A contradiction is even
Assumes The sheet has two sides and A proof in one pass.
Fold a sheet flat and look at it edge on. The paper goes down, turns, comes back, turns again — and at every turn the side facing the reader swaps. That is the whole content of the sheet has two sides: the panels of a flat folded state can be given one of two colours, by which face of the paper points up, and every crease joins panels of different colours.
A graph whose nodes take two colours so that every edge joins different ones is bipartite, and a bipartite graph has no odd closed chain in it. Walk out along any chain of panels and back to where the walk started, and the colour has to return to what it was — which takes an even number of steps.
So every closed chain of panels in a flat-foldable crease pattern is even, and the count is not a fact about any particular pattern.
Two gaps, two theorems
The length spectrum has a second gap and it is worth separating from the first, because they are produced by different results and each is a different check.
No odd lengths, which is the two-colouring: a closed walk that returns to its starting colour has taken an even number of steps. That is a statement about the panel graph and holds whatever the letters are.
No length four, which is Maekawa. A four-panel circle runs round a single interior vertex, and orienting a chain round one point requires the letters to alternate strictly — which gives equal counts of mountain and valley where a flat-foldable vertex needs a difference of two. So the shortest circle any admissible lettering can produce is six, not four, and six is exactly where the distribution starts.
Two absences, two theorems, one from the colouring of the panels and one from the counting of the letters. Neither is a fact about these patterns.
Which makes the spectrum a self-test
That gives the measurement a property it was not built for and which is worth more than the finding: the length distribution checks the instrument that produced it, twice, for free.
Eleven hundred and forty-nine circles is eleven hundred and forty-nine independent chances for an arc walk to mis-step. A walk that dropped a panel, doubled one, or traversed an arc backwards would produce an odd length, and one odd length in the table would be a defect rather than a discovery. None appeared.
By the ordinary rule for a zero count, that bounds the per-circle error rate at under three in eleven hundred and forty-nine — a quarter of one per cent — and at mean length around ten the per-step rate is a tenth of that.
The second gap tests something else entirely. A four-panel circle would mean a lettering that passes the vertex filter and closes a single-vertex chain, which is Maekawa failing to be enforced. Nought fours is therefore a check on the filter rather than on the walk, run over the same eleven hundred and forty-nine cases at no cost.
So the figure that reports the finding is also the figure that certifies the two instruments behind it, and neither certification had to be written. That is an unusually good arrangement, and it is worth naming because the usual complaint about a measurement like this is that nothing independent confirms it.
What that says about a contradiction
A pattern’s letters can contradict themselves. Each crease says which of the two panels it joins lies above the other, and a circle in those statements — a panel below a panel below a panel, closing on itself — is a proof that no order of the layers exists.
That circle is a closed chain of panels. So it inherits the parity for free: every contradiction has an even number of panels in it, and a circle of nine would not be a surprising discovery about folding but a defect in whatever reported it.
Eleven hundred and forty-nine circles and not one odd. The rows for five, seven, nine and eleven are not rare cases that a larger sample would populate. They are lengths the paper cannot produce.
The other empty row
The row for four is empty too, and its reason is a different theorem entirely.
A circle of four panels would be four panels in a ring, each joined to the next by a crease. The shortest ring of panels a crease pattern has is the one round a single interior vertex — a degree-four vertex has exactly four panels between its four creases — and no admissible labelling of a single vertex can send its arrows all the way round. Sending them round requires the letters to alternate strictly, an alternation has equal counts, and Maekawa’s theorem says the counts differ by two.
So the shortest circle available is six, and six is the commonest length observed: three hundred and nineteen of the eleven hundred and forty-nine, with eight not far behind at three hundred and twenty-nine. Together those two account for more than half.
The two closed rows are worth holding side by side because they are so unlike each other. Odd lengths are closed by a colouring — a property of the panel graph that follows from paper having two sides, and that would be true of a pattern with no letters on it at all. Four is closed by a count — a property of the letters at a point, established in the eighteenth century by an argument about a cross-section. Neither knows about the other, and the layer relation is where they meet.
Six, and where six comes from
The peak at six is worth pursuing, because a length that occurs three hundred and nineteen times is describing a structure rather than an accident.
A circle of six panels is a closed chain crossing six creases and enclosing more than one vertex — a circuit going round something, with two or three interior vertices inside it. The twist tessellations have exactly that shape built in at every edge of the tiling: two twist polygons joined by a pleat, and the chain of panels running round the pleat from one polygon’s ring to the other’s and back. A pleat is two creases; each polygon contributes two more panels; six.
That is also why the count of six-circles rises so much faster than the patch does. A patch with twice the polygons has roughly twice the pleats, so twice the six-circuits, and each of them is an independent chance for the letters to close one. The bigger the patch, the rarer a lettering that agrees with itself is that observation with a measurement under it.
The printed corrugations are the contrast. A Miura fold’s panels are a grid and its shortest circuits go round its degree-four vertices, which Maekawa has closed; the next shortest go round a whole cell of the grid, and there the arrows have four creases’ worth of freedom to disagree in. It produces circles of eight to fourteen, and it produces them in nineteen draws out of two hundred.
Why this is a check and not a finding
The temptation with a result like this is to present it as a discovery about crease patterns. It is better used as an instrument on the instrument.
Parity is exactly the sort of thing an implementation gets wrong. The direction of an arrow depends on the letter multiplied by whether the near panel has been turned over, and a sign error in that product would produce arrows that are individually plausible and collectively wrong. A wrong sign on one crease of a chain flips the chain’s parity — so a bug of that shape shows up as an odd circle, immediately, on the first pattern that has one.
That is why the parity is checked rather than merely observed. Every circle the machinery returns is tested for evenness where it is produced, and an odd one raises an error naming the two-colouring rather than being reported as a circle of nine panels. In eleven hundred and forty-nine circles it has never fired, which is the correct outcome for a check of this kind: it costs nothing, it would have caught the error it was written for, and it says so every time it does not.
The same reasoning applies one level up. Even is not enough established the other half of the two-colouring’s story — that a pattern’s panels can two-colour while the pattern has no folded state at all, so the colouring is necessary and nowhere near sufficient. Parity here is the same kind of statement: it constrains what a contradiction can look like and says nothing whatever about whether there is one.
A parity that is not this one
There is a second parity argument in this subject that lives one level down and is easy to confuse with this one, so it is worth separating them explicitly.
Maekawa’s count is about the letters at a vertex and its parity statement is that the degree is even: an odd number of creases cannot meet at an interior vertex of a flat-foldable pattern, because the mountains and valleys have to differ by two and their sum has to be the degree. Nothing meets at three is that argument.
The two-colouring is about the panels of the whole pattern and its parity statement is that every closed chain of panels is even. The first is local and about creases; the second is global and about panels; and neither implies the other. A pattern can have every vertex of even degree and no two-colouring at all, which is exactly what a ring with three creases across it is: three is odd, but the vertices are on the boundary and the count never applies to them.
The distribution, and what it is not
Beyond the two closed rows the lengths fall off steadily: a hundred and twenty-seven circles of ten, a hundred and forty-one of twelve, fifty-nine of fourteen, and a long thin tail out to a single circle of fifty on the rhombille patch.
It is tempting to read that shape as telling something about how contradictions are distributed. It is not, and the reason is the same one that makes the length of a reported circle a poor measure of the fault: what is being counted is the first circle a depth-first walk happens to meet, which is biased hard toward short ones. A tangle of thirty-five panels usually has a six-panel circle somewhere in it, and that is what gets reported. The tail is not the shape of the contradictions; it is the shape of what the shortest circle in each of them was.
What the distribution does say, and says usefully, is that short circles are available almost everywhere. If contradictions typically closed at twenty panels, the six-and-eight peak would be absent — a walk cannot report a circle the graph does not have. Their dominance means the circuits carrying the failure are small ones: two twist polygons sharing a pleat, or one twist polygon’s own ring.
What a folder can do with it
A parity is a poor tool for building anything and a good one for ruling things out quickly, and there is one place here where it does real work by hand.
A reader looking at a printed patch and wondering whether a particular lettering will fold has, in principle, to check every closed chain in it. Parity halves that: only the even chains can carry a contradiction, and in a twist tessellation the even chains are the ones going round a pleat or round a polygon, while the odd ones — a chain through a polygon’s ring and out across a single crease and back — are not chains at all in the sense that matters, because they cross a crease an odd number of times and therefore do not close.
That is not a large saving on a computer and it is a considerable one on paper. It is also the answer to a question a folder asks constantly and this collection has not addressed directly: which parts of a pattern have to agree with each other? The chains, and only the even ones.
Where the parity comes from, said carefully
One step of the argument deserves more than the sentence it usually gets, because it is where a reader could reasonably object.
The two-colouring is a statement about the crease pattern, before anything is folded: colour a panel by whether an even or an odd number of creases separates it from a chosen starting panel. That is well defined exactly when every closed chain of panels crosses an even number of creases — which is the same statement as the graph being bipartite, so it looks circular.
It is not circular, because there is an independent reason. A flat folded state assigns each panel a rigid motion of the plane, built by composing one reflection per crease along a path from the starting panel. A reflection reverses orientation. So a panel reached by an odd number of creases is face down and one reached by an even number is face up, and the answer cannot depend on the path, because the panel is somewhere definite in the folded object and is either face up or face down. Any closed chain therefore has an even number of creases in it.
The independence is real: the argument runs through the geometry of the folded state rather than through the combinatorics of the graph. A pattern whose panels do not close — where two paths to the same panel disagree about where it goes — is precisely a pattern for which that argument fails, and such a pattern is refused before any of this is asked of it.
And there is one shape where it genuinely fails. A ring and a line is a sheet with a hole and an odd number of creases running from the hole to the rim: the chain of panels going round the hole crosses an odd number of creases, so no two-colouring exists, and the parity argument here has no purchase. Such a sheet has no flat folded state either, which is the same fact arriving first.
The one place an odd circle would be legitimate
There is a construction here whose panels do not two-colour, and it is worth asking what the layer relation does on it, since the parity argument has no grip there.
A sheet with a cut in it is the case. A cut is not local established that separating the paper along an edge with paper on both sides is a sixth kind of assignment — not a mountain, not a valley, not a raw edge — and that it removes an adjacency from the walk over panels rather than adding one. Removing an adjacency cannot create an odd chain: it deletes chains, it does not lengthen them. So a cut sheet’s circles are still even, and for a reason that is one step removed from the colouring.
A sheet with a hole is different, and it is the genuine exception. Going round the hole is a closed chain that no vertex accounts for, and on an odd number of creases it is odd. Such a sheet has no flat folded state, so it never reaches the layer relation at all — the placement fails first, and the failure is reported as panels that do not close rather than as a circle. The parity check would fire on it if it ever got that far, and the fact that it never does is the machinery refusing in the right order rather than the parity being vacuous.
What it buys
Three things, in ascending order of usefulness.
It is a sanity check on every circle reported, at no cost, testing exactly the arithmetic most likely to be wrong.
It is a shape constraint on what a contradiction can be, which narrows the search when one is being looked for by hand. A reader tracing arrows on a printed patch knows that a promising-looking chain of seven panels is not a circle and has miscounted somewhere.
And it puts the two closed rows of that first figure side by side, which is the part worth carrying. The lengths a contradiction cannot have are settled by a colouring that knows nothing about letters and a count that knows nothing about geometry. Everything between six and fifty is the pattern’s own business; the two ends are the subject’s.
What this makes readable
Essays that name this one as a prerequisite.
Named alongside this one
Essays reaching for the same objects. Nobody chose these; they are what the concept index makes visible.
- Consistent is not foldable assignment · flat-foldability · folded state · layer ordering · necessary condition
- The first thing about layers assignment · folded state · layer ordering · maekawa's theorem · necessary condition
- Ninety-nine in a hundred pass assignment · layer ordering · maekawa's theorem · necessary condition
- The lettering that folds nowhere flat-foldability · folded state · layer ordering · necessary condition
- The letters a crumple was given assignment · flat-foldability · folded state · layer ordering
- The patterns a checker is tested on flat-foldability · folded state · layer ordering · necessary condition
What links here
The 8 essays that link to this one and share the most of its objects, of 16 that link here.
The objects this essay names
Each one links to every other essay that touches it.
AssignmentFace graphFlat-foldabilityFolded stateLayer orderingMaekawa's theoremNecessary conditionTwo-colourability