Modular Origami

I don't exactly know the first time I did origami; it was probably sometime in kindergarten. I'm not even sure what the first model I folded is, although I'm guessing it is some kind of animal. However, I remember that the thing I most enjoyed (and still enjoy now) about origami is that you can turn a piece (or sometimes many pieces) of paper into almost any recognizable object you want just by making some folds. Even though I have always enjoyed folding origami, I never seriously started thinking of it as a hobby until subbie year. 

When I was in seventh grade, my younger brother, Akash, became obsessed with origami. He had found a book of origami birds and, being a naive eight-year-old, the first bird he tried to fold was the most difficult, good-looking bird in the book, namely, the hummingbird. He often struggled to understand the complex diagrams full of creases, dashed lines, and arrows galore jumping around a square. When one of the steps befuddled him, Akash would ask me for help. I was no expert at origami, and I would often also have a hard time trying to understand how to get from one step to the next. After grappling with many diagrams, I slowly began to understand how to do the different folds.          

Working by himself and occasionally asking me for help, Akash folded one avian species after the next and quickly became bored with single sheet origami. But then he found another book, called "Modular Origami Boxes." This was my first experience with modular origami. As usual, my brother would ask me for help when he got stuck, but this time, I was particularly interested in helping him. To fold a modular box, you must fold a certain number of units and then join them together. The completed units looked very strange to me at first. It was hard to believe that they could be smoothly connected into such beautiful patterns that looked like just one piece. This mysterious new art form seized my attention.

One unit, or module, for the lid of a hexagonal box.

During summer, I pored over the book and folded all the boxes at least once. It wasn't easy. My first box looked like a smushed pancake. Folding the units was alright, but joining them was a pain, especially if the units were not exactly identical or there were slight folding inaccuracies. Making origami boxes has really taught me the importance of precision.

An octagonal box

After boxes, I moved on to folding various three-dimensional shapes. I enjoyed making these as well, but they required many sheets of paper, lots of time, and an enormous amount of patience. I wished I had four hands while joining them, so I mainly just stick to folding boxes now.

A dodecahedron

This summer, in search of something new to fold, I added another branch to my origami ventures: kusudamas. The word literally means "medicine ball" in Japanese, but it's basically a ball made of several identical shapes glued together. "But using glue is cheating!" Yes, I know. There is a way to make a kusudama without using glue, but that is very complicated and involves using pins to hold the pieces together while joining. Anyway, I chose to make a flower ball because it seemed relatively simple and doable for beginners. My kusudama is made of twelve, five-petalled flowers and requires sixty sheets of paper to construct. I'm not sure how I managed to fold the same pattern sixty times without losing my mind, but the finished product was a nice room decoration, so it was worth it.  

Flower kusudama

Last year, I expiremented again and taught a modular origami boxes class for Agora days. I plan to teach the class again this year, but was wondering what people would actually like to learn. I helped people make boxes because they don't require much time compared to other models, are relatively simple to join, and use only a few sheets of paper. Hopefully the class will be enjoyable!