Balancing in Freedom is a 70-minute one-person show written and performed by Edinburgh-based multidisciplinary artist Iddo Oberski, co-directed by Mark Kydd. It weaves together memoir, philosophy, puppetry, live music, visual art, spoken word, and magic into a single, sustained theatrical experience — one that moves between intimacy and spectacle, grief and humour, the deeply personal and the universal.
Oberski arrives on stage in a two-tone black and white suit, placing his two walking sticks into a pair of boots positioned at either side of the performance space. What follows is not a lecture, not a conventional narrative, and not a standard one-man show. It is closer to a philosophical cabaret: a live inquiry into what it means to be human, to be free, and to keep moving forward when the ground beneath you has shifted. Each performance is followed by a 30-min discussion.
Three strands run through the work. The first is Oberski's family history: most of his Amsterdam family were murdered in the Holocaust. He recounts this not through conventional storytelling but through careful, oblique disclosure — details that accumulate into something deeply affecting. The second strand is his own experience of disability. In 2009, Oberski suffered a spinal stroke that left him without conscious sensation in his lower limbs. He must deliberately will each step he takes — making him his own puppeteer. His choreography on stage reflects this: every movement considered, nothing wasted. The third strand is the philosophy of Rudolf Steiner, specifically his foundational work The Philosophy of Freedom, which proposes that genuine human freedom lies not in escaping constraint but in acting from conscious inner purpose. Steiner's ideas — particularly his understanding of how vowel sounds express the inner life of the soul — are woven throughout the performance in ways that are felt rather than explained.
These three strands are held together by Oberski's onstage companion: Svjetlana, a stick puppet who functions as philosophical sparring partner, comic sidekick, and — at key moments — the clearest voice in the room. Svjetlana's observations cut through where Oberski's own reflection cannot. In one of the production's most-quoted exchanges, she tells him: "You don't have a disability. When I found you, you had two legs and two sticks." The audience is left to sit with that.
The show also includes card magic performed with audience members — a sequence that raises genuine questions about free will and the forces, visible and invisible, that shape our choices. Oberski plays live flute at several points: entirely improvised solos that serve not as entertainment but as a form of processing, a way of moving through grief without words. There is visual art. There is film. There is poetry. None of these elements feel grafted on; each carries its own necessity.
Balancing in Freedom premiered at the SSC in Edinburgh to a sold-out audience and standing ovation, receiving four- and five-star reviews from The Herald, The Skinny, Scotsgay Arts, and The Student. Critics have called it "a visceral performance for our times," "completely spellbinding," and "profound yet somehow light-hearted."
The performance is followed by a 30-minute facilitated discussion, giving audiences space to respond, reflect, and share their own questions.
Who should come? This show is suited to anyone drawn to theatre that takes ideas seriously without becoming inaccessible — to those with an interest in Holocaust memory, disability, spiritual philosophy, or simply in performance that does not fit a standard mould. It is equally relevant for audiences with no prior knowledge of Rudolf Steiner or the Holocaust: the show works on a human level before it works on an intellectual one. Recommended for ages 14 and above. Content includes Holocaust themes and themes of serious illness and disability.
Audience members have described leaving with something that stayed with them long after the performance ended. Oberski's own summary of the show's central insight: life is a balancing act. We are always in motion, always seeking equilibrium. It is only in that seeking — not in arriving — that freedom becomes possible.
