C.03
Jules Verne, Vingt Mille Lieues sous les mers, Paris, J. Hetzel, 1871, p. 392.
Marc Fornes is a space writer: he writes space, not about space. Through computer code—or as Fornes says, “long, boring, written sets of instructions”—he constructs dreamlike environments that balance structural performance with a surreal experience. Fornes calls it engineering wonder.
His process is not dissimilar from that of novelists like Jules Verne, who evoke fantastical worlds through their writing. Fornes writes algorithms—or digital literature—that materialise into vibrant, ultra-light structures that challenge the boundaries of computational design and digital fabrication. His self-supporting installations are both visually stunning and efficient to build, breaking down complex geometry into as few elements as possible.
Fornes’s algorithmic writing—although technical and precise—generates tactile environments that are expressive and accessible. The structures unfold as organic, otherworldly forms: they curve, branch, split, and rejoin. Alive with colour and complexity, they invite a personal and emotional reading. Similar to Verne’s creatures, each form seems to emerge from its own realm—some evoke corals, other flowers, or patterns reminiscent of natural swarms. It all depends on the viewer.
From his Brooklyn-based studio, THEVERYMANY, Fornes has been obsessed for over a decade with a quest for essentialism: can a surface be form, structure and shelter all at once? It’s no surprise that his work, driven by the capacity of space to evoke wonder and curiosity, resonates in the worlds of public art and experiential design. With commissions from brands such as Louis Vuitton and Porsche, his work celebrates the power of design to inspire and delight.
We met Marc at his studio in Brooklyn, where we discussed how his structures invite both technical rigour and childlike wonder.
Interview by Asiel Nuñez | Edition by Juan Cantú and Candela de Bortoli | Photography by Classics Of The Future, unless otherwise specified. | Video by Tomas Orrego
MARC FORNES IN HIS STUDIO, AMONG PROTOTYPES OF HIS WORK.
THEVERYMANY STUDIO ENTRANCE
MARC FORNE’S JACKET AT THE STUDIO
Asiel Nuñez: You like to refer to your work as “engineering wonder”. Can you explain what this term means to you?
Marc Fornes: I think the phrase engineering wonder carries multiple layers. It speaks to the tension—and the balance—between technical precision and emotional experience. On the one hand, it's about the art of engineering, such as designing a bridge—a discipline grounded in performance, structure, and rigour. But on the other hand, it's also about fantasy—about creating spaces that transport you, that momentarily lift you out of reality. While our research is deeply serious, the outcome is meant to make you forget all that engineering and simply feel. It's about the moment you lose yourself, first in the environment, then in your own thoughts. So, for us, engineering wonder isn’t just a phrase; it’s a practice of crafting that sense of awe with intention and specificity.
Where does your fascination with the duality between engineering and wonder, or experience, come from?
I think it started with where I grew up, right on the border between France and Germany. I’m French, I carry a French passport, but culturally, so much around me was German—the food, the traditions, the mentality. Just across the border was the Autobahn, that stretch of highway with no speed limit. And I’ve always been fascinated by it. Because you don’t just drive on the Autobahn with any car. You need something engineered for it—something that can go fast, brake fast, respond instantly to the tiniest shift in conditions. That’s precision. That’s control.
But once you’re driving, you don’t want to think about all that. You want to just enjoy the ride. You want to lose yourself in the motion, the momentum, the thrill. And to me, that’s exactly what our work is about. In the studio, everything is about detail—the technical logic, the making, the constraints. But the end result? That should feel effortless. You shouldn't have to think about how it was made. You should just feel something.
So, in a way, our projects are like those high-performance machines—deeply engineered, but built to deliver an experience that feels fluid, emotional, even dreamy. That’s why I often mention Porsche, for example. German engineering is a great parallel to what we do: it’s extremely precise, but it exists to support a kind of escape.