I’m rereading Ian Sansom's “Paper: An Elegy”. This time I’m struck by yet another teenage boy’s dismal and tragi-comic experience of origami in 1970s Britain (see also David Nicholls and Don Paterson) and another appearance by Robert Harbin. From chapter 10, A Wonderful Mental And Physical Therapy:
“Harbin was a conjuror who had become fascinated by paper folding as a kind of trick or show... on television he would simply sit at a table, address the camera familiarly and directly, and talk you through the making of a model, step-by-step. He made it sound easy. Watching Harbin I think I realized that paper folding was in some profound way about making things smaller and simpler, and as a teenager I perhaps had the sense, like a lot of teenagers, that I myself wished to be smaller and simpler, to be able to disappear almost, to enfold and enclose myself and to become something different, and of the essence. Unfortunately, although I had Harbin’s book as a guide, I soon discovered that there was no actual origami paper to be had in Essex in the 1970s. Indeed, in our house, there was hardly any paper to be had at all. My father would occasionally smuggle some A4 sheets home from work, and I would cut these down into squares, but it was too thick and too white to be able to make satisfactory models. I eventually found that carbon paper was much better for folding, except that it left your hands blue-black; so throughout the mid-1970s I fought a long and lonely battle with paper, attempting to fold mucky, flimsy dolphins, and birds, and dogs, and weird little pointless boxes. I never could do Harbin’s turtle.”
#origami @origami #magician