What looks like Baroque paintings are, in fact, underwater photographs in Christy Lee Rogers’ new “Muses” series. By photographing her models underwater at night, Rogers creates a unique, almost dream-like atmosphere that owes its effect to the interplay of light and water. The billowing fabric and chaotic motion come from the water itself, and the dramatic lighting relies on the reflection and refraction going on between the water and its surface. (Image credit: C. Rogers; via Colossal)
When cavitation bubbles collapse, they can produce temperatures well over 2,000 Kelvin. Since cavitation near a surface can be so destructive, researchers have long wondered whether the high temperatures inside the bubble can be transmitted to nearby surfaces. A new set of numerical simulations provides some insight into that process. The researchers found that collapsing cavitation bubbles raised nearby wall temperatures in two ways: bubbles that were further away sent shock waves that heated the material, and nearby bubbles could contact the surface itself as they collapsed.
Heat transfer requires time, however; this is part of why quickly dunking your hand in liquid nitrogen and pulling it out likely won’t damage you. (Still, we don’t recommend it.) The cavitation bubbles could only transmit these high temperatures for less than 1 microsecond, which means that most materials won’t actually heat up to their melting temperature. The researchers did conclude, however, that softer materials exposed to frequent bubble collapses could show localized melting under the barrage. (Image credit: L. Krum; research credit: S. Beig et al.)
Aerosols, micron-sized particles suspended in the atmosphere, impact our weather and air quality. This visualization shows several varieties of aerosol as measured August 23rd, 2018 by satellite. The blue streaks are sea salt suspended in the air; the brightest highlights show three tropical cyclones in the Pacific. Purple marks dust. Strong winds across the Sahara Desert send large plumes of dust wafting eastward. Finally, the red areas show black carbon emissions. Raging wildfires across western North America are releasing large amounts of carbon, but vehicle and factory emissions are also significant sources. (Image credit: NASA; via Katherine G.)
Antibubbles are peculiar and ephemeral creations. A bubble typically encloses a gas within a thin layer of fluid. As the name suggests, an antibubble does the opposite: it’s a thin film of gas enclosing a liquid droplet within a larger background liquid. That thin gas film makes antibubbles extremely delicate. Disturb it at all – as the thinning jet at the top of the animation above does – and that film will break apart, much like a soap bubble. To see more antibubble action, check out some of our previous entries, including antibubbles in a vortex and a simple way to create antibubbles. (Image credit: C. Kalelkar and S. Phansalkar, source)
You’ve seen it a million times. When you turn on your kitchen faucet, the falling water forms a distinctive ring – known as a hydraulic jump – in the bottom of your sink. First described by Leonardo da Vinci, this phenomenon has been studied for centuries, and, for nearly all of that time, scientists assumed that gravity played a major role, even in kitchen-sink-sized hydraulic jumps. But that’s not the case.
A newly published study shows that gravity can’t be a major player in setting the radius of these small-scale hydraulic jumps because they form the same whether the jet impinges from above, below, or sideways. Instead, the researchers found that surface tension and viscosity are the parameters that determine the jump’s formation. It’s not every day that you get to overturn a centuries-old theory in physics! (Image credit: J. Kilfiger; research credit: R. Bhagat et al.; via Silicon Republic; submitted by Patrick D.)
Have you ever wondered why it is that fish in a pond or lake don’t freeze during the winter? The secret is due to a peculiarity of water that’s vital for life here on Earth. In general, cold things are denser than warmer ones. This is why, for the most part, cold fluids tend to sink and warmer ones rise here on Earth. So as fall moves into winter and water near the surface of a pond cools, it sinks. But only to a point.
Water is at its densest at 4 degrees Celsius. Any colder and the water will actually expand and become less dense. This is why you can’t fill ice cube trays to the very top before putting them in the freezer. In the pond it means that buoyant convection shuts down at 4 degrees Celsius. When the water at the top keeps cooling down to the freezing point, it doesn’t sink. Instead, the fish and other pond life get to spend the winter at a chill – but not freezing – 4 degrees. (Video credit: A. Fillo)
One of my favorite aspects of fluid dynamics is the way that the same patterns and phenomena appear over and over again – sometimes in the most unexpected places. That’s the theme of my new article in American Scientist, which focuses on the connections between our daily lives and the stars:
“Solar energy arises from nuclear fusion reactions in the core, but that energy is buried hundreds of thousands of kilometers beneath the surface, and most of the Sun’s overlying gas is nearly opaque; it hinders light from passing through, like a blanket thrown over a flashlight. Clearly the Sun does shine—but how? For the answer, you can simply go to your kitchen, fill a kettle, and flip on a burner.” #
Click-through to read the full article. (Image credit: N. Sharp, Big Bear Solar Observatory, J. Blom, NASA/ESA, J. Straccia, NASA/JPL/B. Jonsson)
Nearly every lab has a magnetic stirrer for mixing fluids, but this ubiquitous tool still holds some surprises, like its ability to unexpectedly levitate. Magnetic stirrers consist of two main parts, a driving magnet that creates a rotating magnetic field, and a bar magnet – commonly referred to as the flea – that is submerged in the fluid to be stirred. When the driver’s rotating field is active, the flea will spin at the bottom of its container, keeping its magnetic field in sync with the driver.
But if you place the flea in a viscous enough fluid, the drag forces on the flea can pull it out of sync with the driver’s field. Above a certain speed, the flea will jump so that its field repulses the driver’s. That makes the flea levitate as it spins. Depending on the interplay of viscous and magnetic forces, that spin can be unstable (left) or stable (right). The researchers suggest that this peculiar behavior could help artificial swimmers propel themselves or lead to new methods for measuring fluid viscosity. (Image and research credit: K. Baldwin et al.; via APS; submitted by Kam-Yung Soh)
Large-scale rotating flows, like planetary atmospheres, tend to organize themselves into zones. Within a zone, flow remains essentially in an east-west direction and serves as a barrier that keeps heat or other elements from mixing from one zone to another. This is, for example, how the tropical trade winds work here on Earth.
Stars, on the other hand, don’t show this kind of zonal behavior. The reason, it turns out, is their magnetic fields. When there’s no magnetic influence, even weak shear in a rotating flow is enough to start organizing turbulent fluctuations and grow a zonal flow. This tendency toward growth is known as the zonostrophic instability. But when you add a magnetic field, instead of organizing the hydrodynamic disturbances, that weak shear strengthens the magnetic ones, which in turn suppress the flow fluctuations. As a result, the hydrodynamic disturbances cannot grow and no zonal flow forms.
Researchers think this mechanism can explain both why stars have no zonal flows and just how deep zones can penetrate inside the atmospheres of gas giants like Jupiter and Saturn before their planet’s magnetic field suppresses them. (Image credit: NASA; research credit: N. Constantinou and J. Parker, arXiv; via LLNL News; submitted by Stephanie N.)
When you swirl wine, you create a rotating wave that travels in the direction that you’re moving the glass. You would expect that anything floating atop that fluid would travel in the same direction of rotation. But it turns out, for a large, thin raft floating atop the rotating fluid, that’s not the case.
Above you can see a swirling container, rotating counter-clockwise, with a raft of foam. This is from a timelapse where only one photo is taken per rotation, so that it’s easier to see how the foam is rotating relative to the container. And, once enough foam covers the surface, it starts rotating in a clockwise direction – opposite the container! It works for more than foam, too. The researchers show that the same holds for powders or beads. The key to the counter-rotation is that the raft needs to be coherent; it has to be able to transmit friction and internal stress among its constituents. Otherwise, the raft will just drift along with the swirling wave. (Image and research credit: F. Moisy et al., source, arXiv; via Improbable Research; submitted by David H. and Kam-Yung Soh)
