Water horses: a mother and baby hippo swim at a zoo in Mexico City. Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

Michael Brooks: Hippo fossils offer clues about swimming

Fossilised guides to what the earth was like millions of years ago are rare, and understanding water tracks can make a difference.

Swimming is unlikely to be something you think about in scientific terms. If you’re doing it at the beach, it’s meant to be fun. And if you’re at a pool, it’s relaxing, or part of an exercise routine. To many scientists, though, swimming is an aide to understanding our place in the world.

Three British scientists have just published their observations of hippopotamus swimming. And not by any old hippo – they were interested in the swimming style of a now-extinct species called Hippopotamus gorgops.

Their interest was piqued by some peculiar tracks in what was once a small lake in northern Kenya. The tracks suggest that 1.4 million years ago a hippo had pushed itself off from the edge, before half walking and half swimming across the lake. It would have been the first observation of fossilised swim tracks made by mammals, so the scientists went to watch modern hippos swimming in a shallow pool to see whether the tracks made sense. They did: the observed hippos paddled through a pool, leaving similar hoof marks on the bottom.

Fossilised guides to what the earth was like millions of years ago are rare. We have to take advantage of every available clue, and understanding water tracks can make a difference. Last year, fossilised tracks that had been associated with a dinosaur stampede were reinterpreted as a river crossing.

We are unlikely ever to find out exactly how land-based dinosaurs swam, but it’s a good bet they looked nothing like we do in the pool. Most four-limbed land creatures swim doggy-paddle. When researchers took chimps and orang-utans for a swim, however, they found breaststroke was the natural instinct for staying afloat. It is probably easier for creatures built with shoulders and hips which have evolved to reach for branches to move limbs parallel to the surface of the water.

Not that our fastest swimmers use breaststroke any more. The front crawl has been in human use for thousands of years, but our observations of the natural world have made it even more efficient. Watching the swimming events at the Commonwealth Games, you’ll see several tricks copied from more natural swimmers.

At the turn, for instance, the competitors will empty their lungs, making them less buoyant. Doing this enables them to use their energy to move forward rather than maintain depth, which is why marine mammals and birds exhale deeply before diving into water.

It is important to remain streamlined when under water, so the leg kick has to be kept to no more than one-third of the body’s length – which is how much the dolphin’s tail moves naturally. Competitors are allowed to swim no more than 15 metres of each length under water and they will make the most of this, as the water there offers one-fifth the resistance of the drag just beneath the surface, research shows.

Swimmers can gain an advantage by mimicking penguins’ and dolphins’ streamlined shape and smooth surface. Hence, swimsuits are engineered to hold the human body in an optimum shape and to allow water to move past with minimal resistance.

That said, you can’t mimic everything in nature. Studies of the clawed frog showed the importance of a long push-off from the end of the pool: its pelvis actually slides along its backbone to give extra length to its legs. But not even the Olympic champion Michael Phelps could manage that. 

Michael Brooks holds a PhD in quantum physics. He writes a weekly science column for the New Statesman, and his most recent book is At the Edge of Uncertainty: 11 Discoveries Taking Science by Surprise.

This article first appeared in the 23 July 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double 2014

Getty
Show Hide image

“I see the world in rectangles”: Life as a Lego Master Builder

Nathan Sawaya stunned colleagues when he quit his job as a lawyer to play with Lego full-time. Now everyone from Lady Gaga to Barack Obama’s a fan.

Nathan Sawaya is describing his favourite Lego brick, shiny-eyed and grinning at the thought of it. But he’s not a child proudly displaying a beloved toy. He’s a 43-year-old former corporate lawyer, and well over six foot tall. The brick he is evangelising about is a small 1x2 socket plate with a stud in the centre of its top. He calls this a “Jumper”.

“You know your Lego lingo?” he asks, looking crestfallen when I shake my head. “It has only one stud instead of two, and it allows you to do even more detail because you can offset the brick a little bit. But in general, I focus on the rectangular pieces.”


Getty

Sawaya is one of the world’s eight Lego Master Builders, having left his job at a New York law firm when he was 32 to dedicate his life to building Lego constructions full-time. His most striking works include a torso of a man ripping his chest open with bricks spilling out, called Yellow, a lifesize T-Rex skeleton, a two-metre long model of Brooklyn Bridge, and replicas of famous paintings, including the Mona Lisa, and Edvard Munch’s Scream.

I meet him in a dark exhibition space in a tent on London’s Southbank, where his works are lit up around us. His latest constructions consist of a series of DC Comics superheroes, so we are surrounded by expressionless Supermen flying around us, capes realistically rippling, and a full-size Batmobile with glistening batwings. His boyish eagerness aside, Sawaya himself looks like a comic book villain – a hulking figure dressed in black from top to toe, with a long black overcoat, piercing eyes and thick dark hair.


Getty

Back in his early thirties when he was a lawyer, he would come home after a punishing day at work and do something creative – drawing, painting, sculpting with clay and wire. He soon began to experiment with Lego, constructing models out of sets he had lying around the house. His son, now 17, was never particularly interested in playing with it himself.

“Eventually I made the choice to leave the law firm behind and become a full-time artist who plays with toys,” he beams.

His family was supportive, his colleagues jealous, and his bosses confused – but it wasn’t long until Sawaya found success as a Lego artist. He has had exhibitions of his work on every continent but Antarctica, and gained some high-profile fans. When he was US President, Barack Obama posed with one of his installations – monochrome life-size men sitting on park benches in Washington – and Bill Clinton has a sculpture in his office, as does Lady Gaga in a music video.

“That is the magic of Lego,” he says of his popularity. “It has become a universal language in a way.”


Getty

Sawaya’s Master Builder status means he can buy all his bricks directly from Lego in bulk – not possible for us Lego civilians. He used to buy sets in toy shops and on eBay when starting out; now he can email asking for 500,000 red 2x4 bricks, say, and Lego ships them to him on wooden pallets. He has six million bricks on hand at his studio in Los Angeles. “Millions of each colour and shape and size,” he says. “And they’re all organised by shape and colour.”

He works away for hours at a time in his studio, with his dogs obediently at his feet, in what he describes as a “trance”. He plans designs on special “brick paper” like graph paper, but sometimes he free-builds from his imagination. “I do often see the world in rectangles,” he says, and sometimes he even dreams in bricks.

Just like children do with Lego sets, he simply snaps the bricks together – though he does dab glue between each brick, which triples the time it takes. He describes it as “therapeutic”, but says making a mistake can be “heartbreaking” – he can lose days and weeks of work at a time. “There may be times where I start questioning my choices in life,” he smiles.


Photos: Copyright Jane Hobson

Sawaya faced snobbery from the art world when he first began approaching galleries as a Lego artist. “Oh, is that cars and trucks and little castles?” was the response. He feels it’s now a more acceptable medium. “It makes art accessible,” he says. “And in doing that, it democratises the art world a bit. It allows people to relate to the art. Everyone has snapped a brick together at one point, every child has played a little bit with Lego.

“As an artist, my role is to inspire. And what better way to do it than through a medium everyone is familiar with? If someone sees a marble statue, they can appreciate it, but very few people have marble at home they can chip away at.”

The first Lego creation Sawaya can remember making was a little house, when he was first given the toy at the age of five. He then made a city that grew to 36 square feet. When he was ten, he was desperate for a dog. His parents refused, so he tore all his creations down and built a lifesize one. “It was blocky and very multi-coloured, of course,” he says. “But it was that ‘Aha!’ moment – when I realised it doesn’t have to be on the front of the box. It can be whatever I want.”

The Art of the Brick: DC Super Heroes is on at Upper Ground, Southbank, London, until 3 September 2017.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

0800 7318496