Local move — where it appears
Named by 9 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Walking between two foldings
The letterings a vertex folds in are always counted and never navigated. Counting says a generic degree-six vertex has eight of them; navigating says that changing any two creases turns any one into any other, and that changing two neighbouring creases does not — and that the vertices which come apart are the ones with no coincidences in them, which is the opposite of what every other measurement here would suggest.
The creases that cannot move
One vertex's foldings are always joined up. A pattern's are not, and the number of pieces they fall into is exactly two to the power of the number of creases with an interior vertex at each end — four on a square twist, six on a hexagon twist, none at all on a preliminary base. The creases a local change cannot reach are the creases that never reach the edge of the paper.
A cut is a licence
What a cut buys is usually described in words — freedom, release, a shape a fold cannot reach. It can be counted, and the unit is vertices. Cutting one crease of a square twist turns two interior vertices into vertices no theorem applies to, and the share of letterings the pattern admits goes up by a factor of two for each vertex released: exactly, on every cut tried.
The pieces without the list
The letterings a pattern folds in fall into pieces no folder can cross, and the count was found by writing every lettering down — which stops at eighteen creases. The Miura has thirty-eight, the Yoshimura eighty-six, and the number of pieces can be read off the drawing without listing anything: four million and two hundred and eighty-one million million.
Nothing slides past anything
A marked strip has several legal stackings and this site has counted them at length. Nobody asked whether a folder holding one can reach another by lifting a flap over its neighbour: five hundred and sixty of six hundred and seventy-two stackings have no such move at all, and whether any exists depends on the parity of the segment count.
The decision a crumple has taken
A sheet crumpled at random satisfies every condition in the subject, because it just folded. It also wrote itself a lettering — one of very many the pattern admits — and it is now in a piece of that space it cannot leave: at six folds a crumpled sheet carries thirty-nine buried creases, which is half a million million million pieces, and every change it admits stays inside one of them.
A cut is not local
Cutting one crease of a square twist takes its letterings from sixteen mutually unreachable pieces to two. The cut crease is one of the four that were settled when the pattern was drawn — and it takes two others with it, because the vertices it releases were the far ends of those. Even a cut along a crease that was never settled quarters the count.
Thirty-two rules, thirty-two pieces
The waterbomb tessellation's surviving repeating rules fold to one object — same panels, same places, same areas. Put them in the space of letterings the patch admits and they occupy thirty-two different pieces of a quarter of a million, so no two of them can be reached from one another without unfolding the sheet.
Every move leaves the verdict
The only change a folder can make to a lettering without breaking it is to push one vertex through, flipping two creases at once. Try every such move on five tessellation patches, from two different letterings each: nineteen of two thousand nine hundred and sixty-four survive the conditions, and not one of the nineteen turns a lettering that agrees with itself into one that does not, or the other way about.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
AssignmentBuried creaseFlat-foldabilityBoundary vertexThe big-little-big lemmaCrease patternCrimpingKirigamiLayer orderingMaekawa's theoremConfiguration spaceConnectivity