felt urgent, personal, and rooted in lived experience, and for contributors who bring perspectives you don’t often see in mainstream theatre coverage.

I didn’t start with a strict theme, but certain things were non-negotiable: voices from underrepresented communities, work that challenges how we think about theatre, and pieces that connect the stage to wider cultural and political conversations. I also try to keep a balance—different forms, different tones, different entry points—so a reader can move from an in-depth interview to a piece of creative writing and still feel that they’re part of one coherent conversation.

GL: I had a vague idea of the feeling I wanted the magazine to have—something warm, bold, and rooted in the energy of the community—but it was quite abstract at first. It was through my conversations with Cecilia that the whole visual identity came to life. They were able to translate those feelings into colours, layouts, and textures that felt exactly right. It became a true collaboration where my initial vision was shaped, refined, and elevated through their eyes.

GL: Genuinely, I don’t have a favourite. Every piece in the issue was commissioned with heart and intention, from a deep love for theatre, dance, and performance, and with the ambition to get more of us to fall in love with them. That said, the creative horoscope has been a hit with readers—it’s been one of the most talked-about pieces since the issue came out.

GL: One of the loveliest comments has been how much people enjoy taking a break from digital content and social media and, instead, are holding something physical in their hands. So many readers have told me they love the smell of print, which has been so funny to witness when I’m out distributing the magazine in venues across London. People open it, take a deep breath, and smile. Print is such a rewarding, sensory experience—it brings a kind of joy that digital can’t replicate.

GL: I’ll be honest—the challenges are real. Public funding is being slashed, and that creates an atmosphere of fear. Producers and programmers are less willing to take risks, which means the stage narrows for new, radical, or challenging work. At the same time, streaming platforms and social media are designed to keep us at home, isolated, and endlessly scrolling. It’s a fight to remind people that live theatre offers something no algorithm can.

But then, theatre has always been an act of resistance. It’s survived wars, political crackdowns, economic collapse, and, most recently, Covid. It will survive as long as humans have stories to tell and a need to gather, to witness, and to connect in person. So the future of theatre relies on whether we dare to protect it, fund it, and make sure it belongs to everyone.

First, be clear about why you’re doing it, because that ‘why’ will be the only thing that keeps you going when it gets exhausting (and it will get exhausting). Print is slow, expensive, and labour-intensive, but that’s also what makes it so rewarding. Practically, know your budget inside out. From there: accept that most of your time will be spent on things that aren’t glamorous: chasing invoices, negotiating with printers, carrying boxes (so many boxes!) Build a support network—whether that’s collaborators, contributors, or just people who believe in your vision—because you can’t do it alone. And honestly? Don’t do it because you think it will make you money. Do it because you have something to say that you believe deserves to live on paper, and that you’re ready to fight for. That conviction will be your most valuable currency.

The next issue of People of Theatre is due out in October.