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Time of India
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Do you love spacing out? Here's a competition that rewards people for doing absolutely nothing
Credit: Getty Images Do you ever just sit... and stare? Not on your phone. Not while a podcast hums in the background. Just… sit. Breathe. Let the world pass by, and do absolutely nothing . It sounds ridiculous. But the truth is, it's a concept that different cultures have long recognized, and even cherished, enough to give it a name. The Dutch call it Niksen - the art of intentionally doing nothing, free of guilt or purpose. Italians wax poetic about dolce far niente - the sweet pleasure of idleness. In Taoist philosophy, there's wu wei - a way of moving through life by not forcing things, by letting go and letting be. None of these are calls to laziness. If anything, they're reminders that a pause is necessary and frankly speaking, the need of the hour. Ours is an era defined by constant pings, endless feeds, and this unrelenting worship of productivity, even stillness has become performative. We 'relax' by watching five episodes straight. We 'rest' by doomscrolling. Actual idleness, no screen, no sound, no stimulation, is so unfamiliar that it now comes with rules, a venue, and… prizes. Yes, there's now a competition for doing absolutely nothing. It's called the Space Out Competition, and yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. A group of people gathering in public, not to run, or speak, or outperform each other, but to sit silently for 90 minutes, eyes open, phones away, doing nothing but existing. The event was dreamed up in Seoul in 2014 by Korean artist Woopsyang. She had grown exhausted by the pressure to be 'on' all the time, always busy, always creating, always available. So she flipped the script. What if zoning out could be an art form? What if not doing was a kind of performance? Since then, the competition has popped up in cities around the world, held in open spaces with curious onlookers walking by, unsure if they're witnessing a meditation session or modern protest. Before the competition begins, participants are asked to stretch a little for 90 minutes of absolute stillness. No speaking. No sudden movements. No falling asleep. No humming, snacking, texting, fidgeting, or even smiling too much. A doctor checks heart rates every 15 minutes. Anyone who breaks the spell, a laugh, a glance at the phone, a sip from an unsanctioned bottle, is quietly escorted out. And the winner? It's not the one who sits the longest, but the one who spaces out best. The scoring system is part artistic, part physiological. Ten finalists are chosen based on audience votes, likely for their expressions, their stillness, or their backstory. Then their heart rates are compared. The person with the most stable heartbeat is crowned the champion of doing nothing. The top prize is a gold-painted trophy shaped like Rodin's The Thinker , a certificate, a badge, and an invitation to the next international round. But really, the reward might just be the permission to stop.
The Guardian
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Experience: I am the world champion of ‘doing nothing'
From an early age I worried if I was doing enough. Growing up in Hong Kong, a city where competition is keen, I wanted to do well. That brought a lot of anxiety. I started to practise mindfulness in 2012. It helps a lot with my emotions, and I can think more clearly. As an educational psychologist, I see lots of mental health issues. I think bringing mindfulness into our schools is an important way to find moments of calm, especially in the fast-paced city of Hong Kong. That's what drew me to the Space‑Out competition – a contest about doing nothing. I saw it advertised on social media last year. The founder, Korean artist Woopsyang, has said that there's a lot of societal pressure to always be productive, so it's important to appreciate downtime. Woopsyang started the Space-Out competition in Seoul in 2014. It was a performance-art piece that involved people competing to effectively do nothing and 'space out' for 90 minutes. There have since been competitions all over the world, held several times a year. I entered one in Hong Kong last October. It was a hot afternoon and the event was held in an open space inside a busy mall in the centre of the city. There were many spectators chit-chatting. About 100 people took part, each sitting on a yoga mat that had been laid out neatly on the square. We were guided through a series of stretches before we settled down for the 90 minutes. You have to sit there without any significant movement; you cannot sleep, make any noise or check your phone. After the time is up, the final 10 participants are voted for by the spectators, likely based on our statements about why we joined the competition, and our expressions over the 90 minutes. The finalists' heart rates are measured throughout – the one with the steadiest is the winner. Every 15 minutes or so the judges come to measure your heart rate. These approaches make you nervous. I could feel my heart beating faster, but I tried to see it as a way to practise acceptance – to notice those feelings of tenseness, and try not to force myself to relax. We all have wandering minds – my thoughts jumped from my family, to the sound of the wind in the trees, to the fan humming around us. But you just take note of them. You observe it, like seeing the clouds up in the sky and how they come and go. I paid attention to my breath, to the feelings in my body, and my thoughts and emotions. I focused on the sensation of the breeze across my skin, noticing subtle changes in the environment and how they affected my body. Though it was a 'space out' competition, I was doing the opposite: actively practising mindfulness, observing my mind and my breath. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion After about 30 minutes, I remembered we were being judged by the spectators, so I tried to imagine what being spaced out would look like. I dropped my glasses down my nose and sat like that for the next hour. When they announced the competition was over, I wanted to sit for longer. I have a busy life – alongside my job, I am studying, and have two kids, aged 11 and nine – so having this space was a luxury, especially in this world where our minds are stimulated all day long. Often we can get through a day and our mind might not have settled for even a second. I was surprised when I was announced as the winner. I understand that, for many people, sitting in silence for 90 minutes would be a nightmare, but I found it very enjoyable. I think it's vital to take time to come back to ourselves. In many parts of the world, people live day in, day out, never stopping – it's as if stopping is a kind of laziness. Although the event was just for 90 minutes, it gave us a way to just be ourselves, and I hope it reminds people that productivity isn't always the most important thing. The trophy I won is based on Rodin's The Thinker statue. It sits in my living room, and I see it as a reminder that we should all spare at least a few minutes a day to allow ourselves to do the things that nourish us, or just to have the space to do nothing. That is a gift. As told to Naomi Larsson Piñeda Do you have an experience to share? Email experience@
The Guardian
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Experience: I am the world champion of ‘doing nothing'
From an early age I worried if I was doing enough. Growing up in Hong Kong, a city where competition is keen, I wanted to do well. That brought a lot of anxiety. I started to practise mindfulness in 2012. It helps a lot with my emotions, and I can think more clearly. As an educational psychologist, I see lots of mental health issues. I think bringing mindfulness into our schools is an important way to find moments of calm, especially in the fast-paced city of Hong Kong. That's what drew me to the Space‑Out competition – a contest about doing nothing. I saw it advertised on social media last year. The founder, Korean artist Woopsyang, has said that there's a lot of societal pressure to always be productive, so it's important to appreciate downtime. Woopsyang started the Space-Out competition in Seoul in 2014. It was a performance-art piece that involved people competing to effectively do nothing and 'space out' for 90 minutes. There have since been competitions all over the world, held several times a year. I entered one in Hong Kong last October. It was a hot afternoon and the event was held in an open space inside a busy mall in the centre of the city. There were many spectators chit-chatting. About 100 people took part, each sitting on a yoga mat that had been laid out neatly on the square. We were guided through a series of stretches before we settled down for the 90 minutes. You have to sit there without any significant movement; you cannot sleep, make any noise or check your phone. After the time is up, the final 10 participants are voted for by the spectators, likely based on our statements about why we joined the competition, and our expressions over the 90 minutes. The finalists' heart rates are measured throughout – the one with the steadiest is the winner. Every 15 minutes or so the judges come to measure your heart rate. These approaches make you nervous. I could feel my heart beating faster, but I tried to see it as a way to practise acceptance – to notice those feelings of tenseness, and try not to force myself to relax. We all have wandering minds – my thoughts jumped from my family, to the sound of the wind in the trees, to the fan humming around us. But you just take note of them. You observe it, like seeing the clouds up in the sky and how they come and go. I paid attention to my breath, to the feelings in my body, and my thoughts and emotions. I focused on the sensation of the breeze across my skin, noticing subtle changes in the environment and how they affected my body. Though it was a 'space out' competition, I was doing the opposite: actively practising mindfulness, observing my mind and my breath. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion After about 30 minutes, I remembered we were being judged by the spectators, so I tried to imagine what being spaced out would look like. I dropped my glasses down my nose and sat like that for the next hour. When they announced the competition was over, I wanted to sit for longer. I have a busy life – alongside my job, I am studying, and have two kids, aged 11 and nine – so having this space was a luxury, especially in this world where our minds are stimulated all day long. Often we can get through a day and our mind might not have settled for even a second. I was surprised when I was announced as the winner. I understand that, for many people, sitting in silence for 90 minutes would be a nightmare, but I found it very enjoyable. I think it's vital to take time to come back to ourselves. In many parts of the world, people live day in, day out, never stopping – it's as if stopping is a kind of laziness. Although the event was just for 90 minutes, it gave us a way to just be ourselves, and I hope it reminds people that productivity isn't always the most important thing. The trophy I won is based on Rodin's The Thinker statue. It sits in my living room, and I see it as a reminder that we should all spare at least a few minutes a day to allow ourselves to do the things that nourish us, or just to have the space to do nothing. That is a gift. As told to Naomi Larsson Piñeda Do you have an experience to share? Email experience@
Yahoo
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Entering the Space-out competition: I tried to be the best at doing nothing – but my opponent had a secret weapon
I am someone who finds it extraordinarily difficult to sit still or be quiet. On one family road trip, my mother challenged me not to speak for 20 minutes, with a prize of $100 for my efforts. I lasted approximately 30 seconds. My ADHD diagnosis at 32 was the natural progression of my life. The Space-out competition, held in Melbourne on Monday, was the ultimate test of whether I could fight my own nature and embrace nothingness. Created by South Korean artist Woopsyang as a response to her own experience of burnout, the competition has been running for more than a decade around the world with a simple proposition: a mini-city of competitors, all dressed as their jobs, sit in a public space doing absolutely nothing for 90 minutes. Related: 'A diagnosis can sweep away guilt': the delicate art of treating ADHD Laughing, chatting, using technology or falling asleep results in disqualification – 'lifeguards' patrol around monitoring everyone's activity, or lack thereof. A large yellow card is a warning, and a red one is a disqualification. Participants can raise smaller coloured cards to ask for warmth, water, a massage or to exit the competition. Every 15 minutes 'doctors' measure participants' heart rates. The watching crowds vote on their favourite competitor, which, when combined with the heart rate measurement, determines the overall I am a self-respecting journalist, my outfit is a fedora adorned with a card reading PRESS. My competitors include an actual dog, an elderly man (who turns out to be the oldest-ever participant in the competition), a woman sitting in a tub with a functioning fountain on her head, a Teletubby, a chef (with a Ratatouille toy on their head) and a bunch of young kids. We're all invited to write our reasons for participating on a board the public can read and vote on. The answers range from earnest to silly. 'To calm my nervous system,' one reads. 'I'm extremely unemployed,' reads another. Woopsyang comes to the stage, wearing the traditional male Korean ceremonial garb, including the wide-brimmed gat, and makes a speech via an unfurling ribbon. 'Sometimes doing nothing can be the most powerful and valuable act,' it reads. We participate in stretching and aerobic exercises before sitting on our mats. The timer begins. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my partner taking photos of me, but I try to ignore him and focus on a fixed point in front of me. I try not to move. I'm desperate to get up, to shake my limbs, but I keep sitting. My mind is not blank, but I try to engage the meditation techniques my Buddhist mother taught me. I can hear comedian commentators Harry Jun and Oliver Coleman telling the crowd that the young boys left the competition 20 minutes in, that warnings have already begun to be handed out, that someone's ice-cream has melted. I want to look around, but I can't. I can hear the public around me. I feel like an animal in a zoo. The only marker of time is when a doctor approaches to measure my heart rate; I'm surprised to find the 15-minute increments feel shorter every time. Each time a doctor comes over, I know I'm closer to my goal – and my heart rate is steadily decreasing. I'm in the zone, baby. I raise my blue card once to ask for water, and my yellow one once for warmth, which turns out to be a small sock with a heat bag in it (not useful!). But after a while, doing nothing becomes quite pleasant. My mind is still not quite blank but I enter a liminal state. The sound of the crowd has become white noise. When the final whistle is blown, I'm shocked that it has been an hour and a half. I could happily have sat and done nothing for much longer. Alas, I do not place – the fountain lady, who admits that the trickling water in her costume was designed to make her fellow contestants need to pee, is declared the winner. I find out later via Instagram that she has been working on the costume for months, unlike mine, which I made in about two minutes. She deserves the win. But winning is kind of beside the point of the Space-out competition. I proudly tell my family that I managed to sit still and be quiet for 90 minutes straight in public. I won't get $100 from my mum for this but I finally won the bet, after all.
The Guardian
10-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Entering the Space-out competition: I tried to be the best at doing nothing – but my opponent had a secret weapon
I am someone who finds it extraordinarily difficult to sit still or be quiet. On one family road trip, my mother challenged me not to speak for 20 minutes, with a prize of $100 for my efforts. I lasted approximately 30 seconds. My ADHD diagnosis at 32 was the natural progression of my life. The Space-out competition, held in Melbourne on Monday, was the ultimate test of whether I could fight my own nature and embrace nothingness. Created by South Korean artist Woopsyang as a response to her own experience of burnout, the competition has been running for more than a decade around the world with a simple proposition: a mini-city of competitors, all dressed as their jobs, sit in a public space doing absolutely nothing for 90 minutes. Laughing, chatting, using technology or falling asleep results in disqualification – 'lifeguards' patrol around monitoring everyone's activity, or lack thereof. A large yellow card is a warning, and a red one is a disqualification. Participants can raise smaller coloured cards to ask for warmth, water, a massage or to exit the competition. Every 15 minutes, 'doctors' measure participants' heart rates. The watching crowds vote on their favourite competitor, which, when combined with the heart rate measurement, determines the overall winner. Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning Because I am a self-respecting journalist, my outfit is a fedora adorned with a card reading PRESS. My competitors include an actual dog, an elderly man (who turns out to be the oldest-ever participant in the competition), a woman sitting in a tub with a functioning fountain on her head, a Teletubby, a chef (with a Ratatouille toy on their head) and a bunch of young kids. We're all invited to write our reasons for participating on a board the public can read and vote on. The answers range from earnest to silly. 'To calm my nervous system,' one reads. 'I'm extremely unemployed,' reads another. Woopsyang comes to the stage, wearing the traditional male Korean ceremonial garb, including the wide-brimmed gat, and makes a speech via an unfurling ribbon. 'Sometimes doing nothing can be the most powerful and valuable act,' it reads. We participate in stretching and aerobic exercises before sitting on our mats. The timer begins. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my partner taking photos of me, but I try to ignore him and focus on a fixed point in front of me. I try not to move. I'm desperate to get up, to shake my limbs, but I keep sitting. My mind is not blank, but I try to engage the meditation techniques my Buddhist mother taught me. I can hear comedian commentators Harry Jun and Oliver Coleman telling the crowd that the young boys left the competition 20 minutes in, that warnings have already begun to be handed out, that someone's ice-cream has melted. I want to look around, but I can't. I can hear the public around me. I feel like an animal in a zoo. The only marker of time is when a doctor approaches to measure my heart rate; I'm surprised to find the 15-minute increments feel shorter every time. Each time a doctor comes over, I know I'm closer to my goal – and my heart rate is steadily decreasing. I'm in the zone, baby. I raise my blue card once to ask for water, and my yellow one once for warmth, which turns out to be a small sock with a heat bag in it (not useful!). But after a while, doing nothing becomes quite pleasant. My mind is still not quite blank but I enter a liminal state. The sound of the crowd has become white noise. When the final whistle is blown, I'm shocked that it has been an hour and a half. I could happily have sat and done nothing for much longer. Alas, I do not place – the fountain lady, who admits that the trickling water in her costume was designed to make her fellow contestants need to pee, is declared the winner. I find out later via Instagram that she's been working on the costume for months, unlike mine, which I made in about two minutes. She deserves the win. But winning is kind of beside the point of the Space-out competition. I proudly tell my family that I managed to sit still and be quiet for 90 minutes straight in public. I won't get $100 from my mum for this but I finally won the bet, after all.
