Stop Making Accurate Butterflies (and Other Origami Showerthoughts)

by Marcus

 

Thoughts I have that are interesting but that I can’t stretch into a full essay. Enjoy!

 

There’s No Such Thing as a Good Butterfly (with all the legs)

 

Theory: It’s impossible to make an origami butterfly with actual folded-out legs look good. This isn’t a new idea–Robert Lang mentions the difficulty of this task in Origami Design Secrets–but he only goes so far as to suggest that nobody’s made a good one yet. I, on the other hand, think that day will never come. The problem lies in the structure of paper: there isn’t enough space in a single square to fit all the legs and the wings at once. If you put the leg flaps in the center (e.g. Lang, Sirgo, Kamiya), they end up clunky and awkward-looking. If you put them on the edge (e.g. Engel) that problem is solved, but all that paper in the middle has to go somewhere, and it usually ends up as extra layers in the wings, making them clunky and awkward-looking. So yeah, not possible. Maybe let’s just stick to the Michael LaFosse butterflies instead.

 

Become Undiagrammable

 

There’s one fold in Jeremy Shafer’s “Men’s Suit” from Origami to Astonish and Amuse that’s written like this:

 

What he means, of course, is “perform a swivel fold, and then repeat it on the other side.” That would be the more technical and perhaps more precise term. But Shafer chooses a more tactile approach, describing the motions one’s hands should make to do the fold properly. Which one do you choose? It all comes down to taste, since there’s no “right” answer. Origami diagrams are an imperfect language, and there’s always going to be a point where you just have to trust your reader and hope they fold your model correctly.

 

Opening Fold Names

 

A peculiarity of the art is that there are specific names for folding a rectangle in half edge-to-edge: “hot dog” for folding the longer edges together and “hamburger” for the shorter edges. Why doesn’t that apply to squares? I mean, I kind of know the answer already. There are two ways to fold a square in half, either edge-to-edge or diagonally, and that’s already a verbal distinction, so another one isn’t needed. But just because I can, I’ll give them unique names, and I’ll inject a little diversity into it and name them after non-American foods. So edge-to-edge on a square is “gua bao” and diagonally is “taco.” Deal with it.

 

The Other Lepidopterans

 

Okay, forget about butterflies – when was the last time you saw an origami moth? In contrast to butterflies, which are relatively common (with and without legs), I only know two origami moths: Montroll’s “Moth” and LaFosse’s “Papillon de Nuit”. I think this is unfair; moths are interesting, even if they aren’t as colorful as butterflies, and it’s a waste not to explore the subject matter further.

 

The Best Argument for Abolishing Intellectual Property, Certainly

 

Here’s a fact very few folders talk about: Different kami manufacturers make slightly different origami paper. I discovered this when I folded through John Montroll’s Origami Antidiamonds, for which I used 25 centimeter kami to make the models. I own two brands of paper in that size, one made by Daiso and the other by Toyo. The Daiso one is just better, it’s not even a question. It’s thinner and crisper, and the locks always hold more effectively. A similar thing happens with 15 cm foil paper. Many brands exist, but a lot of them are either too thick or the color flakes off too easily. Yasutomo makes the best one, in my experience. So maybe we should put more thought into which brand of origami paper we buy. Or maybe we could abolish intellectual property and force all the best brands into revealing their papermaking techniques, and then everyone would have access to them. It’s your choice, I guess.

 

Apparently Origami Tweezers are Weird

 

When I donated my insects from the Robert Lang article (linked here) to the Paper Tree, the first thing I got asked was “did you use tweezers for these?” This felt weird; the answer I wanted to give but didn’t was an indignant “what do you think?” It kept nagging at me, and then I realized why. I’ve been using my origami tweezers for so long that I cease to see them as a tool. They’re an extension of my fingers, and they move in the same way that my fingers do. So I no longer think of them as unusual. Imagine asking a sculptor about a statue “did you use a chisel to make this?” It’s a strange question; they’re just so normal that I take them for granted.

 

That said, folding tweezers are clearly considered non-standard equipment by a lot of people. Might there be folders who outright reject them, the same way I rejected wet-folding years ago? Surely someone must have. I honestly would like to meet people who refuse to use them–it would be further proof of something I’ve long held true, that there is a whole universe of origami purisms, that there is no fixed version of “pure origami” and never will be.

 

The strips on the shield of Joisel’s Barbarian and why they’re the best

 

One of my favorite textures in all of origami occurs in Eric Joisel’s “Barbarian,” specifically on the shield.

 

Take a look at the strips down the center. These are a detail taken directly from real medieval shields, which is already nice. But more importantly, they’re perfectly captured by the simple layering of pleats. Furthermore, the point in the center arises as a completely natural extension of the intersection point, which has double the thickness of the normal pleats. It works on two levels by fitting both the paper and the subject matter at the same time. If you ever felt there wasn’t quite enough evidence of Eric Joisel’s brilliance as a folder, here’s some more for you.

 

Crease Imprinting

 

I’ve noticed an interesting property of foil paper: if you have two layers stacked on top of each other and you make a crease on the top one, a very faint “shadow” of that crease will appear on the bottom layer, perfectly aligned with the one on top. It barely even counts as a crease–just a small indentation–but it is a visible mark of the line. I’ve exploited this a fair number of times to make landmarks without creasing the paper in spots where I want it to be uncreased. I’m not sure if it should count as a real technique since it’s only possible with a certain kind of paper. But then again, so is wet-folding, so who am I to judge?

 

I Want to Start a Diagram Correcting Service

 

I read a lot of origami books and I’ve run into plenty of diagrams that are… less than helpful. So I have a dream: start a service that finds these diagrams, corrects them, and republishes better editions of the books. It’s passive-aggressive and it helps make origami accessible-the best of both worlds!

 

To Draft or Not to Draft, That Is the Question

 

When you fold a model, do you do it multiple times to get it right? Or do you just do it once, consider it good, and then move on? For me it depends: for some complex models, I’ll make one draft in foil just to get the hang of it and then a second and final draft in the actual paper I want to use. If I’m trying to build an army of ants or something similar, I’ll of course repeat that model multiple times. Then there are the models I like to teach to other people, and those are usually simple ones that I fold quite often. But when I’m just folding for fun, I’ll usually fold something exactly once and then move on to the next thing (it helps that I’ve developed my technique to the point where most things look pretty good on the first try). Do tell me what your usual practice is.