AS his childish fingers moved over the pieces of traditional joss paper, feverishly folding papers for his family to burn handcrafted offerings for the dead during the Hungry Ghost festival, the little boy soon got bored of the relentless routine.
The seven-year-old stopped folding the paper as instructed by his mother, and started adding embellishments to his creations. "What if I folded this end… or tweaked this side?" he wondered, fingers still moving over the paper. "Eh, you cannot do that!" scolded his startled mother when she discovered his 'innovations'.
"You cannot burn those. They'll (the irate ghosts) come and kacau (disturb) you and you'll get sick!"
"But when a seven-year-old folds the same thing over and over again, you can be sure it'd ignite his imagination to create other things with paper!" recalls 48-year-old Kenneth Ch'ng, chuckling heartily.
That little boy was him, and little did he know then — at the age of seven — that the tireless bout of paper-folding during the inauspicious month of the Chinese calendar would unlock a fascination which would flame his passion for origami.
The idea of turning a piece of paper into remarkable creations fascinated him as a boy. "My mother learnt the craft of origami from my grandfather and taught me what she knew. I learnt how to create a bird but you know, as a child… I possessed macam-macam kreativiti! (all sorts of creativity)" he recounts, grinning.
"How do you add horns? How do you turn it into something else?" he pestered her with questions then. "I don't know! Go find out yourself!" his mother would respond exasperatedly.
"I was hooked!" exclaims Ch'ng, adding: "You could take that same piece of paper and create so many different things. That made me sit back and think 'wow!'"
His uncle later gifted him with a book on origami when he turned nine. Turning over the pages, he grew even more entranced with the ancient art that proved that magical transformations aren't just tangible — they can be executed by anyone with just a bit of practice. And with a little bit of practice and a lot of paper ("I folded everything… including toilet paper!"), the young lad made up his own designs as he went along.
When Ch'ng's parents couldn't afford to buy the young boy the superhero figurine he wanted, he'd borrow the figurine from his friend and create his own toy out of paper. "Mine was better," he insists, grinning. "Because it was made out of paper, my figurine was more pliable and could move its arms!"
Continuing enthusiastically, he adds: "Imagine the unlimited potential that opened up to a young child; of creating things from an ordinary sheet of paper by just a few deft folds and gentle pulls."
He lets that thought sink in for a few seconds before adding: "I knew then that I wanted origami to be my full-time job. My parents thought I was crazy!"
Face creased in a happy smile, the youthful-looking man with salt and pepper hair is seated amidst scores of intricate original origami creations currently on display at the GMBB Mall.
The founding president of the Malaysian Origami Association had since established an academy as well as a movement of sorts comprising origami enthusiasts, who have put their own unique "Malaysiana" twist to the artform that had hitherto been linked to the Japanese culture.
The origami exhibition, on the 3rd floor of the artisan mall, features 80 pieces of art made by 11 artists from Malaysia, Japan, South Africa and Vietnam.
Despite the diverse nationalities, all exhibits proudly showcase distinct Malaysian flavours — from the Jalur Gemilang, our first Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman, the local king of fruits, the durian, Malaysian kuih-muihs and snacks right up to quaint mosques, village houses and local wildlife.
ANCIENT ROOTS
At a glance, the modest exhibition might be easily overlooked. After all, the artists' paper creations are mostly small; all neatly arranged on plain tables, with small signages offering some information about the piece and the artist.
The artists (two of whom are Ch'ng's students) have used carefully calculated folds, pleats and colour to create the art pieces. "Each of them is folded from one piece of paper with no cutting and no glue," reminds Ch'ng of the artform's zeitgeist.
The ancient art of paper-folding (zhezhi in Chinese and origami in Japanese) can be impressive to viewers of all ages. But no less impressive is the mathematics behind origami. The origamist-mathematician may be unique in exploring a contemporary branch of mathematics that is as tangible and physical as the geometry of the ancient Greeks.
As anyone who has folded a paper crane knows, there's a unique pleasure in working with a flat sheet of paper and through folding, creasing, tucking, and other manipulation, transforming it into something quite magical. The material, at once pliant and rigid, allows the mind to reason with abstract geometry in a way that cannot be replicated through other means.
While most people would associate the art of origami with the Japanese culture, Ch'ng says that the ancient art didn't originate from the land of the rising sun. "Origami may be a Japanese word but this paper-folding method really originated from the ancient Egyptians," he reveals, adding: "An ancient Egyptian map, which was discovered in the Nubian Desert, has been dated to approximately 1150 BC which became quite well-known to origami artists worldwide."
That Egyptian map is interesting for an enthusiast like Ch'ng because — ancient though it is — it's folded in the same manner as a modern road map. Although it may not be mainstream origami, the Egyptian map is the earliest known example of folding that has so far come down to us, whether in the east or in the west.
It's admittedly not folded from paper as we commonly know it today, and for this reason some may not consider it to be true paper-folding. But it's made from papyrus, which is the material the ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans used in the same way we use paper today.
"At the time of discovery, we were looking at this piece of technology we had no knowledge about," he shares. "Scientists realised that this folding sequence couldn't have been done randomly. After analysing it, the unlimited scientific potential was startling. This folding sequence was eventually replicated in important creations like the Hubble telescope, solar panels, airbags and much more."
How did the Japanese make that art their own? I ask. "Let me explain that," he begins, adding with a grin: "Luckily I'm also into history!"
An Imperial court official during the Han Dynasty created sheets of paper from mulberry tree fibre. Early forms of paper had existed in China since the second century BC, but his standardisation of the process and improvements to the general composition helped make paper able to be widely used as a writing medium.
"But this secret was locked within the Imperial family for 600 years because paper was considered more precious than gold," shares Ch'ng.
The Chinese paper technology was eventually brought to Japan by monks during the sixth century. Handmade paper was a luxury item only available to a few, and paper-folding in ancient Japan was strictly for ceremonial purposes, often religious in nature.
By the Edo period (1603-1868), paper-folding in Japan had become recreational as well as ceremonial, often featuring multiple cuts and folds. It came to be regarded as a new form of art that was enabled by the advent of paper, both mass-produced and more affordable.
Written instructions for paper-folding first appeared in 1797, with Akisato Rito's Sembazuru Orikata, or "thousand crane folding". In 1845, Adachi Kazuyuki published a more comprehensive compilation of paper-folding with Kayaragusa. By the late 1800s, the term for paper-folding had morphed from orikata ("folded shapes") to origami ("folding paper").
RISE OF THE PAPER FOLDER
His passion is evident as Ch'ng grows more animated with his stories. Yet his parents, he admits, wasn't supportive initially of his intent to make this artform his life passion. "You can't make money from this! Go study and earn a degree first!" his father told him.
Ch'ng went on to earn his electrical engineering degree in the US. "I spent most of my time in the libraries reading up on origami!" he confides, adding cheekily: "I barely scraped through to get my degree."
He eventually returned to Malaysia and found work in a semi-conductor manufacturing company, where he remained for 15 years. "Did you enjoy your engineering work?" I ask, curious. He winces at my question before wordlessly replying with a shake of his head.
The best part of his job, he tells me frankly, was when he got posted to Japan for almost eight years. "The first thing I did was visit their famed origami museum where I met Akira Yoshigawa," he recalls, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Internationally recognised since the 1950s, Yoshizawa was credited with elevating a children's pastime into a serious form of figurative art. He was known both for his innovative folding techniques and for devising a notation system that made origami instructions universally accessible.
Usually inspired by the natural world, his work was praised for its simple, elegant lines and striking animacy. In his hands, flat sheets sprang to life as the birds of the air, the fish of the sea and the flora and fauna of the earth.
"He was one of the few artists who believed in sharing his knowledge as much as possible," he tells me.
Ch'ng met the ailing artist a year before he passed away. "When I told him that I was an origami enthusiast from Malaysia, he told me: 'Good! You make it so that everyone will know!'"
His advice to Ch'ng lent wings to his passion that had long been put aside. "You know how Japanese culture is," he says wryly, adding: "They're workaholics!"
Still, he'd fiddle around with his origami creations whenever there was time to spare, but he admits that because of his punishing schedule, these creations were never documented. "I was struggling in a life I never wanted for 15 years," he admits.
Yet, it was during his time in Japan that Ch'ng's interest in origami grew deeper. "I learnt there's more to origami than just folding paper into pretty shapes. I began amassing knowledge to teach origami because I strongly believe learning this craft will benefit everyone, especially children," he explains.
The Fukushima earthquake in March 2011 was the sign he needed to change his life and pursue his passion. "I was in Penang then, but my wife and child were still in Japan!" While people were busy making a beeline out of Japan, Ch'ng made the trip to the beleaguered country to reunite with his family and get them to safety.
It was quite a harrowing experience to be stuck in the country and trying to find available flights. Hotels were fully booked, as were flights. Ch'ng and family sought refuge in a temple. "The tremors we felt were frightening. Any one of those could have escalated into another full-blown earthquake," he recalls, adding: "I finally confronted my inner struggles and realised that life wasn't all about amassing wealth."
When he finally returned to Penang, Ch'ng decided to take the plunge and set up an origami studio — Cherry Art Studio. "People thought I was crazy to leave a well-paying job for this," he confides, chuckling. "One of my ex-bosses was aghast to see me manning my little foldable table at a bazaar in Penang that was located next to a garbage bin!"
But there was no turning back for Ch'ng. He soon went on an exhaustive search to gather origami enthusiasts scattered around the country and formed the Malaysia Origami Association in 2014, dedicated to educating the public about the art form. "Origami's influence on art and society is by no means restricted by national boundaries," he stresses.
From religious practice to artistic innovation, the craft of paper-folding has become a substantial aesthetic medium in its own right; one that has influenced everything from architecture to footwear.
In Japan and around the world, Ch'ng says that origami artists are increasingly attracting the attention of prominent gallery owners and private collectors who are commissioning pieces that sell for thousands of dollars. "There's a bright future ahead for this," he says, smiling.
Today, Ch'ng has given up designing origami patterns and is bent on teaching the next generation of origami artists the finer nuance of the ancient craft. The Penang-born soon opened the country's first Origami Academy in Kuala Lumpur to do just that.
"I love the fact that origami artists range from five to 100, and there's no age limit on doing it," he enthuses, adding that young people who delve in origami will develop artistic acumen and mental endurance as they learn to create something that's intrinsically complex yet breathtakingly beautiful.
"My passion has evolved," he declares, adding: "Teaching has been very fulfilling."
For the bookish man, his journey has come full-circle. After all, it began with a woman teaching her curious seven-year-old how to fold papers as an offering to the deities of the Hungry Ghost month.
Kenneth Ch'ng is now more than willing to pass the baton along to the next curious child with macam-macam kreativiti!
Warisan Kebudayaan Malaysia Origami workshops will be held on October 4 and October 18 at GMBB Mall in Jalan Robertson, Kuala Lumpur.
For details, go to www.origamiacademy.com.my.