Fluxes, scalars, vectors, tensors…. and, running in circles about them!

0. This post is written for those who know something about Thermal Engineering (i.e., fluid dynamics, heat transfer, and transport phenomena) say up to the UG level at least. [A knowledge of Design Engineering, in particular, the tensors as they appear in solid mechanics, would be helpful to have but not necessary. After all, contrary to what many UGC and AICTE-approved (Full) Professors of Mechanical Engineering teaching ME (Mech – Design Engineering) courses in SPPU and other Indian universities believe, tensors not only appear also in fluid mechanics, but, in fact, the fluids phenomena make it (only so slightly) easier to understand this concept. [But all these cartoons characters, even if they don’t know even this plain and simple a fact, can always be fully relied (by anyone) about raising objections about my Metallurgy background, when it comes to my own approval, at any time! [Indians!!]]]

In this post, I write a bit about the following question:

Why is the flux \vec{J} of a scalar \phi a vector quantity, and not a mere number (which is aka a “scalar,” in certain contexts)? Why is it not a tensor—whatever the hell the term means, physically?

And, what is the best way to define a flux vector anyway?


1.

One easy answer is that if the flux is a vector, then we can establish a flux-gradient relationship. Such relationships happen to appear as statements of physical laws in all the disciplines wherever the idea of a continuum was found useful. So the scope of the applicability of the flux-gradient relationships is very vast.

The reason to define the flux as a vector, then, becomes: because the gradient of a scalar field is a vector field, that’s why.

But this answer only tells us about one of the end-purposes of the concept, viz., how it can be used. And then the answer provided is: for the formulation of a physical law. But this answer tells us nothing by way of the very meaning of the concept of flux itself.


2.

Another easy answer is that if it is a vector quantity, then it simplifies the maths involved. Instead of remembering having to take the right \theta and then multiplying the relevant scalar quantity by the \cos of this \theta, we can more succinctly write:

q = \vec{J} \cdot \vec{S} (Eq. 1)

where q is the quantity of \phi, an intensive scalar property of the fluid flowing across a given finite surface, \vec{S}, and \vec{J} is the flux of \Phi, the extensive quantity corresponding to the intensive quantity \phi.

However, apart from being a mere convenience of notation—a useful shorthand—this answer once again touches only on the end-purpose, viz., the fact that the idea of flux can be used to calculate the amount q of the transported property \Phi.

There also is another problem with this, second, answer.

Notice that in Eq. 1, \vec{J} has not been defined independently of the “dotting” operation.

If you have an equation in which the very quantity to be defined itself has an operator acting on it on one side of an equation, and then, if a suitable anti- or inverse-operator is available, then you can apply the inverse operator on both sides of the equation, and thereby “free-up” the quantity to be defined itself. This way, the quantity to be defined becomes available all by itself, and so, its definition in terms of certain hierarchically preceding other quantities also becomes straight-forward.

OK, the description looks more complex than it is, so let me illustrate it with a concrete example.

Suppose you want to define some vector \vec{T}, but the only basic equation available to you is:

\vec{R} = \int \text{d} x \vec{T}, (Eq. 2)

assuming that \vec{T} is a function of position x.

In Eq. 2, first, the integral operator must operate on \vec{T}(x) so as to produce some other quantity, here, \vec{R}. Thus, Eq. 2 can be taken as a definition for \vec{R}, but not for \vec{T}.

However, fortunately, a suitable inverse operator is available here; the inverse of integration is differentiation. So, what we do is to apply this inverse operator on both sides. On the right hand-side, it acts to let \vec{T} be free of any operator, to give you:

\dfrac{\text{d}\vec{R}}{\text{d}x} = \vec{T} (Eq. 3)

It is the Eq. 3 which can now be used as a definition of \vec{T}.

In principle, you don’t have to go to Eq. 3. In principle, you could perhaps venture to use a bit of notation abuse (the way the good folks in the calculus of variations and integral transforms always did), and say that the Eq. 2 itself is fully acceptable as a definition of \vec{T}. IMO, despite the appeal to “principles”, it still is an abuse of notation. However, I can see that the argument does have at least some point about it.

But the real trouble with using Eq. 1 (reproduced below)

q = \vec{J} \cdot \vec{S} (Eq. 1)

as a definition for \vec{J} is that no suitable inverse operator exists when it comes to the dot operator.


3.

Let’s try another way to attempt defining the flux vector, and see what it leads to. This approach goes via the following equation:

\vec{J} \equiv \dfrac{q}{|\vec{S}|} \hat{n} (Eq. 4)

where \hat{n} is the unit normal to the surface \vec{S}, defined thus:

\hat{n} \equiv \dfrac{\vec{S}}{|\vec{S}|} (Eq. 5)

Then, as the crucial next step, we introduce one more equation for q, one that is independent of \vec{J}. For phenomena involving fluid flows, this extra equation is quite simple to find:

q = \phi \rho \dfrac{\Omega_{\text{traced}}}{\Delta t} (Eq. 6)

where \phi is the mass-density of \Phi (the scalar field whose flux we want to define), \rho is the volume-density of mass itself, and \Omega_{\text{traced}} is the volume that is imaginarily traced by that specific portion of fluid which has imaginarily flowed across the surface \vec{S} in an arbitrary but small interval of time \Delta t. Notice that \Phi is the extensive scalar property being transported via the fluid flow across the given surface, whereas \phi is the corresponding intensive quantity.

Now express \Omega_{\text{traced}} in terms of the imagined maximum normal distance from the plane \vec{S} up to which the forward moving front is found extended after \Delta t. Thus,

\Omega_{\text{traced}} = \xi |\vec{S}| (Eq. 7)

where \xi is the traced distance (measured in a direction normal to \vec{S}). Now, using the geometric property for the area of parallelograms, we have that:

\xi = \delta \cos\theta (Eq. 8)

where \delta is the traced distance in the direction of the flow, and \theta is the angle between the unit normal to the plane \hat{n} and the flow velocity vector \vec{U}. Using vector notation, Eq. 8 can be expressed as:

\xi = \vec{\delta} \cdot \hat{n} (Eq. 9)

Now, by definition of \vec{U}:

\vec{\delta} = \vec{U} \Delta t, (Eq. 10)

Substituting Eq. 10 into Eq. 9, we get:

\xi = \vec{U} \Delta t \cdot \hat{n} (Eq. 11)

Substituting Eq. 11 into Eq. 7, we get:

\Omega_{\text{traced}} = \vec{U} \Delta t \cdot \hat{n} |\vec{S}| (Eq. 12)

Substituting Eq. 12 into Eq. 6, we get:

q = \phi \rho \dfrac{\vec{U} \Delta t \cdot \hat{n} |\vec{S}|}{\Delta t} (Eq. 13)

Cancelling out the \Delta t, Eq. 13 becomes:

q = \phi \rho \vec{U} \cdot \hat{n} |\vec{S}| (Eq. 14)

Having got an expression for q that is independent of \vec{J}, we can now use it in order to define \vec{J}. Thus, substituting Eq. 14 into Eq. 4:

\vec{J} \equiv \dfrac{q}{|\vec{S}|} \hat{n} = \dfrac{\phi \rho \vec{U} \cdot \hat{n} |\vec{S}|}{|\vec{S}|} \hat{n} (Eq. 16)

Cancelling out the two |\vec{S}|s (because it’s a scalar—you can always divide any term by a scalar (or even  by a complex number) but not by a vector), we finally get:

\vec{J} \equiv \phi \rho \vec{U} \cdot \hat{n} \hat{n} (Eq. 17)


4. Comments on Eq. 17

In Eq. 17, there is this curious sequence: \hat{n} \hat{n}.

It’s a sequence of two vectors, but the vectors apparently are not connected by any of the operators that are taught in the Engineering Maths courses on vector algebra and calculus—there is neither the dot (\cdot) operator nor the cross \times operator appearing in between the two \hat{n}s.

But, for the time being, let’s not get too much perturbed by the weird-looking sequence. For the time being, you can mentally insert parentheses like these:

\vec{J} \equiv \left[ \left( \phi \rho \vec{U} \right) \cdot \left( \hat{n} \right) \right] \hat{n} (Eq. 18)

and see that each of the two terms within the parentheses is a vector, and that these two vectors are connected by a dot operator so that the terms within the square brackets all evaluate to a scalar. According to Eq. 18, the scalar magnitude of the flux vector is:

|\vec{J}| = \left( \phi \rho \vec{U}\right) \cdot \left( \hat{n} \right) (Eq. 19)

and its direction is given by: \hat{n} (the second one, i.e., the one which appears in Eq. 18 but not in Eq. 19).


5.

We explained away our difficulty about Eq. 17 by inserting parentheses at suitable places. But this procedure of inserting mere parentheses looks, by itself, conceptually very attractive, doesn’t it?

If by not changing any of the quantities or the order in which they appear, and if by just inserting parentheses, an equation somehow begins to make perfect sense (i.e., if it seems to acquire a good physical meaning), then we have to wonder:

Since it is possible to insert parentheses in Eq. 17 in some other way, in some other places—to group the quantities in some other way—what physical meaning would such an alternative grouping have?

That’s a delectable possibility, potentially opening new vistas of physico-mathematical reasonings for us. So, let’s pursue it a bit.

What if the parentheses were to be inserted the following way?:

\vec{J} \equiv \left( \hat{n} \hat{n} \right) \cdot \left( \phi \rho \vec{U} \right) (Eq. 20)

On the right hand-side, the terms in the second set of parentheses evaluate to a vector, as usual. However, the terms in the first set of parentheses are special.

The fact of the matter is, there is an implicit operator connecting the two vectors, and if it is made explicit, Eq. 20 would rather be written as:

\vec{J} \equiv \left( \hat{n} \otimes \hat{n} \right) \cdot \left( \phi \rho \vec{U} \right) (Eq. 21)

The \otimes operator, as it so happens, is a binary operator that operates on two vectors (which in general need not necessarily be one and the same vector as is the case here, and whose order with respect to the operator does matter). It produces a new mathematical object called the tensor.

The general form of Eq. 21 is like the following:

\vec{V} = \vec{\vec{T}} \cdot \vec{U} (Eq. 22)

where we have put two arrows on the top of the tensor, to bring out the idea that it has something to do with two vectors (in a certain order). Eq. 22 may be read as the following: Begin with an input vector \vec{U}. When it is multiplied by the tensor \vec{\vec{T}}, we get another vector, the output vector: \vec{V}. The tensor quantity \vec{\vec{T}} is thus a mapping between an arbitrary input vector and its uniquely corresponding output vector. It also may be thought of as a unary operator which accepts a vector on its right hand-side as an input, and transforms it into the corresponding output vector.


6. “Where am I?…”

Now is the time to take a pause and ponder about a few things. Let me begin doing that, by raising a few questions for you:

Q. 6.1:

What kind of a bargain have we ended up with? We wanted to show how the flux of a scalar field \Phi must be a vector. However, in the process, we seem to have adopted an approach which says that the only way the flux—a vector—can at all be defined is in reference to a tensor—a more advanced concept.

Instead of simplifying things, we seem to have ended up complicating the matters. … Have we? really? …Can we keep the physical essentials of the approach all the same and yet, in our definition of the flux vector, don’t have to make a reference to the tensor concept? exactly how?

(Hint: Look at the above development very carefully once again!)

Q. 6.2:

In Eq. 20, we put the parentheses in this way:

\vec{J} \equiv \left( \hat{n} \hat{n} \right) \cdot \left( \phi \rho \vec{U} \right) (Eq. 20, reproduced)

What would happen if we were to group the same quantities, but alter the order of the operands for the dot operator?  After all, the dot product is commutative, right? So, we could have easily written Eq. 20 rather as:

\vec{J} \equiv \left( \phi \rho \vec{U} \right) \cdot \left( \hat{n} \hat{n} \right) (Eq. 21)

What could be the reason why in writing Eq. 20, we might have made the choice we did?

Q. 6.3:

We wanted to define the flux vector for all fluid-mechanical flow phenomena. But in Eq. 21, reproduced below, what we ended up having was the following:

\vec{J} \equiv \left( \phi \rho \vec{U} \right) \cdot \left( \hat{n} \otimes \hat{n} \right) (Eq. 21, reproduced)

Now, from our knowledge of fluid dynamics, we know that Eq. 21 seemingly stands only for one kind of a flux, namely, the convective flux. But what about the diffusive flux? (To know the difference between the two, consult any good book/course-notes on CFD using FVM, e.g. Jayathi Murthy’s notes at Purdue, or Versteeg and Malasekara’s text.)

Q. 6.4:

Try to pursue this line of thought a bit:

Start with Eq. 1 again:

q = \vec{J} \cdot \vec{S} (Eq. 1, reproduced)

Express \vec{S} as a product of its magnitude and direction:

q = \vec{J} \cdot |\vec{S}| \hat{n} (Eq. 23)

Divide both sides of Eq. 23 by |\vec{S}|:

\dfrac{q}{|\vec{S}|} = \vec{J} \cdot \hat{n} (Eq. 24)

“Multiply” both sides of Eq. 24 by \hat{n}:

\dfrac{q} {|\vec{S}|} \hat{n} = \vec{J} \cdot \hat{n} \hat{n} (Eq. 25)

We seem to have ended up with a tensor once again! (and more rapidly than in the development in section 4. above).

Now, looking at what kind of a change the left hand-side of Eq. 24 undergoes when we “multiply” it by a vector (which is: \hat{n}), can you guess something about what the “multiplication” on the right hand-side by \hat{n} might mean? Here is a hint:

To multiply a scalar by a vector is meaningless, really speaking. First, you need to have a vector space, and then, you are allowed to take any arbitrary vector from that space, and scale it up (without changing its direction) by multiplying it with a number that acts as a scalar. The result at least looks the same as “multiplying” a scalar by a vector.

What then might be happening on the right hand side?

Q.6.5:

Recall your knowledge (i) that vectors can be expressed as single-column or single-row matrices, and (ii) how matrices can be algebraically manipulated, esp. the rules for their multiplications.

Try to put the above developments using an explicit matrix notation.

In particular, pay particular attention to the matrix-algebraic notation for the dot product between a row- or column-vector and a square matrix, and the effect it has on your answer to question Q.6.2. above. [Hint: Try to use the transpose operator if you reach what looks like a dead-end.]

Q.6.6.

Suppose I introduce the following definitions: All single-column matrices are “primary” vectors (whatever the hell it may mean), and all single-row matrices are “dual” vectors (once again, whatever the hell it may mean).

Given these definitions, you can see that any primary vector can be turned into its corresponding dual vector simply by applying the transpose operator to it. Taking the logic to full generality, the entirety of a given primary vector-space can then be transformed into a certain corresponding vector space, called the dual space.

Now, using these definitions, and in reference to the definition of the flux vector via a tensor (Eq. 21), but with the equation now re-cast into the language of matrices, try to identify the physical meaning the concept of “dual” space. [If you fail to, I will sure provide a hint.]

As a part of this exercise, you will also be able to figure out which of the two \hat{n}s forms the “primary” vector space and which \hat{n} forms the dual space, if the tensor product \hat{n}\otimes\hat{n} itself appears (i) before the dot operator or (ii) after the dot operator, in the definition of the flux vector. Knowing the physical meaning for the concept of the dual space of a given vector space, you can then see what the physical meaning of the tensor product of the unit normal vectors (\hat{n}s) is, here.

Over to you. [And also to the UGC/AICTE-Approved Full Professors of Mechanical Engineering in SPPU and in other similar Indian universities. [Indians!!]]

A Song I Like:

[TBD, after I make sure all LaTeX entries have come out right, which may very well be tomorrow or the day after…]

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Machine “Learning”—An Entertainment [Industry] Edition

Yes, “Machine ‘Learning’,” too, has been one of my “research” interests for some time by now. … Machine learning, esp. ANN (Artificial Neural Networks), esp. Deep Learning. …

Yesterday, I wrote a comment about it at iMechanica. Though it was made in a certain technical context, today I thought that the comment could, perhaps, make sense to many of my general readers, too, if I supply a bit of context to it. So, let me report it here (after a bit of editing). But before coming to my comment, let me first give you the context in which it was made:


Context for my iMechanica comment:

It all began with a fellow iMechanician, one Mingchuan Wang, writing a post of the title “Is machine learning a research priority now in mechanics?” at iMechanica [^]. Biswajit Banerjee responded by pointing out that

“Machine learning includes a large set of techniques that can be summarized as curve fitting in high dimensional spaces. [snip] The usefulness of the new techniques [in machine learning] should not be underestimated.” [Emphasis mine.]

Then Biswajit had pointed out an arXiv paper [^] in which machine learning was reported as having produced some good DFT-like simulations for quantum mechanical simulations, too.

A word about DFT for those who (still) don’t know about it:

DFT, i.e. Density Functional Theory, is “formally exact description of a many-body quantum system through the density alone. In practice, approximations are necessary” [^]. DFT thus is a computational technique; it is used for simulating the electronic structure in quantum mechanical systems involving several hundreds of electrons (i.e. hundreds of atoms). Here is the obligatory link to the Wiki [^], though a better introduction perhaps appears here [(.PDF) ^]. Here is a StackExchange on its limitations [^].

Trivia: Kohn and Sham received a Physics Nobel for inventing DFT. It was a very, very rare instance of a Physics Nobel being awarded for an invention—not a discovery. But the Nobel committee, once again, turned out to have put old Nobel’s money in the right place. Even if the work itself was only an invention, it did directly led to a lot of discoveries in condensed matter physics! That was because DFT was fast—it was fast enough that it could bring the physics of the larger quantum systems within the scope of (any) study at all!

And now, it seems, Machine Learning has advanced enough to be able to produce results that are similar to DFT, but without using any QM theory at all! The computer does have to “learn” its “art” (i.e. “skill”), but it does so from the results of previous DFT-based simulations, not from the theory at the base of DFT. But once the computer does that—“learning”—and the paper shows that it is possible for computer to do that—it is able to compute very similar-looking simulations much, much faster than even the rather fast technique of DFT itself.

OK. Context over. Now here in the next section is my yesterday’s comment at iMechanica. (Also note that the previous exchange on this thread at iMechanica had occurred almost a year ago.) Since it has been edited quite a bit, I will not format it using a quotation block.


[An edited version of my comment begins]

A very late comment, but still, just because something struck me only this late… May as well share it….

I think that, as Biswajit points out, it’s a question of matching a technique to an application area where it is likely to be of “good enough” a fit.

I mean to say, consider fluid dynamics, and contrast it to QM.

In (C)FD, the nonlinearity present in the advective term is a major headache. As far as I can gather, this nonlinearity has all but been “proved” as the basic cause behind the phenomenon of turbulence. If so, using machine learning in CFD would be, by the simple-minded “analysis”, a basically hopeless endeavour. The very idea of using a potential presupposes differential linearity. Therefore, machine learning may be thought as viable in computational Quantum Mechanics (viz. DFT), but not in the more mundane, classical mechanical, CFD.

But then, consider the role of the BCs and the ICs in any simulation. It is true that if you don’t handle nonlinearities right, then as the simulation time progresses, errors are soon enough going to multiply (sort of), and lead to a blowup—or at least a dramatic departure from a realistic simulation.

But then, also notice that there still is some small but nonzero interval of time which has to pass before a really bad amplification of the errors actually begins to occur. Now what if a new “BC-IC” gets imposed right within that time-interval—the one which does show “good enough” an accuracy? In this case, you can expect the simulation to remain “sufficiently” realistic-looking for a long, very long time!

Something like that seems to have been the line of thought implicit in the results reported by this paper: [(.PDF) ^].

Machine learning seems to work even in CFD, because in an interactive session, a new “modified BC-IC” is every now and then is manually being introduced by none other than the end-user himself! And, the location of the modification is precisely the region from where the flow in the rest of the domain would get most dominantly affected during the subsequent, small, time evolution.

It’s somewhat like an electron rushing through a cloud chamber. By the uncertainty principle, the electron “path” sure begins to get hazy immediately after it is “measured” (i.e. absorbed and re-emitted) by a vapor molecule at a definite point in space. The uncertainty in the position grows quite rapidly. However, what actually happens in a cloud chamber is that, before this cone of haziness becomes too big, comes along another vapor molecule, and “zaps” i.e. “measures” the electron back on to a classical position. … After a rapid succession of such going-hazy-getting-zapped process, the end result turns out to be a very, very classical-looking (line-like) path—as if the electron always were only a particle, never a wave.

Conclusion? Be realistic about how smart the “dumb” “curve-fitting” involved in machine learning can at all get. Yet, at the same time, also remain open to all the application areas where it can be made it work—even including those areas where, “intuitively”, you wouldn’t expect it to have any chance to work!

[An edited version of my comment is over. Original here at iMechanica [^]]


 

“Boy, we seem to have covered a lot of STEM territory here… Mechanics, DFT, QM, CFD, nonlinearity. … But where is either the entertainment or the industry you had promised us in the title?”

You might be saying that….

Well, the CFD paper I cited above was about the entertainment industry. It was, in particular, about the computer games industry. Go check out SoHyeon Jeong’s Web site for more cool videos and graphics [^], all using machine learning.


And, here is another instance connected with entertainment, even though now I am going to make it (mostly) explanation-free.

Check out the following piece of art—a watercolor landscape of a monsoon-time but placid sea-side, in fact. Let me just say that a certain famous artist produced it; in any case, the style is plain unmistakable. … Can you name the artist simply by looking at it? See the picture below:

A sea beach in the monsoons. Watercolor.

If you are unable to name the artist, then check out this story here [^], and a previous story here [^].


A Song I Like:

And finally, to those who have always loved Beatles’ songs…

Here is one song which, I am sure, most of you had never heard before. In any case, it came to be distributed only recently. When and where was it recorded? For both the song and its recording details, check out this site: [^]. Here is another story about it: [^]. And, if you liked what you read (and heard), here is some more stuff of the same kind [^].


Endgame:

I am of the Opinion that 99% of the “modern” “artists” and “music composers” ought to be replaced by computers/robots/machines. Whaddya think?

[Credits: “Endgame” used to be the way Mukul Sharma would end his weekly Mindsport column in the yesteryears’ Sunday Times of India. (The column perhaps also used to appear in The Illustrated Weekly of India before ToI began running it; at least I have a vague recollection of something of that sort, though can’t be quite sure. … I would be a school-boy back then, when the Weekly perhaps ran it.)]

 

A bit about my trade…

Even while enjoying my writer’s block, I still won’t disappoint you. … My browsing has yielded some material, and I am going to share it with you.

It all began with googling for some notes on CFD. One thing led to another, and soon enough, I was at this page [^] maintained by Prof. Praveen Chandrashekhar of TIFR Bangalore.

Do go through the aforementioned link; highly recommended. It tells you about the nature of my trade [CFD]…

As that page notes, this article had first appeared in the AIAA Student Journal. Looking at the particulars of the anachronisms, I wanted to know the precise date of the writing. Googling on the title of the article led me to a PDF document which was hidden under a “webpage-old” sub-directory, for the web pages for the ME608 course offered by Prof. Jayathi Murthy at Purdue [^]. At the bottom of this PDF document is a note that the AIAA article had appeared in the Summer of 1985. … Hmm…. Sounds right.

If you enjoy your writer’s block [the way I do], one sure way to continue having it intact is to continue googling. You are guaranteed never to come out it. I mean to say, at least as far as I know, there is no equivalent of Godwin’s law [^] on the browsing side.

Anyway, so, what I next googled on was: “wind tunnels.” I was expecting to see the Wright brothers as the inventors of the idea. Well, I was proved wrong. The history section on the Wiki page [^] mentions Benjamin Robins and his “whirling arm” apparatus to determine drag. The reference for this fact goes to a book bearing the title “Mathematical Tracts of the late Benjamin Robins, Esq,” published, I gathered, in 1761. The description of the reference adds the sub-title (or the chapter title): “An account of the experiments, relating to the resistance of the air, exhibited at different times before the Royal Society, in the year 1746.” [The emphasis in the italics is mine, of course! [Couldn’t you have just guessed it?]]

Since I didn’t know anything about the “whirling arm,” and since the Wiki article didn’t explain it either, a continuation of googling was entirely in order. [The other reason was what I’ve told you already: I was enjoying my writer’s block, and didn’t want it to go away—not so soon, anyway.] The fallout of the search was one k-12 level page maintained by NASA [^]. Typical of the government-run NASA, there was no diagram to illustrate the text. … So I quickly closed the tab, came back to the next entries in the search results, and landed on this blog post [^] by “Gina.” The name of the blog was “Fluids in motion.”

… Interesting…. You know, I knew about, you know, “Fuck Yeah Fluid Dynamics” [^] (which is a major time- and bandwidth-sink) but not about “Fluids in motion.” So I had to browse the new blog, too. [As to the FYFD, I only today discovered the origin of the peculiar name; it is given in the Science mag story here [^].]

Anyway, coming back to Gina’s blog, I then clicked on the “fluids” category, and landed here [^]… Turns out that Gina’s is a less demanding on the bandwidth, as compared to FYFD. [… I happen to have nearly exhausted my monthly data limit of 10 GB, and the monthly renewal is on the 5th June. …. Sigh!…]

Anyway, so here I was, at Gina’s blog, and the first post in the “fluids” category was on “murmuration of starlings,” [^]. There was a link to a video… Video… Video? … Intermediate Conclusion: Writer’s blocks are costly. … Soon after, a quiet temptation thought: I must get to know what the phrase “murmuration of starlings” means. … A weighing in of the options, and the final conclusion: what the hell! [what else], I will buy an extra 1 or 2 GB add-on pack, but I gotta see that video. [Writer’s block, I told you, is enjoyable.] … Anyway, go, watch that video. It’s awesome. Also, Gina’s book “Modeling Ships and Space Craft.” It too seems to be awesome: [^] and [^].

The only way to avoid further spending on the bandwidth was to get out of my writer’s block. Somehow.

So, I browsed a bit on the term [^], and took the links on the first page of this search. To my dismay, I found that not even a single piece was helpful to me, because none was relevant to my situation: every piece of advice there was obviously written only after assuming that you are not enjoying your writer’s block. But what if you do? …

Anyway, I had to avoid any further expenditure on the bandwidth—my expenditure—and so, I had to get out of my writer’s block.

So, I wrote something—this post!


[Blogging will continue to remain sparse. … Humor apart, I am in the middle of writing some C++ code, and it is enjoyable but demanding on my time. I will remain busy with this code until at least the middle of June. So, expect the next post only around that time.]

[May be one more editing pass tomorrow… Done.]

[E&OE]

 

Papers must fall out…

Over the past couple of weeks or so, I’ve been going over SPH (smoothed particle hydrodynamics).

I once again went through the beginning references noted in my earlier post, here [^]. However, instead of rewriting my notes (which I lost in the last HDD crash), this time round, I went straight to programming. … In this post, let me recap recall what all I did.


First, I went through the great post “Why my fluids don’t flow” [^] by Tom Madams. … His blog has the title: “I am doing it wrong,” with the sub-text: “most of the time.” [Me too, Tom, me too!] This post gave a listing of what looked like a fully working C++ code. Seeing this code listing (even if the videos are no longer accessible), I had to try it.

So, I installed the Eclipse CDT. [Remember my HDD crash?—the OS on the new HDD had no IDEs/C++ compilers installed till now; I had thus far installed only Python and PyCharm]. I also installed MinGW, freeglut, Java JRE, but not all of them in the correct order. [Remember, I too do it wrong, most of the time.] I then created a “Hello World” project, and copy-pasted Tom’s code.

The program compiled well. [If you are going to try Tom’s code in Eclipse CDT + MinGW on Windows, the only issue you would now (in 2016) run into would be in the Project Settings, both in the compiler and linker settings parts, and both for OpenGL and freeglut. The latest versions of Eclipse & MinGW have undergone changes and don’t work precisely as explained even in the most helpful Web resources about this combination. … It’s not a big deal, but it’s not exactly what the slightly out-of-date online resources on this topic continue telling you either. … The options for the linker are a bit trickier to get than those for the compiler; the options for freeglut certainly are trickier to get than those for OpenGL. … If you have problems with this combination (Eclipse + MinGW on Windows 7 64-bit, with OpenGL and freeglut), then drop me a line and I will help you out.]

Tom’s program not only compiled well, but it also worked beautifully. Quite naturally, I had to change something about it.

So I removed his call to glDrawArrays(), and replaced the related code with the even older glBegin(GL_POINTS), glVertex2d(), glEnd() sort of a code. As I had anticipated,  there indeed was no noticeable performance difference. If the fluid in the original code required something like a minute (of computer’s physical time) to settle down to a certain quiescent state, then so did the one with the oldest-style usage of OpenGL. The FPS in the two cases were identical in almost all of the release runs, and they differed by less than 5–7% for the debug runs as well, when the trials were conducted on absolutely fresh cold-starts (i.e. with no ready-to-access memory pages in either physical or virtual memory).

Happy with my change, I then came to study Tom’s SPH code proper. I didn’t like the emitters. True to my core engineering background, what I wanted to simulate was the dam break. That means, all the 3000 particles would be present in the system right from the word go, thereby also having a slower performance throughout, including in the beginning. But Tom’s code was too tied up with the emitters. True to my software engineering background, rather than search and remove the emitters-related portion and thus waste my time fixing the resulting compiler errors, I felt like writing my own code. [Which true programmer doesn’t?]

So I did that, writing only stubs for the functions involving the calculations of the kernels and the accelerations. … I, however, did implement the grid-based nearest-neighbor search. Due to laziness, I simply reused the STL lists, rather than implementing the more basic (and perhaps slightly more efficient) “p->next” idiom.

Then I once again came back to Tom’s code, and began looking more carefully at his SPH-specific computations.

What I now didn’t like was the variables defined for the near-density and the near-pressure. These quantities didn’t fit very well into my preconceived notions of how a decent SPH code ought to look like.

So, I decided to deprove [which word is defined as an antonym of “improve”] this part, by taking this 2010 code from its 2007 (Becker et al.) theoretical basis, to a 2003 basis (Muller et al., Eurographics).

Further following my preconceived notions, I also decided to keep the values of the physical constants (density, gas stiffness, viscosity, surface tension) the same as those for the actual water.

The code, of course, wouldn’t work. The fluid would explode as if it were a gas, not water.

I then turned my learner’s attention to David Bindel’s code (see the “Resources” section at the bottom of his page here [^]).

Visiting Bindel’s pages once again, this time round, I noticed that he had apparently written this code only as a background material for a (mere) course-assignment! It was not even an MS thesis! And here I was, still struggling with SPH, even after having spent something like two weeks of full-time effort on it! [The difference was caused by the use of the realistic physical constants, of course. But I didn’t want to simply copy-paste Tom’s or Bindel’s parameter values; I wanted to understand where they came from—what kind of physical and computational contexts made those specific values give reasonable results.]

I of course liked some of the aspects of Bindel’s code better—e.g. kernels—and so, I happily changed my code here and there to incorporate them.

But I didn’t want to follow Bindel’s normalize_mass routine. Two reasons: (i) Once again according to my preconceived notions, I wanted to first set aside a sub-region of the overall domain for the fluid; then decide with how many particles to populate it, and what lattice arrangement to follow (square? body centered-cubic? hexagonal close-packed?); based on that, calculate each particle’s radius; then compute the volume of each particle; and only then set its mass using the gross physical density of the material from which it is composed (using the volume the particle would occupy if it were to be isolated from all others, as an intermediate step). The mass of a particle, thus computed (and not assumed) would remain fixed for all the time-steps in the program. (ii) I eventually wanted a multi-phase dam-break, and so wasn’t going to assume a global constant for the mass. Naturally, my code wouldn’t be able to blindly follow Bindel on all counts.

I also didn’t like the version of the leapfrog he has implemented. His version requires you to maintain additional quantities of the velocities at the half time-steps (I didn’t mind that), and also to implement a separate leapfrog_start() function (which I did mind—an additional sequence of very similar-looking function calls becomes tricky to modify and maintain). So, I implemented the other version of the leapfrog, viz., the “velocity Verlet.” It has exactly the same computational properties (of being symplectic and time-reversible), the same error/convergence properties (it too is second-order accurate), but it comes with the advantage that the quantities are defined only at the integer time-steps—no half-time business, and no tricky initialization sequence to be maintained.

My code, of course, still  didn’t work. The fluid would still explode. The reason, still, was: the parameter values. But the rest of the code now was satisfactory. How do I know this last part? Simple. Because, I commented out the calls to all the functions involving all other accelerations, and retained only the acceleration due to gravity. I could then see the balls experiencing the correct free-fall under gravity, with the correct bouncing-back from the floor of the domain. Both the time for the ball to hit the floor as well as the height reached after bouncing were in line with what physics predicts. Thus I knew that my time integration routines would be bug-free. Using some debug tracings, I also checked that the nearest-neighbour routines were working correctly.

I then wrote a couple of Python scripts to understand the different kernels better; I even plotted them using MatPlotLib. I felt better. A program I wrote was finally producing some output that I could in principle show someone else (rather than having just randomly exploding fluid particles). Even if it was doing only kernel calculations and not the actual SPH simulation. I had to feel [slightly] better, and I did.

At this stage, I stopped writing programs. I began thinking. [Yes, I do that, too.]


To cut a long story short, I ended up formulating two main research ideas concerning SPH. Both these ideas are unlike my usual ones.

Usually, when I formulate some new research idea, it is way too conceptual—at least as compared to the typical research reported in the engineering journals. Typically, at that stage (of my formulation of a new research idea), I am totally unable to see even an outline of what kind of a sequence of journal papers could possibly follow from it.

For instance, in the case of my diffusion equation-related result, it took me years before an outline for a good conference paper—almost like really speaking, at par with a journal paper—could at all evolve. I did have the essential argument ready. But I didn’t know what all context—the specifically mathematical context—would be expected in a paper based on that idea. I (and all the mathematicians I contacted) also had no idea as to how (or where) to go hunting for that context. And I certainly didn’t have any concrete idea as to how I would pull it all together to build a concrete and sufficiently rigorous argument. I knew nothing of that; I only knew that the instantaneous action-at-a-distance (IAD) was now dead; summarily dead. Similarly, in case of QM, I do have some new ideas, but I am still light-years away from deciding on a specific sequence of what kind of papers could be written about it, let alone have a good, detailed idea for the outline of the next journal paper to write on the topic.

However, in this case—this research on SPH—my ideas happen to be more like what [other] people typically use when they write papers for [even very high impact] journals those which lie behind the routine journal papers. So, papers should follow easily, once I work on these ideas.


Indeed, papers must follow those ideas. …There is another reason to it, too.

… Recently, I’ve come to develop an appreciation, a very deep kind of an appreciation, of the idea of having one’s own Google Scholar page, complete with a [fairly] recent photo, a verified email account at an educational institution (preferably with a .edu, or a .ac.in (.in for India) domain, rather than a .org or a .com domain), and a listing of one’s own h-index. [Yes, my own Google Scholar page, even if the h-Index be zero, initially. [Time heals all wounds.] I have come to develop that—an appreciation of this idea of having a Google Scholar page. … One could provide a link to it from one’s personal Web site, one could even cite the page in one’s CV, it could impress UGC/NBA/funding folks…. There are many uses to having a Google Scholar page.

…That is another reason why [journal] papers must come out, at least now.

And I expect that the couple of ideas regarding SPH should lead to at least a couple of journal papers.

Since these ideas are more like the usual/routine research, it would be possible to even plan for their development execution. Accordingly, let me say (as of today) that I should be able to finish both these papers within the next 4–5 months. [That would be the time-frame even if I have no student assistant. [Having a student assistant—even a very brilliant student studying at an IIT, say at IIT Bombay—would still not shorten the time to submission, neither would it reduce my own work-load any more than by about 10–20% or so. That’s the reason I am not planning on a student assistant on these ideas.]

But, yes, with all this activity in the recent past, and with all the planned activity, it is inevitable that papers would fall out. Papers must, in fact, fall out. …. Journal papers! [Remember Google Scholar?]


Of course, when it comes to execution, it’s a different story that even before I begin any serious work on them, I still have to first complete writing my CFD notes, and also have to write a few FDM, FVM and VoF/LevelSet programs scripts or OpenFOAM cases. Whatever I had written in the past, most of it was lost in my last HDD crash. I thus have a lot of territory to recover first.

Of course, rewriting notes/codes is fast. I could so rapidly progress on SPH this year—a full working C++ code in barely 2–3 weeks flat—only because I had implemented some MD (molecular dynamics) code in 2014, no matter how simple MD it was. The algorithms for collision detection and reflections at boundaries remain the same for all particles approaches: MD with hard disks, MD with LJ potential, and SPH. Even if I don’t have the previously written code, the algorithms are no longer completely new to me. As I begin to write code, the detailed considerations and all come back very easily, making the progress very swift, as far as programming is concerned.

When it comes to notes, I somehow find that writing them down once again takes almost the same length of time—just because you had taken out your notes earlier, it doesn’t make writing them down afresh takes any less time.

Thus, overall, recovering the lost territory would still take quite some effort and time.

My blogging would therefore continue to remain sparse even in the near future; expect at the most one more post this month (May 2016).

The work on the journal papers itself should begin in the late-June/early-July, and it should end by mid-December. It could. Nay, it must. … Yes, it must!

Papers must come out of all these activities, else it’s no research at all—it’s nothing. It’s a zero, a naught, a nothing, if there are no papers to show that you did research.

Papers must fall out! … Journal papers!!


A Song I Like:

(Western, Instrumental) “The rain must fall”
Composer: Yanni


[May be one quick editing pass later today, and I will be done with this post. Done on 12th May 2016.]

[E&OE]