1204: Basket Case

Before Covid hit back in 2020, I had bought a slew of origami books, determined to work through them. One of them – “Origami Tessellations” by Eric Gjerde is one such volume that I barely scratched at the time. There is much richness to explore there, including this beauty:

This is “Basket Weave”, designed by Eric Gjerde. Folded from a 750x500mm rectangle of Kraft paper, on a fine triangle grid over the last few days.

The geometry here is mesmerising – the entire field used only 2 twists, alternating: Open Hexagon twists that rotate counter-clockwise and Closed Triangle twists rotating clockwise. The alternating rotations absorb the intersection conflicts but the folding is so dense (ie. these twists overlap) making the collapse an exercise in patience and perseverance indeed.

I struggled to find a regular rhythm when collapsing this tessellation – each molecule caused deep and awkward pleat overlaps and I could not devise wraps that would make them any less awkward. Working simultaneously on multiple molecules seemed easier as I did not bury so many axial creases while getting it to fold flat. The margins continued to be tangled.

I decided to pre-crease the open hexagons because I could derive the spacing accurately, reasoning that the triangle twists were the glue that set the hexagons in place – this I think saved me making some major blunders in collapsing, although I did notice a few times where the triangles twisted in the wrong direction making surrounding areas clash.

I am looking for a weave that I can fold VERY small, perhaps to make a lampshade of similar decorative inlay. I am not sure this is it as I am not sure i could physically fold this one much smaller without a lot more MUSH. This sheet ended up having pleats about 1cm wide – pleat width determines the size of the weave. My fat clumsy fingers would have struggled to navigate and collapse a smaller grid with this crease pattern.

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1203: Artist Book

It is common for paper artists to “bind” their artworks into “artist books” – a broad display category that ranges from purely decorative through linear narrative forms, and everything in-between. Having recently made a linear design using cyanotype, inks and paint, it occurred to me that a book-like thing might be a fun way to display it.

Traditional “artist books”, in my observation at least, involve cutting, gluing, sometimes stitching and binding. I wondered if something could be achieved using FOLDS alone.

One “type” of artist book that I know of is a thing called a “Concertina Book”, sometimes including cut and folded “extrusions” which elevate parts of the page. I figured something like this should be possible using folding techniques, so took a scrap of paper and began a fold doodle with a simple fan fold.

Using a pair of pleats running across the fan fold gives me pleat overlaps that can then become “gussets” that then force layers up and off the resting surface in interesting ways. This makes “extrusions” that change the dimensionality of the shape.

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1201: Corrugated Tubiform Trefoil Knot

The internet (in this case Instagram) sometimes delivers to you by pure chance (or deliberate algorithm) inspiration that is timely:

A recent work (a square-tube based mobius strip) by Henk van der Vorst sparked a curiosity that led me to damaging a few A0 sheets of Kraft paper to explore a tubiform corrugation, and then work out something to do with it.

There is something interesting (for me, recently) in corrugations, and Henk’s work uses simple right-angle hinges, first documented by Paul Jackson, to use a large-scale fanfold without the tiresome necessity of reversing sections of the crease, and allowing you to curve that fanfold onto itself in an interesting way.

I discovered I could hinge on proportions of 6 and 3, making rectangular tubes that articulate and bend in very interesting (the kids would call it “satisfying”) ways.

I fashioned a bunch of different sizes to test the proportions and see just how small I could fold it reliably and accurately. On the large test folds I glued the seam – not sure why, but as I got smaller, the seam just seemed to keep itself shut and become invisible – especially when the tube was twisted.

A Trefoil knot is historically interesting – it is like a set of interwoven mobius strips, and originally was associated with the “Holy Trinity” : the Father, the Son, and the holy GOAT, or something similar. Renditions of it exist in historic engravings, statuary, heraldic depictions – even common images like the Girl Guide logo/symbol … thing.

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1200: Road To Nowhere

I have this image in my head, of a petty little orange man, walking in circles because he has not realised he in on a flight of M.C. Escher’s stairs:

Oddly … this abstract concept is not that far from what the petty little orange man is actually doing (but, I do not really understand the lure of a golden ballroom), but I digress.

I first saw this model on John McKeever’s Flickr, and think it is a Fujimoto-style set of Escher steps, but the etymology of the model is less clear as it seems to be a variation on a clover-like tessellation, but is deliciously evil in it’s convoluted crease pattern.

I decided I had to try it, but really struggled to understand what the actual floop was going on with the crease pattern – it seemed like the prescribed creases could not co-exist. Naturally I turned to an old trick – I folded a maquette:

After a few days of twiddling with printer paper CP copies until they disintegrated, I finally found a collapse sequence that … somehow … sorted itself out by repeatedly bending back on itself. The real trick was working out which vertices go up and which go down – when you sort that out it is still counter-intuitive … until it isn’t.

I started with a 55cm square of Kraft, using a pencil I divided it into 12th, then trimmed 1 unit off 2 adjacent sides to reduce the grid to 11×11. I then used a stylus to place all the of the pre-creases, ensuring I oriented them mountain/valley as indicated. I was soooo chuffed at how CLEAN the pre-creases were, knowing how important it was to NOT mark some faces that would be solid squares in the final model.

I then had to walk away from it, as pleased as I was with the eventual success on maquettes, committing it to the actual fold is a step that made me oddly nervous.

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1199: Get Knotted

As a paper folder, when someone tells you to “get knotted” … you have “options” – right?

I was playing around with offcuts – those inevitable slivers of paper you cleave off a sheet as you are squaring them and an idea struck.

I keep all my off-cuts, particularly those off beautiful papers – you never know when you might need some colour/texture. In the past I have added them to my paper pulp to add “thread-like” inclusions, and sandwiched them in-between translucent layers of wenzhou in paper mache sculptures etc.

I wanted to do something more “origami” oriented … so I tied a knot in a thin strip, and remembered that a flat knot resolves into a perfect (all things aligned and taut) pentagonal knot. If you string a few knots along the length then the strip does some pretty sculptural zig-zagging. I found I could decide the direction of the zig/zag by how I tied the knot, and that I could “graft” other strips on by simply knotting them there and hiding the extra end inside the graft knot.

I played around with Kraft paper strips to get my bearings, then added coloured accent strips of Hanji (purple, and green with acrylic ink spatter) and Kozo (red dry brushed with gold), knotted to intertwine like tendrils of an invasive weed. The original composition had a bunch more colours, but as I kept coming back to it, simpler seemed better so I gradually removed down to what you see here now. Initially I photographed it resting atop a sheet of my hand-made Kozo tissue because it looks classier like that. Should i ever decide to show/frame it I would prolly do the same. The geometry and composition is pleasing to me none the less.

It reminds me a little of the bold linework of Joan Miró, or the architectural geometry of Piet Mondrian, the fiddly intricate linework of Wassily Kandinsky, or the delicious geometry of Alexander Calder. We can all aspire to greatness I guess.

Origami “purists” will probably look down their noses at this because it is not folded from a square, contains multiple pieces and used some glue under each knot to anchor it to a sheet of olive Canson Mi-Teintes. That sort of folder snob can go get knotted 😛

1198: Shuriken Trunk

I seem drawn to corrugations lately – there is something cathartic about folding such geometry, and this one, designed by Boice Wong is very satisfying to play with:

Although the CP and demo from Boice is based on a 24 gridded square, it is possible to expand the pattern infinitely on the long axis – I decided to try it as a 2:1 rectangle and found it fairly easy to fold accurately. The collapse, although a little more exhaustive, is none the less straightforward.

This corrugation is a self-sealing “tube-like” construction that folds back on itself – I think there is a more positive lock possible, but this works fine. The base structure is a crenellated plus (+) sign, that you then shape the arms using a series of inside reverse folds.

Once collapsed, and flexed a little, it becomes deliciously bendy – you can transform it in a variety of ways, twist it tightly and then it collapses back into a compact stack form – what fun.

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1189: Chook

As often happens, I was approached by a mate to fold a model for him (MJ) – he wanted a “Chook” for a surprise gift for his wife (Nikki) on her birthday. I love a challenge, so began looking for the best origami chook.

Turns out there are LOTS of roosters out there, but relatively few hens that looks like hens – I wanted feathers, volume and a playful but realistic chookiness and found in Makoto Yamaguchi’s beautiful book “Transcendent Origami”, a chicken designed by Kyohei Katsuta that I knew I needed to fold because it was perfect.

After doing a test fold, it became apparent that it was a 2-part model (top half has the rings and tail, comb and wattle) and the bottom half has the legs, beak and fluffy bum. It is a colour change model so with some careful “Kimiroing” I was able to use 2 sheets of glorious black spattered Shadow Thai (from origami-shop.com) that has Rorschach-like inkblots on one side, black mulberry on the back. The black was perfect for feet and beak. I laminated some red Kozo in the spot that would become the comb and wattle and I was away.

From my test fold, I was able to guestimate the paper size to make the chook more or less life-size – well, more of a bantam, but large enough for my purposes.

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Exploring Pre-Papers (Amate and Papyrus)

At a recent Papermakers and Artists of Queensland (PAQ) weekend workshop I had the time to explore some early techniques that made “paper-like” ancestors of the modern thing we know of as paper.

I had carefully scraped, cooked and cleaned some Paper Mulberry bast, but left it in bark sheet form, and was interested in treating it differently. Conventionally I would cut it up a little and then beat it until it became uniformly pulpy, suspend that pulp in water and catch thin sheets of it on my mould and deckle.

…but …

In Meso-America (ancient Mexico), they would take similarly cooked inner bark from a fig tree (sadly I think the species they used is now extinct), WEAVE the strips together and then beat it until the strips spread and combine and their fibers inter-connected, making a “pre-paper” surface called AMATE.

I tried this with my mulberry bast – beating the woven mat with my “Andy Mallet” until it spread thinly across the flat-spun organza I lined my wooden beating board with. This was then gently couched between 2 sheets of fine cotton, and joined my paper post in the press to get rid of the excess water.

The result is lovely – with practice I think I could get it thinner and more even, but as an experiment it resulted in a lovely “paper-like” substance that is very strong.

The second such experiment had me lay layers of bark down, changing the direction of the layers each time – when beaten, the resultant sheet spread more, was thinner and a little more flexible when dry – this technique was meant to simulate aspects of the PAPYRUS process – originally made in areas like Egypt from the pith of water reeds, laid in layers that alternated direction and then beaten thin until the fibers meshed.

There are historical examples of both types of pre-paper that are thousands of years old – a fabulous record of written history. In the west, things like Vellum (stretched and dried animal skins) pre-dated what we now recognise as paper, but the pre-papers are interesting in their own right.

I think the “papyrus” process resulted in the most interesting looking sheet – I think it looks a lot “seascapey”, but both are interesting. Mulberry bast, before it is beaten has an interesting texture – just under the 2 outer layers of bark the bas has a “grain” which is lost when the bast is then beaten and fluffed into pulp. I like that these techniques actually accentuated the grain, showing off the silken waves in a beautiful and lasting way.

1182: Clever Girl!

I have long since given up on the “Jurassic Park” franchise, it seemed like I was seeing essentially the same movie each time. I do, however, remember when Velociraptors were the main baddie:

This is a NEW velociraptor design, by Yery J. Astroña, from their soon to be published book.

After editing the diagram, I decided I needed to test fold the model to clarify the instructions around finishing certain details.

I love it that our understanding of what dinosaurs must have looked like continually is being revised by science. This velociraptor seems very bird-like, in feature and pose. It is also an interesting exercise in colour change.

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Catching Clouds – Making Kozo Tissue

Last PAQ meeting I had the privilege of running the group’s Hollander Beater, processing my most recently cooked and cleaned paper mulberry pulp. In the past I have hand-beaten it, but was determined to give the mechanised processing a try (to see if I could).

The pulp floofed up into delicious clouds of softly frayed pulp after a few hours circulating in the beater. I took the beaten pulp home, rinsed it a couple of times and then pressed it into pulp storage sheets. I ladled 3 x 2L scoops of pulp into my old A3 mould and deckle, smoothing it off with my hands, then added them to my press, couching between. The batch made 6 such sheets.

After pressing, these pulp sheets were set to dry over the next week – when dry they are storage stash stable.

For the tissue session, I re-hydrated one of these sheets in a tall bucket, tearing it up until it was finely shredded. I then agitated it with my electric drill and a paint-stirrer attachment until it was separate and fluffy again. I brought the bucket of pulp and most of my sheet forming equipment to the PAQ meeting last Sunday and set up a bit of a production line.

I have a large vat (so I can easily move my A3 frame in it), and half-filled it with water. Then added 2 scoops of pulp to the water in the vat, along with half a bottle (about 100ml) of pre-prepared Methyl Cellulose (MC) gel and about 200ml of strained Okra mucilage. The MC was to act as an internal size for the paper (to help with the strength and crispness). The Okra mucilage acted as a suspension aid to keep the pulp from quickly sinking to the bottom of the vat.

After a thorough mix to fluff up and evenly distribute the relatively sparce pulp in the water, I was able to pull sheets by catching the “clouds” that so delicately hung in the water.

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Adolfo Cerceda’s “Peacock”

I had a cut-off scrap of Kozo, so decided to try remembering how to fold the Peacock I memorised as a 12 year old:

To my delight, the fold sequence was still accessible in my crowded brain. I remember that I committed a bunch of models to memory, and folded them relentlessly – I had few resources back then, and the designs available to me was really limited (this was pre-internet, and access to books on origami in Maleny, a small country town, was really limited).

I cleaved a roughly 2:1 rectangle from the most damaged part of the sheet (as I was couching it onto the glass sheet, a huge air bubble formed then popped) causing the hole. I set about forming the bird’s head and body from the most solid end, tail from the rest – the hole is nicely hidden in the ruffle of the tail.

In research it seems this design was controversial – Akira Yoshizawa claimed he designed it first, but the timeline suggest this is not the case. Although he was a design legend, he seemed unable to accept that someone else could come up with a design idea that matches (mostly) his own. There was a bit of a flame war about the model in the press. Read about this controversy here.

I added a head frill because … reasons. I intend to display this model beside the more recent peacock so wanted the models to be morphologically similar. This is an action model – you can push the tail up and it fans out in full display – clever “traditional” design.

Once again I am a little chuffed about how well my hand-made kozo tissue takes and holds folds. This is paper made from finely beaten kozo (paper mulberry) pulp – dispersed in water, caught on a mesh mould, pressed to remove some of the water, dried on glass. Nothing else – no treatment, nothing.

Wow, just wow – LOOK how small and perfect it is. I made 5 sheets, a couple of different techniques but it is all crisp, rattly and strong – cannot wait to fold it.

1180: Fractal Crane

I have been making Mulberry tissue, and wanted a non-trivial model to test the foldability of the untreated sheets. I remember finding @taniiiii_ori ‘s Fractal Crane CP on Twitter ages ago, so decided it was perfect – based on a traditional fold, with a modern complex twist:

I picked the first sheet of tissue I pulled from my vat of freshly beaten kozo pulp – it was imperfect, painfully thin but none the less lovely. I cut the largest square I could from the most solid end and then set to laying in pre-creases for an n=2 fractal.

The CP is easily extended to add new levels, but the folds get impossibly fiddly exponentially – an n=2 was a good compromise I thought.

I was delighted to find that the paper took the pre-creases well, with no visible fatigue as I exposed the sheet to torsion and tension making the fiddly folds in the central gutter. Once creases were in and oriented correctly (mountains or valleys depending on their job) , the collapse began. The small bird-bases collapse and that allows the central gutter to form naturally around them.

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1179: Peacock

Currently I am editing a new book by Sampreet Mana, and when I saw his Peacock, I knew I wanted to test-fold it:

As a kid, one of the first models I committed to memory was Adolfo Cerceda’s Peacock, folded from a 2:1 rectangle.

Sampreet’s design starts as a square, and you begin with the head plume, then form the rest of the model around this. I followed one of the suggested paper recommendations (50cm Damul Kraft), but wish I had a better colour (ideally blue/green) – I may source more appropriately coloured paper and re-fold this – we shall see how time works out.

With supercomplex models, my fold philosophy is “fold until you finish or fail” – knowing full well that either way I am learning – every fold teaches you something.

There are LOTS of complex steps, and some really interesting manipulations that isolate the tail, elongate the body and separate wings, lefts etc – I am really impressed with the structure of the model. The resultant model eats paper like crazy, but most of the bulk ends up in the middle of the body, giving it a natural weight and thickness and making final shaping and layer stabilization easier.

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1174: Iterative Design

One of many design techniques used in Origami (and other aspects of life) is Iteration.

I decided I wanted to make an Origami approximation of a Mitsubishi Triton with a “camper trailer” modification.

I did some rifling through my Origami reference collection and found in the OUSE Convention book a lovely base “Jeep” model, designed by Stefan Delecat.

Folding it gave me some useful widgets for isolating tyres, windscreens and integrating them into a car body … but … it was the wrong shape. On the folded maquette I penned areas that needed expanding and contracting. Unfolding that maquette I was able to see where “grafts” were necessary. A GRAFT is the addition of extra paper to enable a feature – it ahs knock-on effects however of requiring you to deal with the extra paper in areas it was not originally in.

Folding the first iteration of solution, I added waaay too much paper, ended up with a stretched limo, but that sparked the “I can cold the whole thing, including tent with one sheet” fiasco – refolding it again and again I abandoned that idea because it ruined the line of the vehicle – technically possible yes, aesthetically pleasing solution no. Re-working the grafts allowed me to add width and length grafts that I folded into a final proportioned maquette.

Fortunately, the width and length grafts allowed me to add “seams” between the Cab and the trailer. adjust the height of the trailer section and correct the proportions of hood-windscreen-cab that align the model more closely to the actual vehicle.

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1172: Storylines

When asked to be part of the Papermakers and Artists QLD “On A Roll” Gallery exhibit, my first thoughts of a “scroll-like” object I could make was always going to be something relating to my current passion – Mulberry paper – Kozo.

I had, in previous posts, explored the harvesting and cleaning, beating and use of White Mulberry and Paper Mulberry pulp from twig to finished sheet. A consequence of processing a sheath of White mulberry was a collection of lovely white sticks without their bark. Experimenting what I could do with them, I discovered they accepted soft graphite pencil really well.

A scroll, to me, tells a story. Story telling is something that humans have always done, ever since they evolved the ability to communicate. Lots of cultures evolved oral traditions (spoken word), more developed repeatable symbology that evolved into alphabets and written communications. I was determined to explore ancient and modern story telling, with the idea that “Once upon a time” was a concept that has begun every story, in one form or another.

I began collecting different representations of the concept of “once upon a time”, and included Arabic, Burmese, Cantonese, English, Greek, Hebrew, Hindi, Japanese, Khmer, Korean, Lao, Maori, Mongolian, Nepali, Persian, Punjab, Sanskrit, Tamil, Thai, Tibetan, Urdu, Yiddish scripts that expressed this concept. Using a soft pencil, I transcribed (as faithfully as I could) these scripts, one per stick onto the twig bundle – interesting some used left to right, others right to left.

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