Thickness — the series
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The sheet has a thickness
Every crease pattern describes a surface with no thickness. Everything anybody builds has some, and getting it around a corner is the central problem of turning origami into hardware.
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Getting thickness round a corner
There are half a dozen ways to build a fold in a panel that has depth, and the useful way to arrange them is not by what the cross-section looks like. It is by what each one gives away.
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Panels with somewhere to go
Every way of giving a folded panel real thickness costs something. Tachi's offset-panel technique costs the least interesting thing there is — it stops the panels being a surface, and leaves the hinges exactly where the zero-thickness pattern put them.
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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.
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The pile, not the panel
Every technique for building a fold out of panels with depth is drawn, described and priced at one crease between two panels. A folded model has two layers nowhere except at its last fold: the printed patterns here reach eight, sixteen, thirty-two and sixty, and the length a thick panel has to find at those creases is not the published allowance but fifty-nine times it.
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Thickness round a closed loop
Real panels have thickness, and every technique for accommodating it works by shifting a hinge off the ideal crease by a small amount. On a flat sheet the shifts accumulate outward and end at the edge. On a closed sheet they accumulate round a loop and have to come back to where they started, which is a condition none of the techniques was designed to satisfy.
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Three kinds of pile
A thick-panel technique is priced at the deepest pile a pattern has, and the depth of that pile says nothing about where it is. Mapped over the folded footprint, the printed patterns fall into three kinds. On a uniform pile the deepest count is the whole footprint — sixty layers everywhere on the Yoshimura. On an island it is a patch and the rest is shallow. On a graded pile it is a sliver — under one per cent of the tapered corrugation — while nearly nine tenths is at least half as deep, and the Miura, the pattern that gets built, is graded.
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A panel is not the unit of depth
A thick-panel design gives each panel a thickness, an offset or a taper, so a graded pile could be met panel by panel only if every panel's folded image lay over one depth. On the Miura none does. Every one of its twenty-four panels lies over three or four of the four depths its pile takes, and on the tapered corrugation every panel lies over all four. The uniform piles are the opposite — every panel of the Yoshimura, the waterbomb and the preliminary base lies over exactly one depth — which is why panel-by-panel techniques look adequate on the patterns they are drawn for. On the Miura the steps between depths cross the middle of panels, and they run parallel to the panels' own sides.
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The slant that stacks in one depth
A folded Miura's rows lie exactly on one another, and its columns each lie one step along the folded strip from the last, so the pile at any point is the rows times the number of column images over it — on average two over the sine of twice the slant. When that number is an even whole number the pile is one depth everywhere but the ends: two columns deep at 45 degrees, four at exactly 15. When it is odd the pile stays mixed, because neighbouring columns lean opposite ways. The printed Miura at 20.05 degrees sits beside the odd count three, and its graded pile is that and nothing more; at 15 degrees the same single-freedom mechanism stacks every panel away from its ends over one depth.
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The slant belongs to the line
A corrugation's columns pile 2h ⁄ (w sin 2a) deep a row — twice the row height over the column's width times the sine of twice the slant — so a tapered corrugation at one slant piles its narrow columns deeper than its broad ones. The slant looked like a property of the whole pattern. It is a property of each zigzag line: at a corrugation's vertex the row creases are one straight line and the zigzag leans the same amount either side of upright, so the angles pass Kawasaki's condition whatever each zigzag's own lean. Leaning every zigzag for the columns beside it takes a 24-column leaf taper from 55 per cent of its footprint four deep a row, at the best single slant, to 62, and cuts the part piled deeper than four from 22 per cent to 3.
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Parallel creases forgive every lean
A corrugation graded so its tapered columns pile evenly leans every zigzag line its own amount, and the question left was whether it still folds rigidly on the Miura's one freedom. It does, and it could not have failed to. With straight creases that are parallel, a zigzag reflecting in them keeps one angle to them all the way along, so the table of cosines that decides rigid folding has a constant in every row whatever the leans. The published rule that such rows must be copies of one another holds only when the straight creases fan. What grading costs is the shape of the motion: the zigzags close at their own rates, the strip bends up to 24 degrees out of its plane early in the fold, and the leaf opens from its ends.