What’s on your imagined menu for 2056?

Café Futuresque grew out of real research. The menus are built from what people across different contexts have imagined we might eat in 30 or 100 years. What started as a research output became an experiential format: a pop-up café where the menu itself is the centre, inviting visitors to sit with the questions that future of food research keeps raising. Where are we now, where are we heading, and how do we actually feel about it?

The menu includes “Not Your Grandma’s Salad”: lab-grown vegan chicken, kale, algae crisps, and carbon-negative dressing. The “Soil-to-Sip Smoothie” blends regenerative greens, adaptogenic fungi, and nano-hydrated chia. And for the nostalgic among us, the “Plastic-Wrapped Candy Bar,” listed as a Forbidden Relic.

A little weird for some? Absolutely. That’s rather the point.

It wasn’t surprising that many came into the pilot workshop at BIOTOPE FESTIVAL worried about the future of food. But it was interesting what happened next.

73% of participants thought we would see menus like this in restaurants or cafés within 20 years, and almost 50% within the next 10, well within most of our lifetimes.

The highest-rated emotion during the experience was “uncomfortable.” The second was “empowered.” Just under half said they wouldn’t be comfortable eating from the menu. The reasons: it’s “too artificial,” it “has no gustatory pleasure,” or it “will kill a lot of work.” The participants who said they would be comfortable? “We will have to adapt,” or simply curious to try.

And yet, afterwards 80% felt their own choices help shape food futures. Many who came in worried stayed worried (concern about prices, taste, and what we might lose didn’t go away), but discomfort and agency turned out not to be in conflict. If anything, sitting with an uncomfortable future seemed to activate people rather than shut them down.


That showed up in the written responses too. Inspired actions ranged from “going to buy vegetables from the next Sunday market” to “growing my own garden” and “making more thoughtful choices.” Specific, grounded, personal.

Finally, more than half said the brief experience shifted how they feel about the future of food, at least to some extent. The most chosen reason? It made the future feel closer and more real. We often relate to the further-away futures outside our personal horizons as something distant, to be decided later, by systems larger than us. What we need are ways to bring these futures into the present imagination, creating spaces that encourage sitting with the uncertainty, until Sunday’s grocery run can start to feel like part of the answer.

We’re continuing to develop the format and would love to hear what these findings bring up for you. What’s on your imagined menu for 2056?

Café Futuresque is part of our work supported by the Fondation APRIL.

Workshop at Institut Transitions  

What does the future look like when you’re in the middle of changing yours?

We were recently invited by Nicolas Fieulaine to run Images of the Future workshop with 36 participants of the Nouvelles Voies program at Institut Transitions. A year-long program reorienting careers toward ecological & social transition. People in the room were already doing something quite difficult: letting go of one way of working and building toward another.

We started where we always start, with two questions. What does your personal future look like? What does the global future look like?

The gap between the two answers was striking.

Personal future:

optimism 20 · enthusiasm 20 · calm 12 · uncertain 30 · anxious 10 · helpless 7 · indifferent 3

Global future:

uncertain 36 · anxious 31 · helpless 20 · calm 6 · optimism 5 · indifferent 1 · enthusiasm 0

The personal futures were full of texture. People drew trees, cabins in the mountains, birds. They wrote: nature, liberté, introspection, bonheur, paix intérieure. Family, children, time for activities they love, a work that inspires and motivates. Someone imagined white hair. Someone wrote “flou, mais c’est ok” (blurry, but that’s okay). Someone else: “incertitude mais stabilisant, un arbre qui prend ses racines” (uncertainty, but stabilizing, a tree taking root). The futures were modest in scale, sensory, relational. Uncertain, yes. But in a way that still left room for agency.

The global board was something else entirely. Crises, effondrement, guerres, sécheresse, conflits, en feu. Extermination du vivant. Someone wrote “ça sent le sapin” (it smells like a coffin). “Aïe aïe aïe.” One note said “nuancé, plus éclairé, mais pas suffisamment” (more nuanced, more aware, but not enough). Résilience appeared once. Enthusiasm: zero.

One participant put it directly: I have a hold on my personal future, but not on the global one. Which is a shared experience, not a failure of imagination. It’s a real psychological distinction. The personal future is where agency lives. The global future is where it goes quiet.

What held across both boards: nature as anchor. Trees, birds, forests, mountains appeared everywhere, on the personal side as where people locate safety and meaning, on the global side as what’s threatened. And connection as resource: family, children, intergenerational links, geographic and affective bonds. These are what make futures livable. Relational grounding, something shared.

What made this group particular was the context. These people were already choosing to act, already retraining, already building something new in the direction of transition. And still the gap held.

We see this tension across very different rooms, across countries. In Denmark and the United States, around 75% of participants describe the global future in predominantly negative terms. In China and India, roughly 65% describe it positively, shaped by different information flows, different meaning-making structures, and a more circular relationship with time..

We also talked about how time horizons have been shrinking since the pandemic. Before 2020, participants typically imagined personal futures 15 to 30 years out. Now it’s five years at most. Large collective events don’t just change how we feel about the future. They also change how far into it we can look.

Something new came up in this workshop. One participant said he couldn’t distinguish between his personal and global future, he experiences them as one and the same. We heard this for the first time a few months ago at Sciences Po. It’s making us think again about the concept of Balanced Time Perspective and deepens the direction of our research..

The workshop was facilitated by Anna Sircova, with Mariam and Galina Zhukova assisting. Thank you to Nicolas Fieulaine and Institut Transitions for the invitation, and to everyone in the room for bringing such openness to the questions.

If you’d like to bring Images of the Future workshop to your organisation, training program, or team, don’t hesitate to reach out!

Exploring future scenarios at Sciences Po Lyon

In February, Creative Time Lab was invited by Nicolas Fieulaine to facilitate two workshops for students at Sciences Po Lyon. Together we explored the images of the personal and global futures and five future scenarios. It was a day of mind-bending creative work for everyone involved!

Through creative exercises and research tools, students reflected on both their personal future and the global future, revealing a striking contrast that we have repeatedly seen in our research.

When imagining the personal future students felt a blend of:
enthusiasm (25%) and optimism (16.5%),
balanced by some anxiety (20%) and uncertainty (21.5%).

Importantly, they framed it as something they have power and agency over.
The visuals were relatable: a creative career with challenges, but also the freedom to travel and take a nap on a beach.

The global future, however, looked very different. It was described as:
🔥 anxious (36%)
🌫 uncertain (25%)
⚠️ powerless (33%)
with barely any optimism (3%)
and definitely not calm.

The images were often stark: a planet on fire, environmental disaster, explosions, and deep social division.


None of this was surprising. But what did resonate—and what we must pay attention to—is that no one feels indifferent.

Amidst the imagined chaos, urgent questions emerged:
Why do we separate our personal future from the global future when they are, in fact, one and the same?

And while there is fear and deep sadness in imagining what we stand to lose, a stronger emotion began to surface: Anger.

We have been running these workshops since 2019. It is for the first time that we witness anger being so present in the room.

What do you think has changed in the emotional landscape?
Do you also notice anger appearing more often in conversations about the future?
What emotions come up for you when you imagine the global future today?

👇 Share your thoughts below.

It’s Complicated: Futurization, March 17

What is your relationship with the future, and how is it affecting you right now?

Join Creative Time Lab founder Anna Sircova on March 17 for a deep, live conversation with Johanne Schwensen from It’s Complicated. They’ll explore futurization—a concept that goes beyond simple future-thinking to examine how our images of tomorrow shape our mental health and actions today.

They’ll be tackling questions like:
🤔 How does “futurization” differ from just “thinking about the future”?
🌍 If someone has an apocalyptic view of the global future, how does that show up in their daily mental health?
✨ How can we use imagination not as escapism, but as a real tool for resilience?

Anna brings her unique perspective as a psychologist, researcher, and visual artist to discuss these and other questions.

📅 When: Tuesday, March 17 | 12:00 PM – 01:00 PM CET
📍 Where: Live stream
🔗 RSVP here: https://lnkd.in/dEuu2Bev

Come and futurize with us!

Some insights from the data we collected with our immersive installation last summer…



To set the stage, here’s something to ponder about. Imagine walking into the Space of Futurization asking yourself: “What is the colour of the future?” and “What is the weather of the future?

Our results show a fascinating conflict:


🎨 Colour palette:
Cool blues.
Fresh greens.
Elegant greys.
Very Scandinavian. Very calm. Very “we’ve got this.”


☀️ Weather forecast:
🔥🔥🔥 EXTREME HEAT 🔥🔥🔥
(55% of responses. No shade. Literally.)

So on one hand, we imagine the future looking like a peaceful design mood board powered by optimism.
On the other hand, it feels like standing barefoot on asphalt in August and the anxiety rises…

To summarize:
We see a future that’s aesthetically aligned for maximum calm and growth… while physiologically preparing for the ultimate hot yoga session.

This raises a few questions:
– Can we hold on to calm while anticipating disruption?
– Are we optimistic aesthetes who are also pragmatic realists?
– Are we holding onto the hope that rising temperatures won’t erase the natural world’s colour palette?
– Or are we just hoping our future solar-powered indoor air-con units look really nice in mint green?

Or maybe our imagination is already air-conditioned, while our emotions are not.
And maybe the real question is whether this coexistence of calm and anxiety is sustainable…

Or, to put it more bluntly:
Are we determined that if we’ll soon be walking on hot coals, we might as well look chic while doing so?

💬 If you had to explain this contrast in one sentence, what would you say?
💬 What is the colour palette—or the weather—of your future?

Why Creative Time Lab?

The name grew out of a long journey.

Back in 2015 I founded Creative Time Studio — a space where psychology of time met creativity. It was a small experiment born from an idea: that how we use and experience time deeply shapes our lives, our joy, and our ability to change.

The Studio was about saying “yes” to making and creating time — to using creativity as a resource, to shaping moments for discovery, play, and meaning. It was also about my own search: how to bring together years of research on time perspective and my passion for cross-disciplinary approaches with my love for the arts, storytelling, imagination and other creative endeavours.

Over time, this search expanded. I realized that what we needed next was not only a ‘studio’ — a place to create — but also a ‘lab’ — a place to explore, test, and collaborate.

And so, Creative Time Lab was born.

Here, we bring art and science together to create safe spaces where people can reconnect with imagination, curiosity, and a sense of the future. Our flagship project, The Space of Futurization, grew from our research discoveries that there are multiple futures and hope to create conditions for meaningful actions to emerge, to transform future-related anxiety into collective imagination and agency.

In a way, Creative Time Lab continues what the Studio started: a dream space for experimenting with time, creativity, and human connection. It’s a space for joy, reflection, collective imagination and shared meaning.

— Dr. Anna Sircova
Founder, Creative Time Lab

Creative Time Lab: Shaping Tomorrow’s Resilience

We are a France-based non-profit association dedicated to exploring how our relationship with time — and especially the future — shapes mental health, creativity, and social transformation.

At Creative Time Lab, we are searching for ways to help people look into the future without the freezing anxiety. By merging science and art, we create spaces for dialogue, emotional resilience, and collective imagination — because the future begins in how we think, feel, and act right now.

Our flagship project, The Space of Futurization, is an immersive installation that transforms psychological research into shared, sensory experiences. It invites participants to explore their hopes and fears about the future, fostering reflection, connection, and agency.

Follow us to discover how psychology, art, and design can come together to shape a more resilient and imaginative relationship with the future.