The Ultimate Pegasus

I've seen this before.

Folded by Hà Thanh Tú

And seeing it again, my mouth still drools.

Description:

Pegasus B3.0. 2002 version's shaping.Author and CP: Kamiya Satoshi.Folded by Hà Thanh Tú. From only one uncut square, 40 cm of "Dó" paper.

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26 years later.....

....It is happening, again:





3rd season premieres tonight on Showtime!

What does this have to do with an origami blog?  Not much.  Just a lone paper crane used in one of the commercials.

Previously posted here.

Who is your superhero?

"Superhero" #SuperChargedSuperMom from Jane Qian on Vimeo.

Mother’s Day after the death of a child

Related to a previous article, The Last Crane, comes this sadness on Mother's Day:

How can I celebrate this day? How can I celebrate myself? Every day I open the door to my daughter’s room, sit on her tidy bed and wonder how any of this is real. How is it possible that all I have left is her collection of albums, stones and crystals, and her closet full of untouched clothes? How long will they serve as proof that she was here on this Earth, that she was real?
As the days go by, my daughter’s proximity to me fades, the reality of her absence becomes more concrete. This would be okay if it were because she had graduated high school, gone off to college and started her life, but that’s not what happened. She stopped existing at 15. She stopped.
I don’t know how to celebrate Mother’s Day without the consolation prize given all mothers — that our babies are gone, but we have laughing toddlers in exchange, that our toddlers are gone, but we have curious, bright-eyed preschoolers in their place, that the messy, carefree days of preschool meld into the primary years, when interests and personalities emerge and blossom, giving us teenagers who are whole, unique people. The fact that our kids grow up into actual people distracts us from the pain of their fading childhood. Except, of course, if they don’t grow up.
I am two mothers now — the mother you see walking beside my remaining daughter in the all-too-real world of chores and homework and trivial things and the mother you don’t see — the mother bereft, imagining that my daughter is two steps behind me, just out of sight.
There are too many mothers like me, rushing here and there, pretending we’re fully in one world when, really, we’re in two.
I look whole and normal, but deep inside there’s an emptiness where my heart used to be. I can’t walk with my surviving daughter without imagining the shadow of her sister right beside us, rolling her eyes, glancing at her phone.
I wish I could go back to when my kids were 9 and 6, when Mother’s Day was about hand-drawn cards and breakfast in bed. I can almost smell the burned toast, taste the mint tea. Dwelling on the past is the only thing that allows me to feel something other than numbness and despair. The others who walk this path of intense grief tell me it gets better. Eventually, I’ll start feeling what I’m supposed to feel. I’ll move more fully into the world of living children. Until then, I’m as much a part of my dead daughter’s world as I am my living daughter’s.

Read the rest at WaPo.

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May issue of NOA #501

Cherry Blossom Festival last weekend in Monterey Park

Last Sunday in Monterey Park at the annual Cherry Blossom Festival.....


This is one of the first things I do in my demo, asking who in the audience has folded paper before (most people have probably done a paper glider) and as a lead in to action models.



My indoor stage demo was scheduled at 3pm on Sunday but then changed last minute to 4pm to accommodate another performer.

I've been doing this festival since 2002 or 2004.  I think it may have been my very first one and "big break" in doing things like this.  The first year I was outdoors with a booth.  I think my second year I had been given the center of the indoor gymnasium with 4 tables boxing me in.  At some point, I was asked to start doing stage demos.  That's when I had Yami and Joe with me, too.

I talk a bit about the evolution from traditional models into modern origami; including practical application nowadays into physics, sciences, and technology.  Then show off modern works of art.

My material has become such that it's growing a bit stale; but I follow a formula that I don't even need to rehearse, because I've done it so many times now.  Once I start talking about different moneyfolds, it segues into the realm of origami magic.

Us paperfolders love magic:




I'm a fungi:



After teaching Yami's banger to the group (really small crowd I thought, this year), I engage them in a "quick fold" contest for prizes:  Who can fold a banger (doesn't have to be the one I just taught) and make it pop first?





The big finish:

Seen at the Cherry Blossom Festival

Last weekend at the Monterey Park Cherry Blossom Festival, one mother was carrying this purse that was very much like a series of waterbombs:

This is wearable:

I suddenly want to make one of these:

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NOA issue #500!

Completely missed this review:

Personally, I felt pretty let down by the issue.  I had bigger hopes there'd be something more special about it; but it was mostly bleh.  Such a milestone issue...

Oh, well.

Solar-powered rotating display stand

I got a couple of these solar-powered display stands at Tokyo Central in Gardena, CA.  It doesn't work that well in medium-low indoor lighting.  Works great in general, though.

I fold Yoda with 3 fingers.  I now fold nostril holes into the model.  I haven't mastered satisfaction with the face, yet.

One of the shaping details I don't see people doing is opening out the back hood.

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The Peace of Paper in Syria

UN Refugee Agency:

“I find origami indescribably interesting,” says the 26-year-old from Dara’a in southern Syria. “It allows you to make something from nothing, and for me it relieves my stress and releases all the negative energy. It is better than a stress ball.” 

At the start of the Syrian conflict, Fadi, 26, was studying commerce and accounting at Tishreen University in the port city of Lattakia. It was here that one of his professors first introduced him to the ancient art of origami, or paper folding. But what began as a novel hobby back in Syria has since become an important part of his life in the camp. 

Fadi is one of around 80,000 Syrians who currently call the bustling Za’atari camp home. In total, Jordan is host to 658,000 registered Syrian refugees, with the vast majority living in towns and cities across the kingdom. 

Fadi was in his third year of university when the conflict forced him to abandon his studies. As the fighting moved closer to their home in Dara’a, and with his father working abroad, Fadi took the decision to move the family to Jordan in October 2013. 

“I was responsible for 14 souls, mostly women and children,”  says Fadi, referring to himself plus his nine younger siblings, mother, grandparents and his heavily pregnant wife. “I was so scared that one of them would be killed or hurt.” 

They paid smugglers to drive them to the borders of Syria, Jordan and Iraq, where they were dropped off at 5 a.m. and told to walk through the desert towards a distant hill to reach Jordan. But after hours of walking in sweltering temperatures they were surrounded by wilderness, with no food and their water all gone. 

Eventually they met some Bedouin herders who pointed them in the right direction, and they finally reached Jordan after more than 14 hours of walking. Once the Jordanian authorities picked them up, Fadi’s wife, who was seven months pregnant with twins, began to feel pain and was rushed to hospital. 

“Our twins were stillborn,” says Fadi, simply. “After that we went to Za’atari, and life slowly started again.” 

Fadi’s first priority after settling into the camp was to find work to help support his family. Having previously volunteered back in Syria at a centre for children with Down’s syndrome, he got a job as a classroom assistant on an informal education course for children run by NGO Relief International. The courses are held in the camp at a community centre funded by UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency. 

“It was then that I remembered the origami, and thought it would be something interesting and different to try with the kids,” Fadi says. The results were overwhelmingly positive, according to Fadi, particularly for those children with special needs or behavioural issues. 

“The kids loved the fact that you can turn a piece of paper into something else – a bird, or a chair. It improves their concentration and their commitment. When I give them a project, they don’t get distracted or bored, they go for it until they are finished.” 

“The biggest impact I’ve seen is with Miriam and Mohammed, two kids in the class with Down’s syndrome,” Fadi adds. “They used to have problems with their attention and aggression, but the change has been remarkable. Since they started origami last year they have something to focus their efforts on, and they are much calmer and happier as a result.” 

As well as bringing enjoyment to his pupils, Fadi also credits his hobby with transforming his life in exile. “It has made me feel like an active member of the community here, and now people in the camp know who I am. It’s given me purpose as a refugee.” 

Fadi describes the simple act of folding paper to make other objects as universal, understood by everyone who has ever made a paper plane, regardless of race or language. He dreams of one day teaching origami to refugee children in other parts of the world. “It’s something new, and I’ve seen how they respond to it. Origami breaks down barriers and gives kids hope.”

Also last summer as reported by Jin News Agency:

İZMİR - German Thomas Heinrich Schmöckel is a traveler, who has begun to make origami Peace Birds and hand them in the trees since he saw the racist and discriminatory approach against Syrian refuges in Greek Islands. Thomas writes words on the origami birds such as, "Mercy, Empathy and Love". Thomas wants to raise awareness against the war and discrimination with origami Peace Birds for Syria.  

German Thomas Heinrich Schmöckel is an activist and traveler. Thomas has carried out works for refugees in many countries, including his country. Thomas, who has tried to arouse attention of people by organizing sculpture shows in Germany, has been making origami peace birds to raise awareness for Syrian refugees. "I want to raise people's awareness by hanging them not only Syrian border but also in trees, fences, gates."
Thomas told us the countries he has visited, "First, I began to walk from Germany to Thailand in 2012. Then, I walked to Iran, it lasted three years. I had to stay in Iran for six months for visa issue. After Iran, I worked in Armenia for my project. Meanwhile, I worked in Greek Islands for the refugees. I planned to continue my march after completing my works in Greece; however, I wanted to send my Peace Birds to Syrian from Turkey-Syria border."
Thomas told us why he began to make Peace Birds for Syria, "We met Syrian refugees in Lesbos, one of islands of Greece, and we gave dry clothes and food to the refugees. We built places for refugees to stay. I tried to clean the beach for four months. There wasn't any tourist in Lesbon and people blamed refugees to stop the tourism. They were very angry at them. So, I decided to make origami Peace Birds to calm down the people by writing on them some words such as, "Mercy, Empathy and Love", handing them in the trees. And I began to carry out my project named, "Peace Birds for Syria".  

Thomas said that he wants to raise people's awareness, "Other people also can make their origami Peace Birds and write their peace messages on them. I post a video on my social media account to show how people can make Peace Birds. I hope people in different places support the project."

And a more somber story from 5 years ago:

What chance do paper birds have against tanks and guns and a ruthless determination cling onto power? Not much, of course, but the regime in Syria is apparently so scared of even this sort of symbolic resistance that it must be crushed.  

 by Talib K. Ibrahim - Radio Netherlands Worldwide 

Two Syrian sisters are behind the paper bird protest – to be exact they are origami cranes – and those two sisters have now disappeared. Friends suspect that they have been tortured or worse. The sisters – who used the artist names "Cham and Jasmine" – had been leaving the colourful folded cranes at crossroads and street corners in the Syrian capital Damascus.  

It was an artistic form of civil protest - based on the Japanese legend that whoever folds a thousand cranes will have their wishes come true. The names of people kidnapped by the regime in its fight against the popular revolt were written on the paper birds. 

Disappearance 

 The sisters disappeared themselves on August 5 – Syrian security officials arrived in a car and took them to an unknown destination. Nothing has been heard from them since. Friends fear the worst: 

 “More than 77 days has elapsed since the arrest, which means they exceeded the period at which detainees should be transferred to the court. So why haven't they been transferred yet?”  asks their friend Sami Shukri. From experience the friends and activists say that if detainees are not transferred to the court within this period then their lives are in danger. 

Campaign 

A campaign has now been launched to try and secure the release of the activists. Volunteers are folding cranes with the names of the two sisters on them to demand their release.  

”It’s a campaign based on folding origami cranes named after the two sisters, involving volunteers and groups. The wishes in legends may be a mere "myth", but in reality they carry the wish of Syrian liberation from tyranny, and freedom for all prisoners,” says Sami Shukri.  

Human rights groups estimate that tens of thousands of people have disappeared in Syria – abducted by the army, security forces of pro-government militias. 

Night lamp

I found these at the beginning of the year while shopping at Tokyo Central (formerly Marukai) in Gardena:

January 8, 2017

The last crane: On parenting a dying child

WaPo:

She took her last dose of chemotherapy the day of that last scan. We paid our last visit to the pediatric oncology clinic.

The “lasts” kept coming — relentless, heartbreaking and agonizingly final.January was the last time she was able to walk upstairs without gasping for breath.February was the last time she had the energy to wake up in the morning and go to school. 

I can’t remember the day she made me the last crane. 

She’d started folding origami cranes when she was about 11. She’d had a liver transplant and her cancer was in remission. She wasn’t allowed back to school because the risk of infection was too great. She’d been drawing a lot, doing projects, and playing with the crafts that so many people had sent her as gifts. She’d gotten some origami paper and a little booklet and folded her first crane. 

She continued making cranes throughout the years, often as a way to thank me for something (e.g., “I’ll make you two cranes if you help me clean my room.”) They’re all over the house — perched on shelves and cabinets, hanging from clear plastic thread above my computer, sitting atop the mantle in our dining room.After her last scan — the “freight train” scan — her oncologist told us her left lung was in danger of collapse and that we’d see obvious symptoms of this soon, likely within weeks. He was right but, still, I wasn’t prepared.She went from going to school three or four days a week to one or two days. She wasn’t able to walk up the path to her classroom, then she couldn’t walk more than a few steps at all without gasping for breath. Her appetite disappeared. She started sleeping more and more. On Feb. 28, she woke up and said, “I don’t think I can go to school right now. Maybe once I’m feeling better …” She never went back.

Read it from beginning to end.


Hat tip:  Joseph Wu

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Origami Vending Machine in Uchiko, Japan

Origami.Me has posted about an origami vending machine in the village of Uchiko, Japan.

Rocket News:

The unusual machine with the sweet folded paper designs is warming people’s hearts around Japan. 

 From persimmons to eggs and even noodles, we’ve seen vending machines dispense some surprising things in Japan. Now we’ve found a machine so unique it’s been featured on television and newspaper reports around the country, with even Japanese people raising their eyebrows in delight at its unusual contents.  

 Located in the rural town of Uchiko in Ehime Prefecture, this vending machine contains a range of beautifully folded origami designs. The traditional Japanese art of paper folding isn’t something you’d immediately think to connect to a vending machine, but this one proves that when the two worlds collide, the results can be simply beautiful.

Check out some comments on their FB page.

The items are said to be exquisitely folded (unlike the cheap versions of the origami magic cranes I purchased on eBay).  Done and maintained by a 61 year old resident of the village.

Looks like this young entrepreneur was onto something: