"Serious play" and "visibility through form" are the two concepts around which the "Strength of Form" project develops. The former describes a way of thinking through action—a process in which experimentation becomes a form of cognition. The latter concerns the visibility of women, which is revealed through form.
"Forse of Form" is a project about female visibility—reclaiming space and the ways in which form can speak beyond words. It is a reflection on presence and a process in which play and precision meet in a rhythm that reveals female strength, language, and ways of seeing.
Below are two visual documentations of the project.
Photography: Beata Wencławek
Sound recording: Andrzej Mikosz
Questions asked by: Radek Dziubek
Concept, production, editing, voice: Maria Maria Madej
Music: Yotam Agam – Naos
Sound recording: Andrzej Mikosz
Questions asked by: Radek Dziubek
Concept, production, editing, voice: Maria Maria Madej
Music: Yotam Agam – Naos
Force of Form — a record of the process with my comment.
Slideshow of photographs by Beata Wencławek.
Slideshow of photographs by Beata Wencławek.
Force of Form — opening the book. A demonstration of the pop-up mechanism with my commentary.
project questions included in the videos
Who am I?
My name is Marta Maria Madej. I am a communication designer and paper engineer. I work with the construction of spatial forms and the relationship between object and viewer. The Power of Form is a pop-up book about forty-one Polish women artists, in which I translate their work into the language of movement and matter. The book itself is a form – it opens up, operates in space, and provokes questions through its construction. I am interested in how structure becomes a tool of analysis and how material thinking translates into communication and meaning.
Where did the decision to connect pop-up with the history of Polish women artists come from?
I wanted to work with the pop-up form, and interpreting the artists' work seemed like an interesting challenge. It was a way to explore how a spatial structure can reflect the nature of their work – through movement, rhythm, and something "in between."
What does the moment when the page begins to move mean to you?
It's a moment of transition – when the image becomes form, and form becomes experience. When the form begins to move, meaning it is working, I move on to the next task. How do you deal with the tension between control and chance?
In a pop-up, you can't predict everything. Paper reacts in its own way. Instead of fighting it, I observe. Sometimes what seems like a mistake becomes a solution.
How important is the viewer's role in bringing a book to life?
Crucial. A pop-up only works when someone opens it. It's a medium that compels a gesture. The viewer becomes part of the structure—their movement completes the composition. It's a moment of co-presence.
What did you discover about paper that you hadn't seen before?
It's hard to call it a discovery, more like a shift. I saw that paper can be a partner in the work—it reacts, suggests, sometimes resists. This material submits to me, but thanks to its properties, it also co-authors the form.
Is this arrangement a system, a narrative, or a conversation between forms?
It's more of a system of interdependencies than a conversation. Each artist has her own rhythm and logic, and the structure integrates them into a single structure. It doesn't create a narrative, but a space for coexistence. In this case, it's a group of artists I've chosen emotionally, not systematically.
What emotion do you want to leave in the person who opens this book for the first time?
I don't know what emotion, and I think that's precisely the point. I don't want to impose it – form should trigger a response, not define it.
What does "the power of form" mean to you today?
It's mindfulness – it gives awareness and strength. Form in this project is both literal and metaphorical, referring to ways of thinking and acting. She is a woman in my understanding of femininity: flexible, attentive, precise, sensitive, consistent, complex, and multitasking. She defies a single definition.
Your work evokes associations with composition and rhythm. Do you see it in the context of music?
Music that fits here should emphasize an orderly composition and evoke a mathematical approach to structure, while simultaneously harmonizing with the raw delicacy of paper. I think it could be minimal rock or the classics of some minimalists from the second half of the 20th century.
What is the importance of typography in the project?
I introduce controlled chaos in the project. I use dozens of typefaces to write the artists' names. The typography in this project is more of a construct. The letter is no longer just a carrier of information—its power, mood, and geometry change. An explanation of why I only use names can be found in the book.
Playing with form has an educational dimension. How important is the message itself?
I'm not interested in education in the didactic sense. I'm more interested in the moment when the logic of form itself becomes the message. I want the viewer to have the chance to make mistakes, discover something, assemble and disassemble it in their own way. My project is intended to be a haptic and constructive experience, not a linear instruction manual. I want the viewer to have freedom of interpretation and decide for themselves whether they want to "dig around," compare, and search for answers, or take a different path.
Why was the "power of form" demonstrated in such a fragile material as paper?
The choice of paper is not accidental. It's a liminal material. It operates at the intersection of precision and decay. I'm interested in this physical tension—the moment when the form is still solid, but the material is already yielding. The "strength of form" lies not in monumentality, but in its permanence in fragility. Paper demands absolute attention. Every fold, cut, or excess air has immediate consequences.
In a pop-up, you can't predict everything. Paper reacts in its own way. Instead of fighting it, I observe. Sometimes what seems like a mistake becomes a solution.
How important is the viewer's role in bringing a book to life?
Crucial. A pop-up only works when someone opens it. It's a medium that compels a gesture. The viewer becomes part of the structure—their movement completes the composition. It's a moment of co-presence.
What did you discover about paper that you hadn't seen before?
It's hard to call it a discovery, more like a shift. I saw that paper can be a partner in the work—it reacts, suggests, sometimes resists. This material submits to me, but thanks to its properties, it also co-authors the form.
Is this arrangement a system, a narrative, or a conversation between forms?
It's more of a system of interdependencies than a conversation. Each artist has her own rhythm and logic, and the structure integrates them into a single structure. It doesn't create a narrative, but a space for coexistence. In this case, it's a group of artists I've chosen emotionally, not systematically.
What emotion do you want to leave in the person who opens this book for the first time?
I don't know what emotion, and I think that's precisely the point. I don't want to impose it – form should trigger a response, not define it.
What does "the power of form" mean to you today?
It's mindfulness – it gives awareness and strength. Form in this project is both literal and metaphorical, referring to ways of thinking and acting. She is a woman in my understanding of femininity: flexible, attentive, precise, sensitive, consistent, complex, and multitasking. She defies a single definition.
Your work evokes associations with composition and rhythm. Do you see it in the context of music?
Music that fits here should emphasize an orderly composition and evoke a mathematical approach to structure, while simultaneously harmonizing with the raw delicacy of paper. I think it could be minimal rock or the classics of some minimalists from the second half of the 20th century.
What is the importance of typography in the project?
I introduce controlled chaos in the project. I use dozens of typefaces to write the artists' names. The typography in this project is more of a construct. The letter is no longer just a carrier of information—its power, mood, and geometry change. An explanation of why I only use names can be found in the book.
Playing with form has an educational dimension. How important is the message itself?
I'm not interested in education in the didactic sense. I'm more interested in the moment when the logic of form itself becomes the message. I want the viewer to have the chance to make mistakes, discover something, assemble and disassemble it in their own way. My project is intended to be a haptic and constructive experience, not a linear instruction manual. I want the viewer to have freedom of interpretation and decide for themselves whether they want to "dig around," compare, and search for answers, or take a different path.
Why was the "power of form" demonstrated in such a fragile material as paper?
The choice of paper is not accidental. It's a liminal material. It operates at the intersection of precision and decay. I'm interested in this physical tension—the moment when the form is still solid, but the material is already yielding. The "strength of form" lies not in monumentality, but in its permanence in fragility. Paper demands absolute attention. Every fold, cut, or excess air has immediate consequences.