Who Is The Author Of The Crease?

I get a little annoyed when a perfect glossy cover gets wrecked by a crease — it’s like someone pressed a wrinkle into a mirror. For me, the biggest issue is how light behaves: glossy surfaces act like tiny mirrors and a crease is literally a change in the angle of those microscopic mirror facets. That abrupt slope shift concentrates specular highlights and creates a bright streak or dark shadow that the camera happily records as a hard line across your image. When I photograph books for my shelf shots or for listings, that line draws the eye away from the artwork and ruins the sense of continuity the designer intended. It can also blow out highlights or create loss of detail right where the crease hits printed color, so the photographed hue and saturation look wrong compared to the rest of the cover. Practically, I try to shoot with a big softbox at a grazing angle to minimize hot spots, use a polarizer if the lighting allows, and take multiple exposures to blend. If the crease is unavoidable, I do careful retouching in RAW — clone and healing with attention to grain and specular falloff — but even then it's rarely as convincing as an uncreased native cover. If the book matters to me, I’d rather reshoot with better lighting or swap out the copy than wrestle a stubborn fold into submission.

Lighting that really makes a crease pop is almost always about direction and hardness — think of a low, raking side light that skims the surface. When I’m in the booth or lurking by the wings I’ll push a narrow, hard-edged source (an ellipsoidal or a focused Fresnel with shutters) so the light grazes the fabric. That grazing angle creates a strong specular highlight on shiny fibres and a dark shadow in the fold, so the crease reads instantly from the house. Fabric matters too: satin or taffeta will flash white where the crease catches the beam, while matte wool will show a softer, subtler line. I like using a kicker or rim from stage-left or -right combined with low front fill — that contrast is the secret. During tech I always insist on a few moments with the actors in costume while I cycle the side keys; you can see the difference instantly. If you want dramatic texture, don’t soften everything with diffusion; leave one source hard and directional and the crease will tell the story, just like a costume detail in 'The Phantom of the Opera' coming alive under a spotlight.

Honestly, if you hand me a vintage poster with a soft crease I won't gasp and run—I've got a shelf full of love-worn pieces that prove condition is a spectrum, not a binary pass/fail. A faint center fold from being rolled or folded decades ago is super common, especially on one-sheets from the 1930s–1960s, so many collectors factor that into price rather than rejecting the item outright. If the poster is rare—say an original 'Star Wars' one-sheet or a pre-code 'Casablanca'—even heavy creases can be tolerated by serious collectors because rarity and provenance sometimes trump condition. That said, creases do reduce value: light creases might shave off 10–30% versus a clean copy, while deep, fiber-busting creases or those with color loss or splitting can cut value dramatically. My practical rule: disclose the crease clearly if I sell, consider professional pressing or conservation if the poster is valuable, and remember that for display purposes a crease is often a character mark rather than a deal-breaker.

it's been a bit of a wild ride. From what I've gathered, the novel isn't officially available as a PDF, at least not through mainstream retailers or the author's website. I checked Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and even some indie bookstores—nothing. There are a few shady-looking sites claiming to have it, but I wouldn't trust those; they often lead to malware or pirated copies, which isn't cool. If you're really set on reading it digitally, your best bet might be an e-reader version like Kindle or EPUB. Some libraries offer digital loans through apps like Libby, so that's worth a shot too. I ended up grabbing a used paperback because I love the feel of physical books, but I totally get the appeal of having everything on one device. Maybe the author will release a PDF someday—fingers crossed!

Honestly, the tiniest crease can sell an entire backstory in a single close-up. I love how films use creases like shorthand: a pressed, knife-sharp crease down a suit leg screams military precision or corporate polish, while faint, irregular wrinkles on a shirt cuff whisper late nights, rough journeys, or a character who couldn’t be bothered to look immaculate. Fabrics matter—linen folds and reads very differently than silk or wool—so costume people choose textiles knowing how the camera will treat them. I think of the contrast between the immaculate uniforms in 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' and the scuffed, rumpled gear in 'Mad Max: Fury Road'; each crease choice supports a whole aesthetic. Beyond storytelling, creases are practical continuity markers. A sudden disappearance of a familiar fold between shots pulls me right out of a scene. Wardrobe teams keep reference photos and even sketch where intentional creases should be; stunt doubles get their own wrinkle maps. Sometimes editors and VFX artists subtly reduce unwanted creasing, but over-smoothing risks making a character feel like a mannequin. For me, the best costumes are those that look lived-in in just the right way—creases included—because they let characters breathe and feel believable on screen.

When I look at a crease in a manga panel, I treat it like a tiny map of forces: where fabric folds, where skin tugs, where light gives up its secrets. I usually break it down into three layers in my head — the structural fold, the shadow that defines it, and the highlight or absence of tone that sells the depth. First, the fold's shape comes from the body and action underneath. A crease across a sleeve often follows the elbow or shoulder like a riverbed, curving and shortening when the arm flexes. Line weight is everything here: a thinner inner line for softer cloth, and thicker outer strokes or tapered ends to imply depth. Then I add shadow — either cross-hatching, a dark stroke, or a small screentone patch — which tells the eye whether the fold is a valley or a ridge. Finally, details make it feel real: tiny wrinkles around seams, the way stretch lines radiate from buttons or belts, and subtle highlights where the light hits the peak of a fold. I steal ideas from pages of 'One Piece' for exaggerated motion and from 'Vagabond' for more restrained realism, and I practice by folding actual shirts while sketching them from life. If you want a quick trick, draw the largest structural fold first, then erase the unnecessary lines — it keeps the crease believable without overworking it.

I’ve had maps that looked like tiny topographic novels—folded, creased, and stubborn—so I learned a couple of simple habits that stop creases before they start. First, prevent folding: whenever possible I order or print maps on heavier stock or ask for them mounted on foam core or matte board. That gives the surface enough stiffness that it won’t take a permanent fold. If you can’t get heavier stock, I roll maps around a stout tube and slide them into a protective sleeve; rolling gently avoids sharp creases and makes transport way easier. If a crease already exists, gentle humidification followed by pressing works great. I make a mini humidification setup with damp blotters (not wet) in a sealed tray, let the paper relax for a bit, then lay the map flat between clean blotters and weight it with a smooth board and even weights overnight. For on-set use, laminating or using a sheet of clear acrylic or plexi over the map keeps actors from folding it and looks clean on camera. Little tricks like hinge-taping the map to a clipboard or mounting it on a lightweight board help too—keeps continuity tidy and my stress level lower.

The Crease is one of those hidden gems that leaves you craving more, but unfortunately, there aren't any official sequels or follow-ups to it. I've scoured forums, publisher catalogs, and even asked around in some niche book circles, and it seems like the story stands alone. That said, the themes and style remind me of other works like 'The Fold' by Peter Clines or 'House of Leaves'—both have that same eerie, mind-bending vibe. Sometimes, I wonder if the author left it open-ended on purpose. The ambiguity makes it fun to theorize about, and there are plenty of fan discussions digging into possible interpretations. If you loved 'The Crease,' diving into those might scratch the itch for more. Who knows? Maybe one day we'll get a surprise announcement, but for now, it’s a solo journey.