A multidisciplinary way of making

Marta Shurpakova is a multidisciplinary artist based in Gdańsk, Poland, working across illustration, textiles and ceramics.

For her, a work often begins as a simple impression, an image, a feeling, a memory, which gradually develops over time. From there, something takes shape that is not predetermined, but unfolds through making.

Working across different materials plays an important role in this. Each medium comes with its own possibilities and limitations, and it is precisely these differences that keep the work in motion. “The same image can manifest very differently depending on the material,” she explains, allowing her visual language to continuously evolve. This becomes especially visible in her use of second-hand fabrics. Because she works with existing garments and materials, she never fully knows what she will find. “The idea often emerges in dialogue with the material itself,” she says. What might feel like a limitation becomes a starting point.

 

A similar approach can be seen in her ceramics, where imperfections and technical “mistakes” are not removed, but embraced as part of the work. Sometimes these moments lead to entirely new directions, outcomes that could not have been planned in advance.

Her forms emerge intuitively and are often reduced to something essential. Rather than aiming for precision, she works from memory. “I draw things the way I remember them,” she explains. For example, instead of trying to accurately depict an animal, she draws it as it exists in her memory. As a result, her images carry a slightly naive quality, not entirely exact, but personal and recognisable.

Making, for her, is also a physical process. By working with her hands and staying in direct contact with the material, decisions are made not only in the mind, but through doing. As she describes it, the body becomes an extension of thinking.

Although her work does not tell explicit stories, there is a subtle sense of narrative present. Certain forms return, shift and develop over time, as if they belong to a world that continues to grow.

At the same time, the process does not always unfold smoothly. It moves between control and letting go,  between moments of clarity and periods of doubt. “Sometimes it feels like a rollercoaster,” she admits. It is precisely this exchange that keeps the work alive. As she reflects, these moments of uncertainty make moments of direction and clarity feel even stronger. Rather than working towards a fixed end point, her practice remains open and in motion.