I’m making embossing lines in paper to help me fold a complex pattern. The ruler is a little wavy. There are 24 vertical lines and 96 diagonal lines. There is a tense feeling in my left elbow from keeping the ruler in place. I’m listening to John Berger talk about writing, life, art, and philosophy.
Berger is calm and thoughtful. He doesn’t hesitate to hesitate. He pauses, sighs, and speaks with a degree of unmatched humbleness.
This is what I do at 11:19 p.m. on a Sunday.
The pre-folding is finally done. I’m not keeping track of time, of how long it's taken me to make this pattern, but my best guess is that it’s taken 27 minutes.
Time to actually fold.
I’ve been folding for an hour now. I’m nearly done with the pattern.
The folds get easier as I go on. The final row of folds fall into place with ease. It is surprising how a series of diagonal and vertical folds produces a curve. The paper seems to naturally curve smoothly on its own. An interesting manipulation and even curiouser effects. I’m sure a mathematician could explain it, but I was never good at math other than logic and basic geometry.
I crumple tracing paper into a ball, take it apart then recrumple it as tight as I can. I carefully unfold it then recrumple it a final time. I’ve made a web of folds. Each intersecting with each other in a complex network of tiny valleys and mountains. When I create strong ribs by creasing the paper, it naturally curves without me even attempting anything.
I repeat my creasing and the paper becomes curved and I create a spiral. Why does it do this?