Fourier, drawn

Epicycles — Drawing
with Rotating Circles

Panel 02 turned one rotating point into a wave, and panel 05 added tiny arrows together to get probability. Put those ideas together and you get the most hypnotic fact in Fourier analysis: chain up enough circles, each spinning at its own steady rate, and their tip will trace out any shape you like — a square wave, a star, a signature.

01
A square wave, built from spinning circles

Start with panel 02's trick — a spinning arrow whose height traces a sine wave — then stack more arrows tip-to-tail, each a bit smaller and spinning a bit faster. Read off the height of the final tip and plot it against time.

square(t) = (4/π)·[ sin t + ⅓ sin 3t + ⅕ sin 5t + … ]

A single circle gives a plain sine. Add the third harmonic, then the fifth, and the bumps flatten into shelves. With enough odd harmonics the wobble collapses into flat tops and vertical cliffs — a square wave, assembled entirely from smooth rotations.

02
Chain enough circles and you can draw anything

Nothing says the arrows have to stay in a line. Let each rotate freely in the complex plane and the running tip sweeps out a 2-D curve. Any closed outline is just a complex-valued signal, and its Fourier coefficients are the recipe: one rotating vector per term.

f(t) = Σ cₙ · ei·n·2πt

Sort the vectors biggest-first: the largest circle blocks out the rough position, and each smaller one adds a finer wiggle. This is exactly how vector-art "draw with Fourier" toys work — and, at heart, how JPEG and MP3 store a picture or a sound as a short list of coefficients. Switch shapes and dial the count up and down.

03
More terms, sharper corners — and the Gibbs ears

Convergence isn't perfectly polite. Piling on harmonics squeezes the reconstruction (solid) toward the ideal square wave (dashed) almost everywhere — but right at each vertical jump a stubborn overshoot refuses to shrink.

Add more terms and the little "ears" get narrower and crowd closer to the edge, yet their height stubbornly parks at about 9% of the jump and stays there forever. This is the Gibbs phenomenon — the reason a sharp edge in an image, reconstructed from finitely many frequencies, comes back with faint ringing beside it.