Introduction
Organic life is full of folds. Our bodies are folded and curved, as are our organs such as lungs and intestines. Molecular and biological sciences have unveiled geometric folds across length scales, from tissues and cells to protein molecules. One method scientists have employed to visualize these beautiful structures is origami. Recent advances in physics have demonstrated that many of these folds are emergent properties, with tissues or proteins optimizing energy by conforming to a particular structure
Methods
The art installation will consist of seven paper objects, each a 3D origami structure. The paper used for creating these origamis will range from 200x200mm (square cut out of a notebook with 70gr paper marked with a 4x4mm grid). We will display these objects in 140x140mm plexiglass boxes. The boxes will be hand-labeled to indicate the object represented and its characteristic length.
Results
To represent the different organic structures at various scales, I considered existing origami models and connected them to visually similar objects. I chose objects of different scales and was also mindful of using different origami styles.
I used the following objects, listed in ascending order of size:
- Amino acid chains (1nm)
- DNA helix (10nm)
- Nuclear pore complex (100nm)
- Actomyosin filament (1 micron)
- Cell (10 microns)
- Blastocyst (0.1mm)
- Intestinal tissue (1mm)
I selected a combination of different origami techniques, ranging from modular origami for amino acid chains and blastocyst, to crumpling technique for the cell. I also employed curved creasing and tessellation techniques for the nuclear pore complex and intestinal tissue, respectively.
To illustrate the folds geometrically and provide context, I opted for plain notebook paper with a 4x4mm square grid. This choice makes the artwork relatable and fosters a unique connection with the audience.
The smallest object in the list represents a group of amino acids that can combine into various forms of functional proteins. I used Magic Circle origami to create this representation. With the modular origami style, I used eight pieces to form a flat disc, hole, pyramid, or line, depending on their arrangement. This model is twistable and adaptable, much like real-life proteins. I drew inspiration from computational chemists who create different protein structures using the same elements but with varying levels of folding. I found a useful reference for this on the Arizona State University webpage. Tutorial: https://askabiologist.asu.edu/venom/protein-folding
Slightly larger than proteins, DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) is a polymer composed of two polynucleotide chains that coil around each other to form a double helix. This structure is quite popular in the origami science community, as it can fold, twist, and be compacted into a small area, just like DNA. During my master’s study, I discovered this origami model, which led me to dive deeper into the origami world. You need to have across-valley folds to produce a twist. With patience, you can make a super long structure, too. Tutorial: https://youtu.be/0jOapfqVZlo
The nuclear pore complex is closely related to my work. I collaborated on a paper about transport through these nuclear pores. Interestingly, they function like mesmerizing spiral holes, opening and closing like a camera aperture. I connected this to the origami flasher, where stretching the origami leads to unfolding through rotation. This is a great example of a curved crease object. Its dynamic opening and closing reminded me of the nuclear pore function, leading to active or passive transport. I used Jeremy Shafer’s origami flasher to create this object. Tutorial: https://youtu.be/sSAmYVAONIo.
My work, which relates to the actin cortex and cells in three-dimensional tissue, inspired most of my ideas. I chose to reproduce actomyosin filaments, cell surfaces, and blastocysts.
Actomyosin filaments are key components that maintain cell shape. They act as active springs and generate forces leading to shape changes in cells and tissues. Thus, I represented them with an origami spring by Jeff Beynon. This model requires twisting the structure, making it a little challenging, but with persistence, you will eventually master it. Tutorial: https://youtu.be/aul0SzPVsls
For the cell, the cell surface is highly dynamic, and the membrane can deform in countless ways. Interestingly, when we stretch cells in the lab, they appear to stretch significantly. This is because cell membranes have reservoirs that unfold when the cells are stretched. The most incredible examples of this are dendritic cells, which are known to have the largest surface area. I used a novel origami technique, pioneered by Vincent Floderer
Blastocysts consist of cells arranged in a sphere. Similar to a ball, the internal pressure leads to cell stretching. This structure closely resembles a soccer ball. I am familiar with observing blastocysts with fluorescently labeled cell membranes. Thus, I decided to represent this structure with the classic buckyball shape, Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome, which has 60 carbon molecules arranged in regular pentagons and hexagons. In our case, these polygons represent cells in the blastocyst. Creating a modular origami model with 60 equilateral triangle pieces is quite time-consuming, but the outcome is truly impressive! Tutorial: https://youtu.be/CqTlOftVh6Y
Lastly, the intestinal tissue is not directly connected to my work. However, in my lab, we are interested in understanding tissue folding, particularly why intestinal tissue folds the way it does. The iconic paper on this subject, published by Shyer
I reported the dynamic nature of these structures in a following twitter thread: https://twitter.com/onenimesa/status/1629964785394524162?s=20
Conclusion
This art project, inspired by various organic structures and their representations through origami, showcases the intricate relationship between science and art. By employing diverse origami techniques and styles, I have managed to visually demonstrate the inherent beauty and complexity of organic matter. This installation not only serves as an artistic expression but also fosters a connection with the audience, encouraging them to appreciate the fascinating world of molecular and cellular structures. As we continue to explore the depths of science, we must not forget the creative power that bridges disciplines, inspiring us to seek new ways of understanding and interpreting the world around us.
Memories
I recently had the opportunity to get involved in an incredible project when my friend Ona introduced me to Pep Vidal as part of the Biennal Ciutat i Ciencia program. This biannual event celebrates science throughout the city of Barcelona, with artists and scientists organizing various activities. I was familiar with the program pre-COVID and had attended some fun games, quizzes, and talks held in parks and bars. This time, thanks to Pep, I had the chance to participate in the event.
Pep is an artist and physicist who had given a talk at my institute’s PhD retreat, which I unfortunately missed. He sought volunteers for a collaborative art project, and since I have a keen interest in origami, Ona thought I would be a good fit.
Feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension, I attended the first meeting. Due to my thesis and work commitments, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to give the project my all. Nevertheless, I decided to give it a shot. At the meeting, I encountered like-minded young people who shared my passion for creating art. Funnily enough, most of them were from my lab, while two were from outside my institute—one wanted to incorporate music, and the other was interested in colors. For me, it was clear that my contribution would involve origami.
Pep inquired if I understood Catalan, and I confidently replied that I did. I told him I would speak in English while he could continue in Catalan. However, during subsequent meetings, after spending 10 hours in the lab and running on an empty stomach, understanding Catalan became incredibly challenging for me. Despite the language barrier, the idea for the art project was crystal clear in my mind.
I initially envisioned the art installation to consist of 16 paper objects: eight 3D origami structures and eight flat (2D) sheets representing the same origami structures, but attached to the wall. The flat sheets would be crumpled and marked, indicating previously made folds or cuts, and would include a short picture or description of the real organic object. The paper used for making these origamis would range from 841x841 mm (square cut out of A0) to 74x74 mm (square cut out of A7). We planned to arrange the 2D sheets in a row of increasing size and hang the origami structure in front of the corresponding sheet.
However, this plan failed due to the length scale involved. I thought the paper size would change exponentially, but decreasing the size tenfold proved difficult. The length of the A0 short side is 841 mm, and I imagined the smallest thing I could fold would be 1 mm. With this, I could only create four structures:
841 > 84.1 > 8.41 > 0.841
If I did it by area, the smallest area I could work with would be 1mm x 1mm. Starting with A0 at 841mm x 841 mm, the sides would progress like this:
841 > 265.9 > 84.1 > 26.6 > 8.4 > 2.65 > 0.84 > 0.26
Biological objects don’t scale this reasonably. My initial idea was to go from a hydrogen atom (around 100pm) to intestinal tissue (about 1 mm). I needed to fill the gap between them with structures that scaled by an order of ten and determine if they could be represented with origami. This was getting too complicated, and I had moments of panic. I considered using bigger paper than A0, such as plotter printer paper, which measures 1067 mm and costs 25 EUR.
Another problem was that the paper size didn’t relate to the size of the folded object. We only knew the size of the folded structures, so we had to extrapolate the paper size. Additionally, we needed to think about the information to be provided to people and how to explain the structures.
This situation was overwhelming, and I was dealing with too many things at once. I considered quitting, but then I thought that I should at least try to make some of the structures first to see how they looked. So, I used my notebook, cut out a piece of paper, and started folding. I decided to talk with Pep about my concerns, but I wanted to go to the meeting with some prepared objects to show that it was possible.
I immediately realized that creating the structures would be very time-consuming when I folded the blastocyst, which took me three hours! In the end, I managed to make the structures before the meeting and showed them to Pep. Pep loved them right away and advised me not to create new ones, explaining that the notebook paper had a higher artistic value than the nicer paper. He suggested placing the structures in plexiglass boxes, which worked out great. In the end, I was quite happy with how the structures turned out.
It was quite an experience making all these objects. I had some confusion about certain objects, but I managed to get them close enough. After everything was ready, during the last week before the exhibition, we had a meeting to discuss the placement of the objects and the venue. Pep informed us that it would be held at CCCB Teatre, a cool and hip contemporary art museum in Barcelona. He also mentioned that we would participate in a roundtable discussion, where he would join online since he had to travel to Madrid for another exposition. He assured me that it would be easy, as we would know all the questions in advance, and I could speak in any language I wanted. The session would be moderated by Lluis Nacenta, and we would need to set up the exhibition at the museum the weekend before.
Working with professionals in this setting was eye-opening. We looked at the space, a large area on the first floor with an auditorium next to it. People would see our artwork when leaving the talks or heading to the restroom. It was fascinating to observe the professionals behind the artists, handling logistics, tables, fixtures, and cables. They suggested placing my work on a large black table with the boxes spread out according to the size representation of the organic matter.
My concern was how the roundtable discussion would unfold. Among all the participants, I was the only non-Spanish speaker, and my Catalan level was equivalent to a five-year-old child. We had a meeting to discuss the topics of the roundtable, which Lluis said would involve three broad questions: what do you do as a scientist? What art did you make? How does art connect to science for you? The call was in Catalan. Enrico, an Italian participant, mentioned that his Catalan was terrible, so he would speak in Spanish. I took this opportunity to admit that my Catalan was terrible as well, and my Spanish was non-existent. Lluis said that he would translate for me, but I should try to speak Catalan.
A day before the roundtable event, after the installation, I discovered that there would be no translation, and I would have to speak Catalan. I thought I could prepare a statement in Catalan and recite it in front of the audience, then remain mostly silent or provide short English replies that could be easily translated. I couldn’t work at all that day. I stayed home and wrote a script in Catalan, attempting to memorize everything, but my brain couldn’t retain all the content.
I decided to just go with the flow and see what would happen. Either way, it would be fine. Upon arriving at the venue, I was impressed by how cool it looked, and the artwork was displayed beautifully. A stage manager guided me backstage, where I met the other speakers. They explained everything, including how the event would work and how to hold the mic. As some of the speakers grew nervous, my own nerves started to kick in. I tried to calm myself down by reminding myself that it was just a random roundtable discussion on the internet and in Catalan. I drank some water, used the restroom, and put on my game face as they ushered us to the stage.
The roundtable discussion began with Lluis introducing everyone, starting with the online participants – Pep and Enrico – who were connected via video. Then it was Ona’s turn, and she eloquently explained her work in the lab and her artwork. Soon, the attention shifted to me.
With bright lights shining in my face and around 50 people in the audience, I could see familiar faces like Judith, Sergi, and some people from my institute’s communications department. My nerves were overwhelming, and my hands were incredibly sweaty as I held my script. I was genuinely afraid. As I began speaking, I fumbled my words right away – a terrible start. I couldn’t read the paper in my hand, as it would have looked awkward. So, I gave up on the script and decided to go freestyle, speaking without concern for grammar or coherence. Once I found my flow, I managed to convey my thoughts and even crack jokes.
I think I spoke quite a bit, and at the end, I apologized for my poor Catalan. Surprisingly, the audience responded with a hearty round of applause. Someone even told me my Catalan was beautiful. I remained quiet and let the discussion continue. It turned out to be an engaging conversation, and with the confidence I gained earlier, I could answer audience questions and comment on others’ responses. Even though the questions differed from what we had planned, I felt confident and satisfied. The event flew by, and I was incredibly proud of myself for managing public speaking in Catalan. You can watch me on youtube:
After the talk, many people congratulated me on my performance and complimented my Catalan. Funnily enough, several older individuals approached me speaking Spanish. The experience was quite strange but rewarding. In the end, we all went for drinks at a nearby bar, and I felt content, knowing that I had successfully completed the project.