Surface tension — where it appears
Named by 28 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The skin that is not a skin
A drop of water behaves as though it were wrapped in a stretched membrane, and there is no membrane. What there is instead is an energy cost per unit of surface, and almost everything the apparent skin does follows from a liquid trying to have less of one.
The small bubble blows up the big one
Connect two soap bubbles of different size and the small one empties into the large one. Everybody expects the opposite, and the reason it happens is one equation with a radius in the denominator — which also means the process runs away rather than settling.
The thread that cannot stay a thread
A stream of water from a tap breaks into drops, and it does so at a spacing that is always about four and a half diameters. Nothing chooses that number — it is the wavelength that grows fastest out of a competition between all of them, and it can be computed before any water is poured.
How high water will climb
Water rises up a narrow tube against gravity, and the narrower the tube the higher it goes. The height is set by a curved surface pulling on a circumference while gravity pulls on an area, and the two scale differently — which is the whole of it.
The angle a liquid makes with what it sits on
Everything capillarity does — climbing, beading, wicking, waterproofing — is the sign and size of one cosine, and that cosine belongs to three interfaces at once rather than to the water. Change the solid and nothing about the water has changed, yet the same five microlitres goes from a footprint 2.61 mm across to one of 0.69 mm.
The surface that pulls toward the stronger side
Surface tension is usually treated as a constant of a liquid, and it is not — it depends on temperature and on what is dissolved, and a difference in it along a surface is a force along that surface — which drags the liquid underneath and needs no pressure difference at all.
The ring the drop leaves behind
A drop of coffee dries into a ring rather than a disc, and nothing about coffee is responsible. The pattern is produced by a boundary condition — an edge that cannot move — and it survives replacing the coffee with anything else that will stay suspended.
The height a siphon cannot pass
A siphon will not lift water more than about ten metres, and the usual explanation for the limit is also given as the explanation for the mechanism. It cannot be both. A siphon runs in a vacuum, with degassed water, over a crown no atmosphere could support.
The point at which the two become one
Heat a sealed tube of carbon dioxide and the meniscus inside it does not boil away — it fades, the two densities converging until there is nothing to separate. Twenty millikelvin before that happens the fluid turns milky, and the exponent describing the last approach is a number van der Waals got wrong and could not have got right.
The block the water does not lift
A block bedded flat on the bottom of a tank, with no water underneath it, feels no upthrust at all. It is fully submerged, Archimedes' principle is not suspended, and it presses on the floor with more than its own weight — because buoyancy is not something a fluid has, it is what the bottom face is doing, and a face the water cannot reach does nothing.
The column that is pulled, not pushed
A capillary fine enough to lift a hundred metres is far too fine to carry any flow, and one wide enough to carry the flow lifts under a metre. Neither is how the water gets up a tree. The column is under tension — an absolute pressure of −0.88 MPa at the top, which a gas cannot have — held together by cohesion and prevented from tearing by pores a few tens of nanometres across.
The barrier a new phase has to climb
Water vapour three times supersaturated is thermodynamically desperate to condense and will sit there indefinitely if it is clean enough. The obstacle is that a droplet has to start small, and a small droplet is nearly all surface — so the first nanometre of every phase transition costs energy rather than releasing it, and what decides whether anything happens is the height of that cost divided by kT.
The angles a film has no choice about
A soap film pulls equally hard in every direction along itself, so wherever films meet the pulls have to sum to zero — and equal vectors summing to zero fixes the geometry completely. Three films meet at a hundred and twenty degrees and four edges at a hundred and nine point four seven, in every foam, of every liquid, at every scale, and nothing about the material appears in either number.
The pressure a charge puts on its own metal
Charge on a conductor sits on the surface and tries to leave. The outward pull is half epsilon-nought E squared, the half is because a charge exerts no force on itself, and setting that pull against surface tension gives the largest a charged drop is allowed to be — a number Rayleigh wrote down in 1882 and an industry now depends on.
The melting curve that leans the wrong way
The slope of any coexistence line is the latent heat divided by the temperature and the change in volume. Latent heat is always positive, so the sign of the slope is the sign of the volume change — and for water the volume change is negative, which is the whole of why ice floats and why the melting curve leans backwards.
The corner a liquid never stops climbing
A narrow tube lifts a liquid to a definite height because it has a smallest width. A corner has none, so the capillary suction it can develop is unbounded — and whether the liquid takes advantage is decided by a single inequality between the contact angle and the corner's own angle.
The film that goes black before it bursts
A soap film drains, runs through every interference colour, and then stops reflecting anything at all. The black patch is not a hole and not a film about to break: it is the thinnest and most stable state the arrangement has, held apart by a pressure between its two surfaces that only exists at distances of nanometres.
The pore that fills from dry air
Water condenses when the air is saturated — on a flat surface. Over a curved one the vapour pressure is different, higher over a drop and lower over a meniscus, and in a pore a few nanometres across it is low enough that the pore fills with liquid from air at half humidity. The water it holds is under a tension of a hundred megapascals, and the pore empties at a lower humidity than it filled at, for a reason that needs no roughness at all.
The angle a voltage can set
A contact angle is treated as a fact about three materials — a solid, a liquid and the air — fixed the moment they are chosen. Put a voltage across a micrometre of insulator under a drop and the angle falls as the square of the voltage, with nothing about the materials changed. Drops can be steered across a chip with no pump, and a lens can focus with no moving part. The law that describes it is exact in its model, and real surfaces stop obeying it at an angle nobody has fully explained.
The cereal that gathers at the edge of the bowl
The last few pieces of cereal in a bowl of milk clump together and drift to the side of the bowl. Nothing is pulling on them but the milk's surface. Each floating piece bends the surface round itself, and a second piece sitting on that bend has somewhere to slide: like menisci attract, unlike menisci repel, and the reach of the force is a few capillary lengths, 2.7 millimetres for water. The arithmetic is the arithmetic of charged lines in two dimensions, screened by gravity, and it says why leaves gather on a pond, why bubbles on coffee drift to the cup's rim, and why particles smaller than about ten micrometres do not clump this way at all.
The water the dent displaces
A steel needle laid carefully on water floats, and the usual explanation is that surface tension holds it up instead of buoyancy, as though the two were rival mechanisms. They are not rivals. The needle presses a dent into the surface, and the upward pull of surface tension along its edges is exactly the weight of the water missing from that dent. Archimedes' principle holds without amendment: a floating needle displaces its own weight of water. Most of that water is simply not underneath it.
The bubble that grows by counting its sides
A froth of soap bubbles squeezed between two sheets of glass coarsens over a few days: small cells vanish and large ones swell. The obvious guess is that size decides which cells win, as it does for two bubbles joined by a tube, where the small one always empties into the large one. In a froth it is wrong. John von Neumann showed in 1952 that a cell's area changes at a rate fixed entirely by how many sides it has — shrinking if fewer than six, growing if more — and not at all by how big it is. The proof is a single sum of angles.
The tension that vanishes where the phases meet
Surface tension is usually treated as a property of a liquid, like its density. It is a property of a boundary between two things, and it can only exist while there are two things. Heat water in a sealed tube and its surface tension falls steadily, then faster, and reaches exactly zero at 374 °C, where liquid and vapour stop being different. On the way the surface stops being a surface: the step in density spreads from a molecule's width to thousands, and the rate at which the tension dies turns out to be a number the whole family of critical points shares and the simplest theory gets wrong.
The drop that runs to the narrow end
Put a drop of water into a glass tube that narrows towards one end and it moves, on its own, towards the narrow end — horizontally, with nothing pushing it. Francis Hauksbee reported it to the Royal Society in 1712, and the explanation is two curved surfaces pulling with different strengths: each meniscus lowers the pressure of the water behind it by an amount that grows as the tube narrows, so the end in the narrower part sucks harder. A drop of mercury, which does not wet glass, goes the other way. Which way a drop goes depends on the cosine of one angle, and, for a short drop, on its length.
The speed below which nothing on water leaves a wake
Every wave on clean water travels at 23 centimetres a second or faster: long waves are fast because gravity drives them, short ones because surface tension does, and in between there is a slowest wave. A boat, a duck or a fishing line can only make waves that keep pace with it, so anything crossing the water more slowly than 23 centimetres a second makes no waves at all. Faster, it makes two kinds at once — short ripples that run ahead of it and long waves that trail behind — and the threshold between nothing and both is set by gravity, surface tension and density alone.
The surface whose thickness depends on the view
The surface of a glass of water looks like a perfect plane, and over most distances it nearly is. But it is at room temperature, and every ripple it could carry — from a few molecules long to a few millimetres — is shaken by heat with its own share of thermal energy. The ripples are tiny, a fraction of a nanometre high, and they add up in an odd way: every factor of ten in wavelength contributes the same amount of roughness. So the thickness of a water surface has no single value. It depends logarithmically on how large a patch is looked at, until gravity stops it at a few millimetres, and the X-ray measurements that report a third of a nanometre are reporting a property of their own resolution as much as of the water.
The drop that will not merge
A drop of oil let fall onto a pool of the same oil ought to vanish into it at once: merging releases surface energy, and nothing holds the two apart. Instead it bounces. A film of air is trapped between drop and pool, and air, though it offers no strength at all, is slow to leave a gap a few micrometres thick: the film takes the better part of a second to drain to the hundred nanometres at which the surfaces can touch, while a bounce lasts four milliseconds. Shake the pool and the drop can bounce for ever, in rhythms that double as the shaking grows — and, near the pool's own instability, it starts to walk across the surface on the waves of its own making.
The sandcastle a spoonful of water holds
A dry heap of sand stands at thirty degrees and no steeper. Add a spoonful of water to a bucketful, and the same grains will stand in a vertical wall and carry a person's weight. Add ten times as much water and the wall is no stronger, because a bridge of water between two grains pulls with almost the same force whatever its size. Its strength belongs to the grain and the surface tension, and the amount of water hardly enters.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Laplace pressureWettingCapillarityContact angleCapillary lengthEquilibriumMeniscusCavitationCurvatureMetastabilityPressureSurface energy