Origami Ornaments

Origami is the ancient Japanese art of paper folding. It is meditative and calming, a perfect mindfulness practice as well as just a fun way to create lovely gifts and decorations. We'll make some holiday-themed decorations that are perfect for the tree, hanging from a string of lights or attached to a gift or card.

Kerrin will teach at least three patterns, so you will go home with three amazing models created by you! Colorful origami paper and supplies will be provided.

Let me know what you think!

Kerrin Piché Serna

Owner

The Eternal Flame Candles

"False idols for true worship"

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It’s Only Paper

You start with a perfect square. It is clean, smooth, unblemished paper. Then you bring edge-to-edge or corner-to-corner, line it up just so and make the first satisfying crease. On to the next fold and the next…and at some point you realize something is not lining up. Somewhere your perfect model went slightly askew. That’s where us perfectionists have to take a breath and remind ourselves that it’s a practice, a lesson in patience.

And it’s only paper.

The art of Origami, for people with perfectionitis, is bittersweet. Bitter because perfection is hard to attain in anything, even in paper folding. Sweet because there are moments of satisfaction between the first crease and the last, tiny surges of joy when paper behaves the way you want it to. You focus your attention on the color and texture, and the completion of one step after another. Then the flower opens, the wings spread, and perfect or not, you have made something. It can live forever under a glass dome, dangled from a string or pressed into a book, or it can get crumpled up and thrown in the trash without tossing away anything of real value. You can just slide another sheet of paper out of the pack, maybe a different color this time, and try again.

Origami has been a meditative art form for thousands of years in Japan. You focus your attention on the small world inside one square of paper, and you narrow your focus to the even tinier world of one fold, one moment in time. You transform something from one thing into another. It can be a meditation or an escape or a museum-quality art piece. Or you can look at it as a craft, a charming decoration for your home, a party favor or a gift. Or maybe you do it just because it’s fun to make things. All of those possibilities are in that fresh square of paper.

I was about six years old when my Grandma Opal showed me how to make my first origami crane. Her house was full of rainbows – paper flowers, animals, complicated modules and ornaments. She had bookshelves full of origami books. We sat at her kitchen table, light streaming in from her backyard through the sliding glass doors. She took her time with each fold, never in a rush. I watched her soft, wrinkled fingers, elegantly manicured, carefully creasing the paper into new shapes. Sometimes perfect, sometimes not. It didn’t really matter. She called it her therapy.

We made black cats and witches and Santas and Easter bunnies. We made every kind of animal and spent whole afternoons struggling with intricate modular patterns. We got the biggest rolls of butcher paper we could find and experimented with making huge, oversized stars and flowers. We made tiny, lighter-than-air birds and attached them to earrings. Later, when we were both a bit older, we attended monthly meetings of the Origami Club, held in someone’s garage-turned-craft-room. We taught each other our favorite new designs and ate cookies and folded paper for a happy few hours on a Sunday afternoon. We might come away with some pieces to display or frame or make into hanging ornaments. But mostly our creations sat in a box. Opal called it her therapy because it was a time to enjoy the moment and take her mind off her troubles, not because she wanted to achieve a certain level of expertise. It was an activity she could do in the presence of friends, with people she could talk to and laugh with. An occupation of the hands and mind that was satisfying but not too hard, like playing cards. If a fold was coming out wrong, she didn’t get frustrated. She laughed her bright, funny laugh and started over. There was always more paper.

If you want to take it as far as it can go, paper folding can get really tough. There are pieces of origami art that are so intricate and complex that they are more sculpture than anything. That’s one way to do it. It takes practice. But you can also fold paper for the sheer joy of making something.

I still see her fingers carefully running a crease, placing an edge against another edge, gently flattening the layers. When she’s done those fingers have touched every centimeter of that piece of paper. The finished model will get its own spot on her already crowded glass shelves. Another piece of paper, another moment of peace.

Maybe the next one will be perfect. But if not, it’s only paper.