The Daily Scene
Choose a mundane moment. Replay it as if it were a scene in a film.
Workshop for Potential Life
The OuViePo creative constraints
Choose a mundane moment. Replay it as if it were a scene in a film.
As many colors as possible on one plate. Photograph before eating.
Learn something you've never done before. In one day. Show the result.
Call someone just to say something kind. No reason. No preamble.
Record all the sounds your home makes in one day. Make a catalog.
Write kind messages on post-its. Stick them where people will find them.
Cook a dish from a country you know nothing about. No shortcuts.
Write a list of things you will never do. Be precise.
Translate a text into a language you don't speak. Without a dictionary.
Write about your body every day for a week. Not what you think... what you feel.
Invent a game on the spot. Play it right now. Make up the rules as you go.
Gather five objects that represent your life right now. Display them. Write the labels.
Walk out your front door. No plan. Follow what catches your eye.
Cook a meal with only what you have right now. No recipe, no shopping.
Write a real thank-you letter. On paper. By hand. Mail it.
Plan an impossible day. Try to live it anyway.
Map the sounds of your neighborhood. Walk, listen, note everything.
Play music for just one person. In person. Just for them.
Cook a dish from childhood, purely from memory. No recipe, no help.
Set a table for dinner. Beautiful plates, candles. But nobody is coming.
Carry your bag in front of you for a whole day. See what changes.
Spend an hour communicating only through gestures. No words, no writing.
Invite people you don't know to dinner. Cook for them. Talk.
Make a sign with a kind message. Hold it up in a public place. Observe.
One minute of silence. But listen to everything. Write it all down.
Replace your doorbell with a tune you hum yourself.
Grab whatever you have. Go eat outside. Right now. No planning.
One full day without any screen. From wake-up to bedtime.
Cook an entire dish blindfolded. Trust your other senses.
A meal in slow motion. One hour minimum. Each bite counts.
Write compliments for strangers. Leave them where they'll be found.
Choose a storefront. Redesign it entirely in your mind. Write it down.
Compose your personal anthem. Sing it every morning for a week.
Record yourself reading a text in someone else's voice. Not an imitation... a channeling.
Compose a meal based only on colors. Ignore taste.
Have a conversation where every answer is a question. See how long it lasts.
Cook without a recipe, with five random ingredients. No going back.
Leave a book in a public place. Slip a note inside. Wait.
Create a playlist that tells the story of your commute. In order.
Create an object that serves no purpose. Carry it with you for a week.
Every Tuesday, eat the same meal. For a month. Exactly the same.
Cook a recipe that belongs to someone else. Follow it exactly. Don't adapt anything.
Scroll through your contacts. Call someone you haven't spoken to in over a year.
Replace your ringtone with a sound you recorded yourself. Keep it for a month.
A public bench. Three hours. No phone. Just be there.
Dessert first. Starter next. Main course last. Nothing else changes.
Respond in alexandrines all day. At the supermarket checkout too.
Eyes on all round objects. Live a week with a house that watches you.
Cook with sounds as a score. Record it. It's a composition.
An entire album. In the dark. Lying down. Doing nothing else.