Adventures in Paper: Stairs, Mountains, and More

This time around let's take a look at kirigami, which translates literally into "cut paper". There are many styles of kirigami, but my favorite, and the one I've spent the most time practicing is all about having the paper folded at 90 degree angles. It creates a three dimensional effect that I think is pretty cool. Here is the first design I learned.

So with just a few cuts of the paper and a few inverted folds you can create the illusion of depth and volume. The illusion only works at 90 degrees, however. It closes up like pop-up book, or it would flatten out if you opened it all the way. Here's another example.

Another thing I really like about kirigami is how much freedom you have. There are some basic structural limitations that I quickly learned, but the possibilities are still numerous. Even though it doesn't have the same clean look, I've been using graph paper to experiment because it's a shortcut around the boring tedium of measuring out every fold. All the designs below are my own that I worked out through trial and error.

This one was an early attempt to break from the shackles of symmetrical balance. Does it resemble a house? A printer? A fireplace? Who knows.

I call this one "Desolation of the Mind's Fortitude and Persistent Agony". If that doesn't make sense, you're not looking hard enough.

One of the most fun things to cut are stairs. As my Grandpa used to say, "Let's get all Escher up in this bitch."

Here's another that would be dangerous if it existed in life size. What can I say? Japanese paper art just isn't wheelchair accessible.

This is an early attempt at a mountain shape, but I think it ended up looking more like a cake.

Here's my favorite I've done so far. Every time I look at it I think about Death Mountain or Minas Tirith.

Here's another angle. Actually, I've found that using the graph paper gives everything a cool blocky pixelated look that I quite enjoy. It makes things look like an 8 bit game extending into 3D or like the game Minecraft.

Here's another attempt at making some sort of mountain terrain. It's got a bridge and everything! Unfortunately with more cuts and more complicated folds the paper becomes less stable and doesn't stand up well on it's own. This is the price of awesomeness.

Here it is in collapsed form. As you can see, kirigami is not only fun, it's folds up to easily fit under your bed. How practical!

That's all for now. I may do another kirigami post in the future, but I think next time I will introduce you to the versatile "Sonobe" and the madness of modular origami.

Adventures in Paper: Like Mathematic Snowflakes Part Two

It's time to check out more paper tessellations in my second installment. I know you're excited but calm down. Let's start with one of my favorite patterns known as the clover-fold...

I don't really know why it's called the clover-fold, but I think it looks interesting, and it's challenging. At the end of my last "Adventures in Paper" post I mentioned that doubling the folds seemed to quadruple the results. Below is the same clover-fold using the same sized paper but simply making double the initial creases.

Here is another example of a design I showed last time with double the folds. It implements just a series of triangle twists.

Like many origami tessellations, it can only be fully appreciated with some back lighting. As you can see, it takes on a whole new pattern.

This one below may be my favorite I've done. I think it's a good example of how many shapes and shades can be produced with a single sheet of white paper. The pattern is a double pleat hexagonal tessellation and it uses a similar arrangement of triangle twists.

After a while of folding so many damn triangles, I figured I fold a whole bunch more, but try to fit them closer together.

Here it is again with some sunlight.

This last one is my own design. After folding dozens of tessellations I began experimenting with and combining the folds I'd learned. The end result kind of looks like a mutated flower, star, and snowflake... which is awesome.

Well, that's all for now. Next time I will be showing you the fantastic wonders of cutting and folding paper with the delicate art of Kirigami ... aka the deranged step-brother of Origami.

Adventures in Paper: Like Mathematic Snowflakes Part One

It's been a while since I posted something about my fold-stuffs. Lately I've been focusing on tessellations and using square, rectangular, and hexagonal sheets of paper. Here are some of my earlier attempts:

Often the starting point for any tessellation pattern is by creasing a piece of paper into a grid of triangles and then working them from there. The sheets of paper above and below both started with the same folds and then took on completely different forms.

This one is different from the others because it's more of a 3 dimensional model that doesn't lie flat. But like all tessellations it's made of a repeating fold pattern. I like this one quite a bit.

Here's one I designed myself by just putting together folding techniques I learned with others. I call it, "The Legend of Star Force Power Squad". No, wait, that's the name for my upcoming Saturday morning cartoon.

An aspect of the tessellations I like is how new patterns emerge when they are backlit, like this one. Often people will fold them with foil or plastic sheets to emphasize this effect. But all I can afford is plain ol' modified printer paper. This one looks like a sea of flux capacitors.

Here's another basic pattern that starts with a hexagon twist. And no, that's not the new dance craze. "Hey, did you see Bobby dislocate his groin when he tried the hexagon twist? It was rad."

Next time I'll unleash a batch of images of more advanced tessellations I'm quite proud of. I soon learned that doubling the folds somehow quadruples the results. I don't know how it works, but I'm pretty sure it's magic.

Adventures in Paper: Crane in the Neck

It's time for another installment of Adventures in Paper. As you may know, one of the most well known origami models is the crane. Anybody who has had the slightest inclination to fold paper would have tried this at some point. Every package of origami paper I've ever bought has come with instructions to fold it. The crane is practically the mascot for origami, and here's it is folded with standard 15 x 15cm paper:

The origami crane is a symbol of peace and good fortune, and they say that if you fold 1000 of them you will have a wish granted. My guess is that if you actually did fold 1000 of them you'd only wish for a cure for your ragin' arthritis.

In any case, I've folded plenty of cranes in my life but one day I was struck with an idea; I may not have the time to fold a thousand of these little buggers, but I wonder how small I could make one. Ladies and gentlemen, I had myself a challenge.

Well the logical step after folding a normal sized crane would be to fold a slightly smaller one. I would have to ease myself into this. I busted out the mini origami paper and folded this with a 7.5 x 7.5cm sheet. I little bit tricky, but no sweat.

Okay, that certainly is smaller, but who cares? My next step was to take a fourth of the 7.5cm paper and fold a crane. My fat fingers were getting in the way, but I managed it. Here is the crane I folded with 3.75 x 3.75cm paper.

I was proud of this one, but where do I go from here? There's only one way to go ... smaller, damn it. Take a fourth of the previous paper size and you got yourself a 1.87 x 1.87cm sheet of origami paper. I knew this model meant business when I began sweating from the concentration. Fingers are useless at this point and it's all about using fingernails like tweezers. After more than ten minutes of folding, I had this:

That crane was difficult enough that I felt I had achieved something. Not something I could put on a resume, but something. It had been hard as hell to fold, but the time had come to separate the men from the boys who cant fold shit. My last and smallest attempt was with 0.93 x 0.93cm paper. Thirty excruciatingly tedious minutes later ...

Bam. Now that's a small crane. This crane took two attempts to achieve because the first try I dropped the crane by accident and it fell between the keys of my computer keyboard and was lost forever. That's the kind of tiny I'm talking about. I had to hold my breath nearly the whole time for fear of exhaling it across the room into the carpet, or worse, inhaling it.

All in all, I felt proud for having done it. With nothing but my bare hands and a lot of patience, I had made the smallest ass origami crane I'd ever seen. The only thing I could do after that was fold a box to keep it in so I wouldn't lose the damn thing.

Adventures in Paper: Twisted Squares and Bloody Fingers

Since my university days I've had an interest for folding paper. It wasn't until I went to Korea that my interest turned into a full blown hobby, and these days it's become a bit of a passion. As lame as it might sound, I honestly draw much joy from folding and manipulating paper. Ever since I was a kid, I thought paper had endless potential with what a person could write or draw on it; a blank piece of paper was something waiting to happen. Origami has turned out to be just another form of potential in paper that I really find interesting.

Last year I posted a video of me showing off some of my collection at the time, and in the last month or so, I've been quenching my folding thirst. I figured I would try and make my attempts at this old art a regular segment of my blog. Why? Because as I've said, I find it really interesting, and hopefully I can spread that interest.

First of all, generally I don't make origami animals. I have ... but I'm more drawn to other areas of paper folding like modular origami, abstract and geometric shapes. Yes, it can be fun to make a paper dog, but making a paper dodecahedron is crazier, and therefor cooler in my books.

One branch of origami that is heavily built on geometric shapes that I've recently begun trying is Origami Tessellations. Basically it involves pre-folding a piece of paper for a long time and then spending an even longer (and more frustrating) time trying to fold the paper into submission so it creates a repeating pattern of shapes. For example, here's a sheet of paper with a bunch of pre-folds.

Take the central creased square of the paper and twist it 90 degrees and then set it flat again. Voila! A paper pinwheel thing!

Time to kick it up a notch. Four times the squares meant four times the trouble (I'm good at math). The biggest obstacle is that you can't twist one square at a time. It has to be all done simultaneously. And that was a pain in the ass. Several f-bombs later I got this:

Now that I had the hang of it, time to try 16 squares. Because that'll be more fun, right? I honestly didn't anticipate how long and difficult this would be. The final product took about two hours of creasing and folding to produce:

It's not as crisp as I would like, but I'm happy nonetheless. It's pleasing to look at and touch. I'm a tactile person, which is why I probably eat spaghetti with my hands. When you flip the paper over you can see this:

The weaved pattern was a nice little surprise. Like flipping over the Mona Lisa and finding a taco. So there you have it, my first attempts at an origami tessellation. It's a little distressing, but apparently this design is one of the easiest you can do. I want to try more advanced tessellation patterns, but I fear I will murder a stranger after 4 hours of creasing goes awry.

Aaaaanyway, my next planned installment of Adventures in Paper will be classic origami meets personal challenge. Watch out!