Tree method — where it appears
Named by 15 essays across one field — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Packing is the hard part
Once a subject is a set of circles, designing the model is fitting them into a square. That step has no general algorithm, no known optimum, and it is where every remaining difficulty in origami design now sits.
From a packing to a crease pattern
The circles say where the flaps are. They do not say where to fold, and the step in between is a construction rather than a search — two families of crease, both determined by the packing, neither of them visible in the picture of the discs.
The last free parameter
Once the packing is fixed, one number is left in the whole design: how far a leftover polygon can be shrunk before it stops being a polygon. Everything else about the crease pattern has already been decided.
The molecule that does not exist
The universal molecule fills any convex polygon, always, which is what makes it the part of the tree method with no special cases. Hand it a reflex corner and it does not produce a worse pattern — it produces nothing, and the difficulty moves backwards to whoever chose the polygons.
The flap nobody holds
An optimal packing is presented as an answer: here are the circles, here is where they go. For some numbers of flaps that is not what it is. The best arrangement of seven discs in a square leaves one of them free to wander over an eleventh of the sheet without changing the answer at all — and the algorithm reports one point of that region and stops.
Spelling a tree on a grid
Box pleating asks every limb of a design to be a whole number of grid squares, which sounds like rounding and is not. Rounding each limb to its own nearest whole number is one way to choose the numbers, and at most resolutions it is not the best way — the best whole-number version of a subject is often a coarser one, with fewer squares and a shape twice as close.
The skeleton changes its mind
The universal molecule fills any convex polygon, always, which is what makes it the part of the tree method with no special cases. It does not fill it continuously. Slide one corner along its edge and the number of creases in the molecule sits at six, jumps, and sits at seven — so two designs a hairsbreadth apart have crease patterns that are not small variations on one another.
Spending the cheap paper
A hole makes a sheet cheaper by the square inch, because a flap against its rim claims only half a disc. Whether a design can spend that was left open, because no packing search here could express a region that is not paper. It can now, and the mechanism turns out not to be the discount at all: across a hole, two flaps may overlap, and two tips three fifths of a sheet apart carry flaps of 0.500 rather than 0.300.
The corner that splits the shrink
The universal molecule fills a convex polygon by shrinking it, and at a corner that turns back the shrink does something no convex polygon does: the region breaks in two. That event can now be computed — the skeleton of a non-convex outline is available here for the first time, and it is what lets one straight cut reach a star. It does not give the molecule back, because a molecule needs the shrinking region to stay one piece and a split is exactly the moment it stops.
A base needs an edge to point at
Every flap of a uniaxial base ends in a point, and every point is made of paper that came from the sheet's boundary. A sheet with no boundary has nowhere for a point to come from, and a sheet with half a boundary can only have points at the half it has left.
Every pair, not every circle
A uniaxial base is designed by packing a circle for each flap, and the circles are not the condition. The condition is that every pair of the subject's extremities be separated on the sheet by the distance between them through the tree — which for two flaps meeting at one point is the sum of their lengths, and for two flaps across a body is more. Circles are the case with no body in it, so a design read off circles alone is promised a base sixteen to thirty per cent larger than the sheet can give.
What the condition does not decide
A tree of seven leaves imposes twenty-one separations and eight of them bind. The rest are slack, the eight pin six of the seven leaves against the sheet's own edges, and the seventh can be moved half a per cent of the sheet for nothing. The requirement that looks quadratic is doing linear work, and what it leaves undecided is the part a designer is actually choosing.
The price of a limb is not its length
Lengthening an edge of a subject's tree costs the design some of its scale, and the amount can be measured by re-solving the arrangement. It is not proportional to the edge, and it is not the body that is dearest. On a bird whose wings are twice its legs, the head — nine tenths of a unit against the wings' one and six — costs three times what a wing costs, and two edges of a lizard cost nothing at all.
A price holds until the arrangement moves
Every edge of a subject's tree has a price — the scale lost per unit of extra length — and the obvious use of a price list is to spend a fixed total of limb where it is cheapest. Done a tenth of a unit at a time, re-pricing at every step, it works and then stops: the bird's scale rises 6.3 per cent in four steps and no further. But the prices do not hold while it happens. The bird's free tail stops being free after the first tenth, and its legs nearly treble in price without being touched. The lizard's prices hold for four steps, because its arrangement keeps the same three pairs at their limit for four steps. A price is a statement about which pairs are at or near their limit, and it lasts as long as they stay there.
Rounding in the cheap direction
A tree spelled on a grid has every limb rounded to a whole number of units, and the rounding is chosen to keep the subject's proportions. Each rounding is also a small move of length between edges, and the edges have prices. Rounding the bird's dearer edges down and its cheaper ones up gives the largest model of every rounding tried, on grids of four, six and eight units — 2 to 6 per cent larger than rounding to the nearest unit, and larger than the unrounded bird itself on all three. The proportions pay for it, by five points of error on eight units and by thirty-four on six, which is the trade the grid had been making silently in whichever direction the arithmetic happened to fall.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Uniaxial baseCircle packingFlapTrade-offAxial polygonDesignOptimisationStraight skeletonConstraintDesign spaceOptimalityUniversal molecule