I was never any good at dancing. Not that kind of dancing that earns you respect in a disco. Back when discos mattered. I couldn’t breakdance, I got nervous, self-conscious and embarrassed. Then I would quickly slink back into the crowd to allow for the demagogues to take over. I hated that.
I like slow dancing. For one, it is a lot easier on your nerves. And somehow, a calm song, maybe even a pretty girl to share the dance with. The melody just seeps in through the seams and takes you away. Try it some time, it will probably do you good.
I find origami to be a perfect parallel to dancing. The simple yet good models are geometric and a joy, regardless how plain they seem. There is just this beauty of immersing yourself in the harmony.
As you become more and more complex, several branches appear. You can continue the flowing movement, entranced in the rhythm of the paper. You can do more brisk movements, feeling more alive and under pressure, but usually coming off well. And then there are the times when you are giving it all you can, you are moving faster and the room is spinning around you, but it’s so fascinating, and doing it properly earns the respect of most of the crowd around you. You are charged with the energy of the room, completely instinctual. So you drink in what you have done. And you like it. You are now the Man, you are the Boss. So you start a new, more sophisticatedly choreographed style. You are in your zone. But then you notice that you just barely stopped from tripping yourself. And now your suit seems to be restraining you. Before you know it, you lose balance and are down for the count, trying to remember what happened. In your rush to be the greatest, you paid no heed to your limits and have made a fool out of yourself, and you got dirt all over your fancy clothes.
Some models are pure joy to fold, very well thought through and achievable with almost any kind of paper. Then there are those which you have to sometimes mush a little into shape to keep up. And then there is the next level, where anything even remotely prone to rip or too thick will not do. And even such perfect paper needs close attention to prevent being ruined.
The choreographers and dancers are the designers and folders. Sometimes a pretty dance is just a calm waltz. Sometimes it is a devil’s tango, twisting, spinning, turning every which way. Only the elite can even approach it.
It should also be noted that depending where you are standing, something may be ingenious or merely clever. How well you can dance is also a huge influence.