Twist — where it appears
Named by 25 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
A shrink is two numbers
How much smaller a folded sheet gets is quoted as a single factor, and that factor is a product. Measured along each axis separately, an accordion turns out to leave one direction of the paper exactly alone, a twist draws in equally both ways, and the Miura does neither — which is the whole of what makes it a Miura.
Any tiling makes a twist
A twist tessellation is usually drawn, admired and copied. It can be derived instead: hand the construction any tiling of the plane and it returns a crease pattern that folds flat, with the twist polygons' shapes forced by the tiling's own angles and nothing left to choose but how large and how turned.
Where two twists share a pleat
Every twist tessellation the tradition draws has one size of twist, because every tiling it is drawn on has one kind of vertex. Hand the construction a tiling with two, and the pleat between a large twist and a small one turns out to fix their sizes exactly — three to one, and nothing else folds.
Fenced at both ends
The twist angle of a tessellation looks like a free dial, and it is fenced twice. Turn too far and the pleats have no paper left. Turn too little and something stranger happens: every angle condition in the subject goes on holding and the pattern loses its mountain-valley assignment entirely.
The propagation that never had to work
The twist construction carries one equation per edge of its tiling and propagates the twist sizes outward from a seed. On every tiling anybody has drawn a twist on, every one of those equations is satisfied trivially — both ends of an edge read the same two numbers, because a regular polygon has one interior angle. The construction has been running and doing nothing, and the one tiling where it did something is the one whose tiles are not regular.
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 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.
Letters that agree get rarer
Two hundred letterings drawn independently from a square twist tessellation patch, and twenty-six of them have letters that do not contradict themselves. On the next patch up it is five, then two, then none, then none. What the share falls with is not the size of the patch and not the angle of its twist: it is the number of independent closed chains its panels form, which is Euler's relation on the drawing and is fixed before a single letter is chosen.
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.
Four easy patches and one that is not
Run the same search a hundred and twenty times on each of five tessellation patches, changing nothing but the order the letters are tried in. Four of them answer in between twenty-five and fifty-three steps every single time. The fifth answers in eighty-four steps at best, a hundred and sixty-six in the middle, and does not answer at all in forty-eight runs of the hundred and twenty.
Where a sector crosses sixty
Turn the twist polygons of a tessellation patch a hundredth of a radian further and the pattern goes from having no mountain-valley labelling at all to having one immediately. Nothing about its graph changes across the transition — the same eighty-three panels, the same hundred and forty-two creases, the same four labellings at every one of its sixty vertices. What changes is which sector at a vertex is the smallest one.
A patch on a knife edge
The tessellation patch this collection prints has twelve creases nobody can see. Move the pitch of its tiling by five thousandths and they are gone — and so is a whole ring of twists. The patch sits exactly on the moment a ring of the pattern passes through the edge of the sheet, and the blemish is what that moment looks like.
A region with no lettering
One turn angle at which a tessellation patch has no consistent lettering was found by sweeping a dial. Sweeping two dials finds nine patches with none, across three tilings, filling a corner of the parameter space — and never touching the square tiling, whose sectors have no sixty degrees to cross.
The dial and the tiling that is not alike
Four of the five tilings a twist tessellation can be built on behave identically under every dial the construction has. The fifth has two kinds of vertex, and everything about it is different: it is the only one whose search has a tail, the only one whose shallow patches take minutes to draw, and the only one where a distance has to be solved rather than assumed.
What the rim was doing
One rectangle of a twist tessellation, cut out of the plane in the ordinary way, gives up a consistent lettering in forty-eight steps. Join its opposite edges so that no crease is divided and the same drawing, at the same vertices, under the same conditions, takes fifty-six thousand seven hundred and seventy-two. The edge of the paper was never the difficulty. It was the slack.
A sheet with no edge
A twist tessellation repeats, so a rectangle of it is a description of the whole plane rather than a piece of paper. Joining the rectangle's opposite sides makes that explicit and produces an object every gate in this collection can read: twenty-five drawn panels become sixteen, forty crease pieces become thirty-two, sixteen vertices are all interior, and the three counts add to nothing.
Where you cut hardly matters
Slide the same rectangle across one whole period of the same tessellation and every position gives a different patch: different creases divided, different half-panels round the edge, panel counts from forty-nine to sixty-one. The cost of lettering them runs from twenty-five steps to thirty-three. Whether a cut is made changes the answer by three orders of magnitude; where it falls changes it by a third.
The most decided vertex here
Sixteen ways to letter four creases; Maekawa allows eight; the big-little-big lemma allows four. A twist polygon's corner is one of the few vertices in this collection where the second cut applies, so it keeps four labellings where a grid, a leaf, a Miura and a crumple all keep eight — and the family the collection long called difficult turns out to be the one whose conditions decide the most.
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.
A count is not a length
Cut a rectangle out of a tessellation and it reports fifty per cent more creases than the pattern has, then twenty-five, then seventeen — converging on the truth from above and never reaching it. The crease length per unit area it reports is exact at every size, because the two halves of a divided crease add back up. One measurement survives the cut and the other does not.
A tessellation on a cylinder
A twist tessellation has been drawn here as a patch and as a torus, and never as anything in between. Gluing one pair of a cell's edges gives the family its first sheet with exactly two edges — the shape every folded tube actually has, and the only object in the collection that can say whether the rim's cost is linear in how much rim there is.
Closing the loops is not folding
The twist construction propagates one equation along every edge of a tiling, and it can only work where the equations agree round every loop. Asked which irregular tilings pass, a linear map gives a clean answer: the square grid, the triangular grid and the honeycomb pass under every shear and stretch tried, because each edge has a half-turn symmetry that makes its equation exactly one at both ends, and a half-turn survives any linear map. The rhombille passes only as drawn. But passing is not folding. On every one of those images — including the ones whose loops close exactly — the construction produces a pattern that fails the angle condition at every turn tried. The loops were a necessary condition all along, and the construction needs something the tilings' images do not give it.
One number where the corners wanted four
The twist construction gives a vertex a single side distance, and every account of these patterns does the same — it is what rotate-and-shrink means. The conditions never asked for it. Written out, the corner condition is one linear equation per pleat crease in the distances taken one per edge, so a degree-four vertex carries four unknowns against two independent equations. Given them back, the twelve sheared and stretched tilings that refused to fold all fold.
Every twist writes an equilibrium
Divide each side of a twist polygon by the length of the edge it faces. The polygon closing says those numbers, weighted onto the edges, balance at the vertex; the pleat matching says the two ends of an edge agree on the number. Together they are a positive equilibrium stress — the thing a tiling has when it is the plan of a spider web — and the construction has been writing one at every vertex without being asked for it.
The sheet draws in crooked
Every twist tessellation measured here has collapsed by a similarity: the folded sheet is the flat one scaled and turned, the same way in every direction. The patterns that exist on sheared and stretched tilings do not. Ten of the fifteen images fold by a map with two different principal factors, up to five and a third to one — and the prediction that said which ten, made from the weights the pattern writes on its edges, is wrong in both directions.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
TessellationTilingPeriodicityPleatAssignmentBoundaryCrease patternInterior vertexKawasaki's theoremPanelSearch costThe big-little-big lemma