Jacques Herzog, Pierre de Meuron, and Remy Zaugg
Architectural Design v.61 n.92 1991
Marian Bantjes on the simplicity and complexity within origami:
While some artists work with twisting, crumpling and the ‘wet fold’ (a soft, draping fold made with wet paper), most employ, at least in part, linear folds that become a complex mental exercise in compaction and extrusion. These folds often either begin or end with a flat plan for the origami, called a crease pattern. Crease patterns are not instructions, in that they do not lead you through step by step, but a kind of graphic notation that can be read by other origami artists, or as notes for further development by the original artist. Beautiful in themselves, the patterns provide the structure of the origami form, and they are reminiscent of complex grid systems in graphic design. Even the most whimsical forms reveal gridwork similar to that in architecture or engineering design. These defined restraints are what give origami its challenging allure.
Full text here.
BibliOdyssey throws a lovely curveball.
Many people say my design was inspired by the sailing yachts in the harbour or by seashells. This is not the case. It is like an orange, you peel an orange and you get these segments, these similar shapes. It was like this in my models. It was not that I thought it should be like sails in the harbour. It just so happened that the white sails were similar.
A still from Larry Cuba’s Two Space.
Two dimensional patterns, like the tile patterns of Islamic temples, are generated by performing a set of symmetry operations (translations, rotations, and reflections) upon a basic figure or tile.
Two Space consists of twelve such patterns produced using each of nine different animating figures (12 x 9 = 108 total). Rendered in stark black and white, the patterns produce optical illusions of figure-ground reversal and afterimages of color. Gamelan music from the classical tradition of Java adds to the mesmerizing effect.
The appeal was obvious, the cleanly geometry, the assurances of physical ballistics, the organic richness of the wooden lanes and the mute servitude of the machines that raised the pins and swept away the fallen, above all the powerlessness and supreme, the ball held, the ball directed, the ball traveling away like a son, beyond hope of influence. A slow, large, powerful game.
—Denis Johnson, Tree of Smoke, p. 152