Maekawa's theorem — where it appears
Named by 40 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Two conditions at a point
Whether a single vertex folds flat is decided completely by two tests — one on the angles, one on the assignment. They are independent, they are easy to check, and together they settle the case entirely.
Why the difference is two
Maekawa's theorem says mountains and valleys differ by exactly two at every flat-foldable vertex. The constant is not empirical — it is a full turn, and the theorem is about winding rather than about paper.
How many assignments fold
The local conditions throw away most of the ways a pattern could be creased. They throw away a smaller and smaller fraction as the pattern grows, and what survives grows faster than what is discarded — which is why a strong filter is not a decision procedure.
What a checker cannot check
Every crease pattern on this site is run past four theorems before it is allowed onto a page, and passing all four proves nothing. The gap is not a bug to be closed: it is the NP-hardness result, arriving as a property of a hundred lines of code.
The name is not the date
Kawasaki's theorem is in Husimi's book ten years before Kawasaki's paper. Maekawa's is Justin's too. The mean gap between a result in this field and the name it is known by is twenty-two years, and it runs in one direction.
Found before it was designed
Crush a thin cylinder and it falls into a diamond lattice. That pattern was published in aeronautics in 1951, twenty years before anybody designed with it — and what the buckling load chose was not only the creases but the mountain-and-valley assignment, which is the part a designer gets wrong.
The same vertex, found four times
A degree-four vertex with a three-to-one assignment turns up in a buckled cylinder, in a Miura fold, in a Resch tessellation and in a crumpled sheet. It is not a coincidence and it is not influence: the flat-folding conditions are restrictive enough that a small set of vertices is nearly all there is.
The sheet has two sides
Read a crease pattern as a set of panels rather than a set of lines and a condition appears that no vertex theorem states: the panels take two colours, no crease has the same colour on both sides, and the colour is which face of the paper each panel ends up showing.
The base that tiles
The waterbomb base is the first thing most people fold and the last thing they think about. Repeat it across a sheet and it becomes a tessellation with two kinds of vertex, an assignment that has to be searched for rather than remembered, and a folded state thirty-two times smaller than the paper.
A unit that folds is not a tessellation
Of the 512 repeating rules for the waterbomb tessellation, 56 pass every condition on a two-by-two patch and 32 pass on every larger one. The twenty-four that die were never foldable — the small patch simply contained one of the four kinds of vertex the pattern makes, and the failures were at the other three.
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.
Nothing meets at three
Every interior vertex of a flat-foldable pattern carries an even number of creases and at least four. So a crease cannot stop in the middle of the sheet, three creases cannot meet anywhere, and every crease pattern in the subject ends up looking the same way — all crossings and no stars.
Even is not enough
Every vertex theorem in the subject is a statement about one point, and the two-colouring of the panels looks like the exception. It is not — on a square of paper it is a parity at each vertex and nothing more. Cut a hole and the two come apart: a loop of paper with three creases has no interior vertices at all, satisfies every theorem there is, and cannot be folded flat.
How little the conditions decide
Local is not global is a statement about sufficiency: every vertex can pass and the sheet still fail. There is a sharper complaint available, and it is about strength. Fix one crease of a tessellation and propagate every condition the subject has to a fixed point: three creases out of a hundred and fifty-eight follow, and sixty-six vertices are still holding more than one answer.
Crimp it away and ask again
Four conditions decide whether a vertex folds flat, and they decide it exactly at a vertex whose sectors are all different sizes. Everywhere else they over-count: two markings of every tied four-crease vertex, twelve of the degree-six vertex this site prints nine of on one sheet. What decides the case is not a fifth condition but a procedure — fold the smallest sector away and ask the smaller vertex.
One marking, many objects
A crease pattern with every mountain and valley written on it is spoken of as though it named a folded model. At four creases it does. At six it need not, and at the eight-crease vertex in the middle of the first base anybody folds, a single marking can be folded into four genuinely different objects — same creases, same letters, four answers.
Thickness has a sign
Swap every mountain for a valley and back again. Kawasaki does not notice, Maekawa gets the same condition the other way round, the lemma still asks the two creases to differ, and the layers come out mirrored. Every theorem on this site is blind to which side of the paper it is looking at — and a hinge in a panel with depth is not. The fold closes one way and jams at nothing at all the other.
The dial that decides nothing
Turn a twist tessellation's angle from one fence to the other and every measurable thing about it changes: the smallest sector goes from 88 degrees to under one, the pleats swallow a quarter of the sheet and then almost none of it, the folded footprint changes by a third. The number of ways it can be creased does not change at all — sixteen, at every angle tested — because the lemma reads which sector is smallest and never how small.
The order decides the count
Ask how many mountain-and-valley letterings a vertex admits and the answer looks as though it should depend on the angles. It does not. Three of the four conditions never see an angle at all, and the fourth asks only which sector is smallest — so the count is a function of a combinatorial arrangement, and a walk round the cycle that never looks at a vertex reproduces it exactly.
The vertices nobody checks
Every figure on this site is gated on four conditions evaluated at every interior vertex, and the word interior has been carrying the whole sentence. On the printed patterns there are 105 vertices on the edge of the paper against 92 inside it, not one of them has ever been examined, and the condition that decides them has been available since the second phase of the collection.
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 ring and a line
A vertex has a certain amount of paper at it, and the paper either closes round or it does not. Holding the sectors fixed and changing only that: the ring has twice as many letterings to choose from and folds in a quarter of them, the line has half as many and folds in seven-tenths, and cutting a ring open has never once cost a lettering.
The loop a vertex cannot close
A crease pattern's letters can contradict themselves, and the contradiction is never local. Enumerate every mountain-valley labelling of a single interior vertex at degree four, six and eight — a hundred and fifty pass every condition the subject has — and not one of them sends its panels round in a circle. The one labelling that would is refused by Maekawa, alone: Kawasaki holds on it and so does the big-little-big lemma.
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.
The rule that breaks the count
The waterbomb tessellation has five hundred and twelve repeating rules for its letters and thirty-two of them fold. A hundred and twenty of the other four hundred and eighty send four panels round in a circle — the shortest circle a crease pattern can have — and every single one of those hundred and twenty has broken Maekawa's count at the very vertex the circle goes round. The theorem that closes the shortest circle, caught doing it, a hundred and twenty times.
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.
Which condition does the refusing
A search for a lettering carries five conditions: developability, Kawasaki, Maekawa, the big-little-big lemma, and the demand that the arcs the letters force have no circle in them. Run it on five tessellation patches and count what makes it take a letter back. The four everybody checks refuse nothing at all. Every single backtrack is the fifth.
Sixty-four rules, sixteen fold
The Miura fold's letters are usually given as a recipe: rows one way, columns changing at every row. Write down every rule of that shape — the letter on a crease depending only on which row and which column it is in — and there are sixty-four. Sixteen fold flat. They are exactly the ones whose columns change at every row, the row letters do not matter at all, and every one of the forty-eight refusals is the counting theorem's alone.
The loop is in the rule
Of the forty-eight repeating rules that do not fold a grid corrugation, thirty-eight send four panels round in a circle and ten merely fail the count. Which is which can be read off three of the rule's six bits, without building the pattern, folding it or walking a single arrow — and the closed form agrees with the arrows on all sixty-four rules of both grid families.
Where a rule can close a loop
Three corrugation families have repeating rules whose letters send four panels round in a circle, and one has none at all. The one that has none is the one whose vertices are all of degree six — and the reason is that a straight line through a point carries a single letter under any repeating rule, while a strict alternation round six creases needs the two halves of that line to differ.
Half the recipe is decoration
Every account of the Miura fold gives its letters as two instructions: the rows go one way, and the columns change letter every time they cross a row. Enumerate all sixty-four repeating rules and the second instruction is the whole of the condition — all four ways of writing the rows appear among the sixteen that fold, in every combination. The first instruction has never constrained anything.
The leaf's rules are the Miura's
A plicate leaf packs into a corrugation that is broad in the middle and narrow at both ends. Enumerate every repeating mountain-valley rule it admits and the table is the Miura fold's table, rule for rule, number for number — and it stays that table when the leaf is redrawn with even columns, a violent taper, taller rows or a steeper zigzag. The plant's geometry cannot reach its own letters.
The order that is its own mirror
Trying a mountain first and trying a valley first are two different searches, and on a hundred and forty-two crease patterns they cost the same number of steps — not on average, not nearly, but identically, pattern for pattern. The reason is a symmetry of every condition the subject has, and it is four lines long.
Ninety-nine in a hundred pass
A designer checks a box-pleated pattern the way every text teaches: vertex by vertex, counting mountains and valleys, watching the smallest sector. At sixteen divisions that check passes a hundred letterings in a hundred, and one of them folds. The check that separates them costs a single sweep over the crease list and is in no recipe anywhere.
The lettering that was proved impossible
A search closed its whole tree on a glued square tessellation and reported that no mountain-and-valley assignment of it is consistent. Written onto ordinary patches of one, four and nine periods and handed to the four vertex theorems and a folded sheet rebuilt from scratch, the assignment it says cannot exist passes every check, on four tilings, up to fifteen hundred creases.
The band that needs an odd number
A Möbius band is the first sheet in this collection with one side, and the consequence is sharper than a reversed parity. Mountain and valley are defined relative to a side, so on a sheet with no consistent side a crease has no letter — and Maekawa's condition survives the loss while the assignment it is about does not.
A theorem with an unstated hypothesis
Maekawa's and Kawasaki's conditions are quoted everywhere without saying which sheet they are about, and they do not need to be — they are conditions at a point and every point is the same. The two-colouring is quoted the same way and it is not a condition at a point, and the omission there is not harmless.
A recipe needs degree four
The Miura's letters are taught as a recipe of same-and-differ clauses, and the recipe is exact: the sixteen repeating rules that fold are precisely the rules two clauses allow. The Yoshimura's twenty-six cannot have such a recipe, because twenty-six is not a power of two. The waterbomb's thirty-two is a power of two and still has none — its clauses allow sixty-four rules and half of them fail. The difference is one vertex: at degree four the counting theorem leaves a parity, and at degree six it leaves 'not all alike', which no clause of that kind can say.
Two sentences for the Yoshimura
No recipe made only of same-and-differ clauses picks out the Yoshimura pattern's twenty-six folding rules, because its vertices have six creases. A recipe allowed one other kind of sentence does, and it is short: an even number of the four zigzag classes are mountains, and no course carries the letter all four zigzags share. That is three clauses, one parity and a prohibition for each of the pattern's two kinds of vertex, and it allows exactly the twenty-six. The waterbomb tessellation, with four kinds of six-crease vertex, needs three parities and only two prohibitions, because its parities do half the prohibiting.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
AssignmentKawasaki's theoremThe big-little-big lemmaNecessary conditionLayer orderingParityRepeating ruleVertex degreeCorrugationLayer orderDegree-fourFlat-foldability