Folded state — where it appears
Named by 38 essays across 8 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The paper is all still there
A folded sheet is smaller than it was and none of it has gone anywhere. How much smaller it is and how many layers deep it is are not two properties of a pattern — they are one number, and their product is the sheet.
The lengths are free
Kawasaki reads angles, Maekawa counts letters, and the big-little-big lemma compares one sector with its neighbours. Not one condition in the subject mentions how long a crease is — so a single vertex is not a pattern but a whole family of them, every member folding, no two folding into the same shape.
More than one way to lie flat
A crease pattern with its mountains and valleys marked is spoken of as though it named a folded object. It does not. The legal stackings can be counted exactly in one dimension, the count is routinely more than one, and its size is a property of the pattern that nobody quotes.
The outline is mostly crease
The edge of a folded model is what a reader looks at, and almost none of it is the edge of the paper. Measured across five patterns, the sheet's own boundary accounts for between nothing and a third of the exposed edge; the rest is fold, and on a waterbomb tessellation the raw edge does not reach the outside at all.
The shadow does not name the pattern
A photograph of a folded model carries an outline and a thickness at every point of it, and that is the whole of what it carries. It is not enough. Crease patterns in genuinely different places fold to identical outlines with identical layer counts, and nearly a third of the folded objects a short strip can reach are reached by more than one pattern.
The order does not name it either
A photograph of a folded model carries an outline and a layer count, and that is not enough to recover the pattern. Hand the observer the layer order as well — everything the object physically is — and most of the ambiguity goes. Most. What is left are pairs of genuinely different crease patterns that fold to the same object, which no better photograph reaches.
Decided before the design
A colour change brings the reverse side of the paper to the front, and the usual account is that the two-colouring of the panels decides which panels are available. Measured on the site's own printed patterns, availability is not the constraint: both sides lie over more than ninety-nine per cent of most folded footprints. The other side is not scarce. It is under eight layers of paper.
No height to swap
A folded strip is a permutation of segments, and the smallest change a hand can make to it is a swap of two heights: 672 stackings, 560 of them isolated. A folded sheet has no height. Its layers are ordered by statements about which panels share ground, and on every printed pattern the search can finish, the answer is one stacking and no way out of it.
The rim lies over less
A folded sheet's boundary is usually discussed as the place the theorems stop applying. It is also visible in the pile: a panel carrying a raw edge of the paper lies over fewer of the other panels than one that does not, on every printed pattern that has both kinds — 18.0 against 21.0 on a Miura, 31.0 against 37.7 on a waterbomb tessellation, and never once the other way round.
The lettering that folds nowhere
The conditions at a vertex admit 256 letterings of the square twist. Eight of them have a folded state. The other 248 satisfy developability, Kawasaki, Maekawa and the big-little-big lemma at every vertex of the pattern and cannot be folded by anyone — and this site printed one of them for years, at true scale, with instructions to fold it first.
The tiling the unit could not promise
Every twist on this site carries the same caveat: the unit is verified and the plane is not, because deciding a whole pattern is intractable. There is one thing about a whole pattern that costs a single pass over its crease list, and it says no. The square twist tiling was drawn with a lettering that contains a loop of twenty-eight panels, so the patch on this site had no flat folded state at all — and only seven of forty independent redraws avoid one.
The crumple keeps its options
Every crease pattern this site prints has exactly one folded state and not one of its thirty-nine available rearrangements is legal. A sheet creased by folding it at random four times has an average of 2.16 folded states, one of them has nine, and six of three hundred and thirty-five rearrangements are legal. The sheet nobody designed is the one with room left in it.
Which side arrives
A colour change is described as a choice: bring the reverse of the sheet to the front where the design wants it. On a pattern whose panels can be ordered, nobody chooses. The preliminary base shows the side that started face up over one part in a thousand of its own footprint, and two of its eight panels are the only ones in view at all.
The map counted from the layers
The classical map-folding counts are computed from a rule that never places a panel: work out which edge of the folded square each fold wraps around, and refuse the orderings that interleave two folds at one edge. Place the panels instead and order them by the general non-crossing rules, and the same numbers come out — 2, 6, 16, 50, 144, 8, 60, 320, 1368 — on nine sizes, by machinery that shares no line of code with the first.
Twice as thick where it is thickest
A folded leaf's thickness is quoted as an area calculation: so much lamina, so much footprint, so many layers on average. The average is not what has to fit in the bud. Sampling the folded state of corrugated leaf patterns of two to five rows gives a deepest point of eight, twelve, sixteen and twenty layers against averages of 4.15, 6.23, 8.31 and 10.39 — a ratio of 1.926 that does not move at all.
The patterns a checker is tested on
This site keeps four populations of crease patterns and runs its checkers over them, which is what makes a claim about typical instances measurable rather than rhetorical. Asked whether the members actually fold, the populations answer: thirteen of thirty-three do, six place and cannot be ordered, five cannot be placed at all, and nine are past what the search will finish.
A collision is an order
Paper passing through paper is treated here as a thing that happens during a motion and is caught by watching for it. At the flat state it is not an event at all: it is the absence of an ordering, and it can be proved rather than observed. Four of the six quadrilateral meshes this site solves for rigid folding place perfectly and admit no ordering of their nine panels — so every one of them must pass through itself, and none of them was ever driven to find out.
The vertex the list does not have
Every condition this collection checks is asked at a vertex of a crease pattern, and a crease pattern is handed to the checker as a list of points and segments. A reader is handed ink. Read the same patterns the second way and eight printed sheets gain nothing at all — while four tessellation patches gain 12, 18, 12 and 5 vertices that nobody wrote down, every one of them a place where two creases were drawn across each other.
Cutting a patch out of a plane
A tessellation is infinite and a sheet is not, so every picture of one is a decision about where the paper stops. Assembling whole twist units on a square and running the outstanding pleats to the rim puts 12, 18, 12 and 5 creases across other creases on four of five tilings; generating the pattern over a larger region and clipping it puts none. The panels then place exactly — and what is waiting behind the repair is a different refusal that could not be asked about before.
The property a patch does not have
A folded corrugation is described as a material — a packing ratio, a stiffness, a Poisson's ratio — and every one of those is a statement about an unbounded medium. Fold the same tiling at six sizes on the same square and the compaction climbs from 3.89 layers to 4.79 as the share of units the rim cuts falls from nine tenths to four, and it has not settled at the fine end. The number a patch gives is the material's number minus its own boundary.
A cut that reaches the edge
A ring of paper with three creases running from its hole to its rim satisfies every condition the subject has — vacuously, because it has no interior vertex at all — and cannot be folded: its panels take no two colours and the two routes to one of them end up 1.75 sheet widths apart. One cut from the hole to the edge, crossing no crease and changing no letter, and it folds exactly. The cut removes an adjacency, which is the one thing neither a fold nor an edge can do.
A proof in one pass
Deciding whether a crease pattern has a flat folded state is hard, and the search that decides it gives up at twenty-four panels. One line of the same machinery does not search at all: each crease says which of the two panels it joins lies above the other, and a circle in what those statements demand is a proof that no folded state exists. It costs one pass over the crease list, and on a tessellation patch of a hundred and fifty-seven panels it answers in milliseconds.
The loop is not the tangle
A search that finds a contradiction in a pattern's letters reports the first circle it meets, and on a tessellation patch that is eight to twelve panels of forty-nine. It reads as a local fault. Decompose the same arrows a second way and the set of panels that lie on some circle is thirty-five of forty-nine on the square patch and ninety-nine of a hundred and fifty-seven on the rhombille — which is why the smallest available repair does not reach it, and cannot be tried on most of the creases at all.
A contradiction is even
A crease pattern's letters can demand a circle of panels each of which lies below the next, which is a proof that the sheet has no folded state. Every such circle found here — one thousand one hundred and forty-nine of them, across every family of patterns this collection draws — has an even number of panels in it, and none has four. Both facts are theorems rather than observations, and they come from opposite ends of the subject.
Consistent is not foldable
The square twist has 4,096 mountain-valley labellings. Two hundred and fifty-six satisfy every condition at every vertex; two hundred and fifty-two of those have letters that do not contradict themselves; and eight have a folded state. So the cheap proof that reads the letters in one pass accounts for four of the two hundred and forty-eight failures, and the other two hundred and forty-four are refused by a search over orderings that nothing shorter replaces.
The ring is the loop
The square twist's central polygon is four creases enclosing one panel, and a lettering that gives all four the same letter has no folded state. That was established by enumerating the orderings of nine panels. It can now be read off the crease list in one pass, because the eight panels the letters send round in a circle are exactly the ring — the twist's own defining feature, contradicting itself.
The letters a crumple was given
A sheet creased by folding it and folding it again arrives with a mountain-valley labelling that cannot be wrong, because a folding produced it. Nothing about the pattern protects it: reletter the same creases and the share of labellings whose letters agree falls from every one of forty at eight panels to eleven of forty at forty-one. The foldability of a crumple is a fact about its history, not about its drawing.
One cut removes one arc
A crease pattern whose letters contradict themselves has, in principle, an obvious smallest repair: cut one crease and the statement it was making goes away. Cut every crease of four tessellation patches in turn — four hundred and seventy-four cuts — and sixteen of them leave a sheet whose panels still land anywhere at all. A cut gives the paper a freedom, and a sheet with a freedom in it has no folded state to order.
The file records no verdict
A crease pattern file records vertices, edges and letters. Every one of the square twist's two hundred and fifty-six admissible letterings makes a perfectly valid file, and two hundred and forty-eight of them describe an object that does not exist. The format has a field for the layer order — the one thing that would settle it — and nothing fills it in, so a file is a drawing rather than a claim, and the field exchanges them as though they were claims.
The first thing about layers
A folder is taught four conditions at a vertex, or is taught nothing at all, and neither one says anything about the layers — which is where most of what goes wrong actually goes wrong. There has never been a rule about layer order simple enough to teach, because the question is global and every answer to it was a search. A chain of panels whose arrows all point the same way is the first one that fits on a finger.
Closure is not the identity
Walk a folded state from panel to panel, composing a reflection at every crease, and come back to where the walk started: the composition has to be the identity. That is the rule everybody states, and it is a special case. On a sheet whose edges are glued the walk does not come back to where it started, and what the composition has to equal is the gluing map.
The turn a column costs
The Yoshimura's drawing repeats every column. Folded flat, it does not: the fold carries one column onto the next by a turn of two hundred and forty degrees, so the folded state repeats every third column and not before. A pattern has two periods and only one of them has ever been written down.
The period nobody measured
Every repeating pattern in this collection has its drawn period recorded, because a drawing cannot be generated without one. Its folded period is recorded nowhere, and on one of the families measured the two differ by a factor of three — which means the number that has always been quoted is the wrong one for anything about the folded object.
The field is empty where it would say nothing
The interchange format for crease patterns has a field for the layer order and nothing ever fills it in. Filling it in where the folded states can be listed — four of the eight printed patterns, and Miura patches to twelve panels — finds that the preliminary base and both twists have exactly one folded state, so every one of the field's signs follows from the crease pattern and the field would record nothing a reader could not compute. The fold-and-cut triangle has two states. The Miura is different: every patch with three or more columns has several — three, six and eleven on the three-by-two, three-by-three and four-by-three — so on the pattern that gets built the field carries information from six panels up, and the field's size had been measured as log₂ of the panels' orderings, which on the preliminary base is fifteen bits for an object that has zero.
The plane the five points were in
Five corrugations measured at one setting each gave five points, and the space between them was left as an open question: forbidden, or merely unvisited. Every one of those patterns has a dial nobody turned. Turned, they trace curves — the accordion's is a line with integers on it, the square twist's is the diagonal and nothing else, and the Miura's turns round on itself, so a steeper slant stops buying a smaller sheet.
The direction that gets longer
A shrink factor below one is a direction in which the folded sheet is bigger than the flat one, and the leaf corrugation has one. The cause is not the taper and not the angle: a corrugation's folded extent across its own creases is a constant of the cell, the same number at two rows and at ten, so the cross factor is the sheet's height divided by a fixed length — a straight line through the origin that crosses one at a definite row count.
One sheet down
A colour change has been priced by how deep the pile is — eight layers over every point of the preliminary base, six on a small Miura. Ordered, the piles say something else: wherever the other side of the paper lies under a point, it is the next sheet down on every pattern with one folded state, and never more than two down on any. And relettering the same creases cannot reach it. Of 112 letterings of the preliminary base that fold, every one shows either the printed face or the whole face turned the other colour; the square twist's eight only turn its face round.
One choice with eleven answers
A folded state was proposed as a short list of free choices — which way a flap lies, where a rim panel sits — with the layer-order field's signs following from them. Listed exhaustively on every Miura patch small enough, the choices are never independent: every sign that varies is tied to every other through a shared panel, so the states are one choice with many answers. And there are more answers than the record said. The overlap test had a blind spot a third of a panel wide, and with it corrected the three-by-three Miura has six folded states, not one, and the four-by-three eleven, not five.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Layer orderingCrease patternNecessary conditionAssignmentFlat-foldabilityLayer countLayer orderNon-crossing conditionUnit cellTessellationBoundary vertexCrease assignment