Layer count — where it appears
Named by 30 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The sheet has a thickness
Every crease pattern describes a surface with no thickness. Everything anybody builds has some, and getting it around a corner is the central problem of turning origami into hardware.
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.
What a corrugation costs
Every tessellation this repository can fold, measured the same way: how much smaller it gets, how deep the stack becomes, and how much creasing was needed to buy it. The last column is the one nobody quotes and the one a folder feels.
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 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 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.
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.
How much line is on the paper
A crease pattern is described by its creases: how many, at what angles, in what arrangement. What a folder spends is length. The Yoshimura this site prints has eighty-six creases and 2,380 millimetres of folding on a sheet seventeen centimetres across; the Miura has thirty-eight creases and 1,049, and the fold-and-cut triangle has six and 258 — and the two counts do not rank the eight printed patterns the same way.
Fourth of eight, and still not chosen for it
A deployable is sold on compaction: large in use, small in transit. Measured, the pattern that actually gets built converts folding into compaction at 0.67 sheet-widths of crease per layer, which is fourth of the eight printed patterns — nearly three times worse than the Yoshimura, which nobody deploys, and nearly three times better than the hexagon twist, which nobody deploys either. The ranking does not pick out the pattern that flew from anywhere on the shelf, and that is the finding.
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.
One witness or forty
Taking the randomness out of a search made it three orders of magnitude cheaper in the worst case and cost it thirty-nine of its forty answers. The compromise everybody reaches for — randomise only the choices that cannot matter — recovers four of the forty on two patches and none on the other three, because the diversity was never where it looked.
The bottom layer is at the rim
A hundred and sixty-nine panels of folded tessellation, and three of them have nothing underneath. All three touch the paper's edge, and the same is true on every tiling at every size measured. Which panel is at the bottom of a stack turns out to be a fact about where the sheet was cut rather than about the pattern, and the pattern itself has no bottom at all.
Folding it flat is one similarity
Where a cell of paper goes when a twist tessellation collapses is a scale and a turn: multiply the plane's lattice by 0.410373441 and rotate it by 36.62°. That is the answer on the square grid, the triangular grid, the honeycomb, the elongated triangular tiling and the rhombille alike, agreeing to eight figures — while the collection's other answer to how much smaller it gets gives those five tilings five different numbers.
An order with no least element
Enumerating every way a folded pattern can be stacked works by building upward from a panel with nothing below it. The smallest square twist patch has exactly one such stacking and takes eleven thousand steps to find it. The pattern that patch was cut from has no panel with nothing below it at all, so the enumeration has nothing to start from — and the sheet is perfectly well stacked anyway.
The census returns one
The rung below this one asked for a census: every pattern reaching a stated packing ratio while opening from a single input, with its crease density. The census is makeable for the corrugations and it comes back with one member. A corrugation piles its panels over a footprint as wide as its longest panel, so its ratio is the total length divided by that longest one — and that equals the panel count only when every panel is the same.
A sheet has a size as well
The layer count a design reaches is fixed by how thin the paper is. What size the finished thing comes out at is fixed by how large the sheet is, through a factor the pattern decides: the folded footprint times the mean layer count is the area of the paper, so the linear shrink is the square root of the layer count and a sixty-four-layer model finished at a hand's width wants more than a metre of sheet.
Which ceiling is binding
Two constraints hold a design's layer count down and both are ceilings on the same number. The stack gets better as the paper thins; the grid gets better as the sheet grows, because piling layers needs divisions and a division cannot be finer than a folder can place it. They cross at a sheet size that rises as the paper thins — so on the papers a classical folder had, the substrate really is the limit, and only at tissue weights does the hand take over.
How many wedges the paper allows
A k-pointed folk star is folded into 2k equal wedges and cut once, so the scissors go through 2k thicknesses of the sheet. The geometry is indifferent to k and the paper is not: at a stack a pair of scissors will shear cleanly in one pass, ordinary copier paper takes a three-pointed star and nothing more, and the five-pointed one everybody knows needs washi or thinner.
A tuck keeps what a gore cuts
A flat disc gathered into a spherical cap has more circumference than the cap, and a gore removes the excess while wet-folding stretches it away. A tuck folds it under, which keeps the sheet whole and turns the excess into thickness. At the rim of a gathered cap the paper is α ⁄ sin α sheets thick on average — π⁄2 for a hemisphere — and a simple tuck is three, so single tucks reach a cap of 130.6° before they run into one another. And because a sphere's circles fall short of a plane's as the cube of the radius, a tuck that follows the sphere widens as the cube too: its edges are curves.
Three kinds of pile
A thick-panel technique is priced at the deepest pile a pattern has, and the depth of that pile says nothing about where it is. Mapped over the folded footprint, the printed patterns fall into three kinds. On a uniform pile the deepest count is the whole footprint — sixty layers everywhere on the Yoshimura. On an island it is a patch and the rest is shallow. On a graded pile it is a sliver — under one per cent of the tapered corrugation — while nearly nine tenths is at least half as deep, and the Miura, the pattern that gets built, is graded.
A panel is not the unit of depth
A thick-panel design gives each panel a thickness, an offset or a taper, so a graded pile could be met panel by panel only if every panel's folded image lay over one depth. On the Miura none does. Every one of its twenty-four panels lies over three or four of the four depths its pile takes, and on the tapered corrugation every panel lies over all four. The uniform piles are the opposite — every panel of the Yoshimura, the waterbomb and the preliminary base lies over exactly one depth — which is why panel-by-panel techniques look adequate on the patterns they are drawn for. On the Miura the steps between depths cross the middle of panels, and they run parallel to the panels' own sides.
Crowding outward costs almost nothing
Placing the tuck starts for equal error crowds them toward the rim, where the gathered paper is already at its thickest, and the obvious worry is that the accuracy is bought with depth. Measured, it is not: on a hemisphere the crowded placement's deepest start sits in 3.37 sheets against the even placement's 3.32, because a start is three sheets of its own and the gathering beneath it is only one and a half.
Where a ring of divisions belongs
A pattern that divides the circle everywhere as finely as its rim requires is over-divided for most of its radius, because the excess grows from nothing. Putting a ring of new divisions in wherever the residual would otherwise pass what the material takes gives seven rings on a hemisphere at five per cent of stretch, at 0.35, 0.50, 0.62, 0.72, 0.81, 0.90 and 0.98 of the way out — and the first of those sits where a completely different criterion put its first tuck start.
A sheet is as large as two arms
A model's finished size is its sheet divided by the square root of its layer count, so a sixty-four-layer model at a hand's width wants more than a metre of paper. A hand-made sheet is formed on a mould somebody lifts out of a vat and shakes, and what that bounds is an area rather than a thickness: over the whole plausible range of mould weights and what arms can do repeatedly, the largest square sheet runs from about half a metre to about two. The demand and the bound are the same sizes, which is the one thing about them nobody has to know the constants to see.
The paper that will not hold a crease
Every constraint these essays have found improves as the paper gets thinner: the stack, the size, the layer count. A crease does not. A crease is a plastic hinge in the fibres at the fold, and a sheet one fibre thick has nothing through its thickness to hinge — so there is a floor under the thickness that no manufacturing skill moves, because the fibre diameter is a constant of the plant. The papers a tradition folds sit between one and a half fibres and four, and the two below that in this collection's own shelf are tissues, which are backed with foil before anybody creases them.
Eighty layers and the sheet decides the rest
Five of these essays each bound one thing and none of them bounds a design. Put together they close. The crease floor fixes the thinnest usable paper at about a fibre and a half; that paper's stack runs out at eighty layers; the largest sheet two arms can make falls away as the square of the finished size. The region under both is every model anybody can fold, and it has a ceiling at eighty layers and a corner at about a hand's width — above which the paper is no longer the limit and the vat is.
The pattern cheapest to trust
Demonstrating that a one-shot deployment will open takes a number of successful tests proportional to its hinge count, so the pattern that needs fewest tests for what it delivers is the one with fewest hinges per layer of compaction. That criterion is a count nobody computes, and computed on the printed shelf it ranks the patterns differently from crease length per layer: the preliminary base is first, at exactly one hinge per layer, and the square twist rises from seventh to fourth. As patterns are refined the difference sharpens. The waterbomb settles at 2.47 hinges a layer and the Yoshimura at 1.47, but the Miura climbs without levelling — 1.32 at two cells a side, 5.69 at eight — so every finer Miura costs more tests for each layer it adds, and the pattern that gets built is the only one of the three that gets dearer to trust as it gets finer.
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.
The deepest point pays for the paper
A folded design uses its sheet according to its mean layer count and its paper according to its deepest point, and the ratio of the two is a property of the crease pattern. Measured on every printed pattern it runs from exactly one to nearly six — and it does not split tessellations from bases, as expected. It splits patterns whose every panel lies over every point from patterns that keep a footprint with structure in it. The ratio moves the corner of the substrate map by its square root, so the fold-and-cut triangle can reach the paper's eighty layers at 326 millimetres where the preliminary base must stop at 134.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Packing ratioFolded stateLayer orderSubstrateThicknessCrease patternTrade-offConservationDesign spaceIdealisationPanelBoundary