“Origami appealed to the same aesthetic which created the tea ceremony, which one scholar has described as “essentially a worship of the Imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life…”
— Kakuzo Okakura, The Book of Tea
So there’s a bit of backstory I need to give you before properly starting (and I don’t think my brother will hate me too much for telling you.)
He took a girl out on their first date the other week and—in an unprecedented display of romanticism—folded a paper tulip for her, tulips being her favourite flower. A live bouquet, he found, can run upwards of fifty dollars a pop, so he decided to make his own. And the original plan had indeed been an entire paper bouquet, but alas, origami tulips are frustratingly time-consuming. He even had the yellow bloom waiting for her on their table when they arrived at the restaurant.
“What’s this?” she apparently asked as they sat down.
“Uh, it’s a tulip. I made it.”
“Why a tulip?”
“It’s your favorite flower.”
“Grant, I’ve told you before…I like lilies.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as he told me the story—and I laughed again yesterday as I walked through the damp streets of Brighton.
I’d been invited down for another blogging meet-up with Propellernet, a travel and fashion online PR agency, as well as the Thistle Brighton hotel. Although our barbeque on the beach and drinks in the Thistle penthouse were certainly highlights of the visit, I looked forward to having a second full day in Brighton to explore more of the city with good friends Jayne of 40 Countries Before I’m 30 and Justin of 48 Hour Adventure.
It wasn’t until I started back to the station that I came across an unexpected sight: tucked away from the rain in the alcove of a shop, a bearded man in a thick, woollen sweater sat on a blue blanket spread over the bricks—folding origami. I have no doubt the vibrant colors of his creations would have caught my eye anyway, but it was the garden of paper lilies facing out to the street that had me smiling to myself.
His name was Michael and he told me he’d been doing origami for twenty years—“Since I was eleven,” he said with an obvious wink of the eye.
“And 60% of these are my own designs.”
I glanced back at him, expecting another wink, but he wasn’t kidding this time. As I looked closer at his creations, I realized that hidden amongst the lilies and paper cranes were a number of unusual animals—robot-like octopi, something that could have been a camel, and a horse reared back on his hind legs.
“I thought the ones in the book were too flat,” he said, stapling a tail to another horse that would also help it balance. “So I just started making up my own.”
I was fascinated—not just by this character who asked me his own set of questions about U.S. policy on space travel and whether “America’s thoughts are on earth or in space,” but by the splash of color and life his original designs had brought to an otherwise overcast day.
Finally I asked him what it was about origami he loved so much.
Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “Meditation.”
And then perhaps thinking of his own question about America, he added, “All my thoughts go into the paper.”
Ah yes, this chap is a well known character around Brighton. Love his stuff. I think he’s been saving up for some travelling or something.
Awesome! I love how people like him and other street artists really become such a recognised part of a city’s fabric. He was hilarious to chat with, wish I could’ve talked to him longer. Can’t wait to see where his travels lead him 🙂 Thanks for the comment!
Oh this brings tears to my eyes. Did you buy one? Please tell me you did! 🙂
Aww 🙂 Thanks, mama. I gave him a bit so he wouldn’t mind me snapping a photo (or ten) but decided not to risk letting his beautiful creations get squashed on my ride home! Wish you could’ve seen them.