Photos copyright © 2011 Andrew Cribb
and peaked conjurer's hat seemingly repelling the wind. A wicked black paper dragon awaits his arrival at the gates of Mordor.
There are also the tessellations, a series of "woven" paper patterns; matte forms that appear again and again as interlocking artistry, like paper pot holders.
To me, the act of creating tessellations seems maddening and monotonous. To these artists, it's their catharsis if not their vacation, escaping into the folds and away from the hard, harsh realities of the world outside.
My son, daughter and wife all walk over to the registration boards, selecting a few desired classes. I'm already pacing like a panther, staring out windows, ready to bolt - I'm a wanderer, not a folder.
The convention is populated with enthu- siasts of all ages and nationalities. What I've learned from my four years attending with my family is that paper folding can be done by most anyone, and if you'll par- don the pun, it has many layers - a truly multi-dimensional activity.
I'm thinking this as I stare out at the mul- titudes in the FIT's great hall, which also happens to be the school's vast cafeteria during the regular semester. I watch as a sea of humans sit at long and round tables, they are all hunched over and hap- pily manipulating various squares of col- ored paper. Some have tongues sticking out of mouths in concentration, others eyes are squinted nearly shut, their fingers twiddling spiderlike in front of them. They mold and fold shapes galore, simple paper boxes and nifty "picture frames,” peace cranes and a menagerie of many other "animals" - horses in gallop and cute little rabbits, a Scotty, a bear, pen- guins, beetles, butterflies and porpoises.
There are also intricate domes, interlock- ing triangular prisms, quadrilaterals and countless other paper geometry.
Some are the fantastical creations: A deli- cate representation of Gandalf from "Lord of the Rings,” he rides his mighty steed into battle; his twisted staff raised high
92 November December 2011
It is glorious summertime throughout Manhattan. I reflect on wanting to be out- side, and too, how the Fashion Institute's students may be the future arbiters of style, yet the school's name is almost oxy- moronic considering the clunky, Eastern Bloc Circa-1950s look of the buildings. It reminds me of why I never fully enjoyed my own school years: I didn't know it at the time, but I don't function well within thick walls, yellowed floor tiles and flores- cent lighting. Like the monotony of tessel- lations, the institutionalization of my soul makes me a bit batty.
My wife gives me a knowing, if not a resigned, "You're leaving now" look. I admire and respect everything about this convention. I just can't be in it right now.
Earlier in the day we had checked into what was supposed to be our home base for two nights. It is a very clean, nicely appointed property on West 28th Street. I won't mention its name because the experience turned south fast and I don't want to disparage. But the air condition- ing blew way too loud in our room, and a brisk wind gusted directly onto the beds. There is no way we'd be able to sleep through that noisy, chilly zephyr.
When I called the front desk, a staffer came up quickly and showed me three or four other rooms, but they all had the same whooshing A/C situation. "Are all the rooms like this?” I asked. The young man shook his head with resigned affir- mation. "You could always open the win- dow" he sheepishly suggested as a possi- ble cure for the sure-to-be eighty-degrees and breezeless night.
I laughed. Good luck, as well, trying to sleep with the taxi-honking/siren-wailing scream of the city at two in the morning!
I had had a good contact at the nearby Ace Hotel and made a quick call. Minutes later we were checking in.
As far removed from a cookie-cut proper- ty as can be; ultra-unconventional yet not
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