Akira Yoshizawa, Japan's Greatest Origami Master - Akira Yoshizawa

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      Every system of folds is a mathematical object with a component of physics, to which

       is added the important element of nature with her laws. Every single crease made by a fold possesses its own particular function.

      I wish with all my heart that appreciation of the kind of origami invented and disseminated by the master, this type of artistic sculpture created in paper composed of soft vegetal fibers, will continue to become ever more widespread in the future.

      Kiyo Yoshizawa, October 2014

      Issunboshi or Little One-Inch, the Japanese Tom Thumb character in a popular fairy tale, fighting an ogre, displayed at the exhibition Akira Yoshizawa: The World of Creative Origami, Sano Art Museum, Mishima, 2014.

      INTRODUCTION BY ROBERT J. LANG

      Akira Yoshizawa:

       The Father of Modern Origami

      Akira Yoshizawa is considered by many to be the father of the modern origami movement. At first glance, one might wonder why this would be so. After all, origami is an ancient art within Japan, and we find examples of paper-folding in many other ancient cultures, even in the Americas over a thousand years ago. Yoshizawa-sensei was certainly not the only Japanese artist creating original designs in the mid-20th century. It is fair to say, however, that he was by far the most influential origami artist. By the end of the 20th century, origami had become a worldwide passion and an art of astounding diversity, with active societies and creative artists in many countries on nearly every continent. If, however, you trace the origami lineage of any given artist—who they learned from, who they were inspired by—while their roots may be manifold and diverse, the deepest roots lie within the Japanese folding art, and the majority of those roots pass through the work and inspiration of this man.

      Robert J. Lang

      PERSONAL REMINISCENCES

      I first learned of Yoshizawa in my childhood via English-language origami books, which described him as the grand master of origami, showed a few of his simpler designs, but hinted at additional remarkable, unbelievable artworks whose instructions, infuriatingly, did not appear anywhere. Hints were there in the photos, though. His great opus, Origami dokuhon I, which I eventually acquired, showed folding instructions for a simple horse, but accompanied it with a photograph of an incredibly detailed and lifelike horse, along with a caption that said something along the lines of “with a little bit more folding, you can make something like this.” Throughout my own origami development, Yoshizawa was the semi-mythical, somewhat mysterious ideal to aspire to.

      In 1988, I had the incredible good luck to meet him for the first time. He came to New York for the 10th anniversary celebration of the Friends of the Origami Center of America (FOCA, which was the American origami society whose predecessor, the Origami Center of America, was founded on the model of Yoshizawa’s International Origami Center). I had the opportunity to organize a panel discussion on origami diagramming standards. As here was the man who had invented origami diagramming, we leapt at the chance to invite him. He spoke for about 20 minutes on a wide range of topics, not just diagramming. In fact, what seemed to matter most to him was one’s mental attitude, one’s entire approach. He spoke of character, of natural qualities, of having one’s “spirit within [the artwork’s] folds.”

      Yoshizawa at Origami USA’s panel discussion, 1988.

      I had the chance to meet him again in 1992 when I was invited to address the Nippon Origami Association at their annual meeting in Japan. During that trip, my hosts arranged for me to meet several origami artists, including the great Yoshizawa, this time at his home and studio. This was not an easy thing to arrange, but through the skillful negotiations of my host and guide, Toshi Aoyagi, an audience was arranged, and presently I was ushered into the inner sanctum where Yoshizawa greeted me, grinning, and then proceeded to show me box after box, drawer after drawer of the most extraordinarily folded works I had ever seen.

      And then, finally, I got a glimpse of what set him apart from other origami artists. He showed me the same figure, a nursing she-wolf, folded two different ways. The first was folded in what one might call a conventional style, that is, the way every other origami artist in the world would have folded it. It was not terribly complicated. It had all the right “parts” (head, legs, tail, etc.) but no more. And then he showed me the same design, folded his way. It was, indeed, the same basic design, but through a combination of dents, bumps, wrinkles and molding of the paper he had captured the subject fully. I could see not just the features of the animal, I could see its personality as well. He was not just controlling the folds of the paper, he was controlling every aspect of the paper. He was controlling what happened between the folds.

      As is well known, throughout his life Yoshizawa struggled for support and recognition. By the mid-1990s, though, Yoshizawa’s place in the origami world was well established and he was visibly comfortable being around other folders. He knew he was the ‘elder statesman’ of origami. He did not have to worry about his legacy. And so he relaxed and enjoyed the accolades and invitations that came his way. In 1998, artist Eric Joisel organized what was then the largest international exhibition of origami ever held, in the Carrousel du Louvre, a commercial exhibition space across from the underground entrance of the Louvre proper, and Yoshizawa was one of the honored guests at this exhibition. He was joyous as he walked around the space, and positively sparkled at the attention from origami aficionados spanning multiple generations.

      HIS LEGACY AND IMPACT ON ORIGAMI

      Akira Yoshizawa almost single-handedly defined the 20th-century art of origami, and while his contributions were many, two in particular stand out to me.

      Yoshizawa and a young fan.

      First, he broke out of the largely static repertoire of traditional designs and established a culture of development of new figures and, with it, the never-ending quest to capture the inner spirit of the subject. This act essentially set the modern art of origami on its present course. Yes, there were others in Japan and elsewhere who sought to create new figures in the early part of the last century. But no one conveyed this approach to the world more effectively, in part, simply due to the value of publicity, but even more, because the works themselves displayed a beauty and life that lifted origami out of the realm of mere playthings and into a true art form.

      His second, and perhaps more long-lasting contribution, was the code of instruction that he developed—the arrows, dotted and dashed lines that we now take for granted. Again, others had developed ways of expressing origami instruction, but Yoshizawa’s system was so clear and compelling that it and its derivatives have become the standard for the worldwide dissemination of origami. The use of distinct lines for mountain and valley folds—similar to that of Uchiyama—is, perhaps, the most striking element of his system, but I think that something else turned out to be equally important—the use of distinctive ‘action arrows’ to indicate out-of-plane motion. Prior to Yoshizawa, most origami diagrams were static from step to step. Only with Yoshizawa (and after) do we see the full flow and movement that takes one step to the next, all the way to the finished figure.

      When I was a young folder, eager to make my mark, FOCA co-founder and origami artist Alice Gray told me about her encounter with Yoshizawa at which he showed her his cicada, and he remarked that it had taken him over 20 years to design! “Hmmph!” I thought. “I don’t need no 20 years to design a cicada!” And I sat down and designed one, which I became very proud of, so proud that I put it in my first book. But after a few years, I began to perceive its flaws: the body wasn’t quite right, the wings weren’t positioned properly, the legs looked too generic. So I set about to design another. “Now,” I thought, “I’ve got it right.” But presently that

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