Differential Forms
Differential Forms
Jessica J. Zhang
October 8, 2020
R Roughly speaking, a differential form is just “something we can integrate.” When we evaluateR the integral
xdx, the xdx part is itself a differential form. In a line integral, where we suddenly have C f dx + gdy,
the entire integrand, namely f dx + gdy, is now a differential form. Later on, when working with higher
dimensions, we can have more complicated integrands like f dxdy + gdxdz, which would actually be more
accurately written with wedges, i.e., as f dx ∧ dy + gdx ∧ dz.
Now, it isn’t immediately obvious why it’s useful to talk about the integrands on their own, or why it is
useful to suddenly invent a new operation (called a wedge product).
The main motivation comes when we are trying to integrate over spaces more complex than Euclidean
space. These spaces are called smooth manifolds, and it is often difficult to integrate over them using the
traditional, coordinate-based approach.1
But another, equally important, motivation is that the relationship between integration and changes of
coordinate is often unnecessarily complicated. In general, even linear changes of coordinate require that we
multiply the integrand by some determinant, called the Jacobian. For example, let’s try to integrate x2 + y 2
over, say, the unit circle D. In Cartesian coordinates, the integral we would need to evaluate2 is
ZZ Z 1 Z √1−y2
π
(x2 + y 2 ) dA = (x2 + y 2 ) dxdy = .
D 0 0 2
But in polar coordinates, we can’t simply substitute x = r cos θ and y = r sin θ to find that the integral is
ZZ Z 2π Z 1
2 2π
r dA = r2 drdθ = .
D 0 0 3
In particular, as we learn in calculus, the dA part also changes upon a change of coordinates. To figure out
how it changes, we take the determinant of a matrix determined by the partial derivatives of r and θ with
respect to x and y and, basically, get that we need to multiply the whole thing by a factor of r. This gives
us that the integral is actually ZZ Z 2π Z 1
2 π
r dA = r3 drdθ = ,
D 0 0 2
which is what we expect.
Finding the Jacobian when working with R2 isn’t the worst thing in the world. But it gets a bit
cumbersome in higher dimensions. And, more importantly, it makes it rather difficult to do algebraic
manipulations with integrals. Differential forms effectively encode the change without relying on an outside
multiplier (e.g., the Jacobian). In particular, we should think of differential forms (i.e., integrands) as a
way to assign a function to each point in such a way that the assigned functions change as the coordinates
change. This eliminates many of the complications which arise from changes of coordinate.
Differential forms take some buildup to introduce, but they’re actually quite familiar things. In fact,
the first terms in each of the three equations above, which takes the integral with respect to some vague,
amorphous entity “A,” show us exactly how we want differential forms to work! In particular, transferring
from Cartesian to polar coordinates doesn’t mess up dA; instead, it’s that the relationship between dA
1 This basically comes from the fact that manifolds have less structure than Rn . The standard formula for a line integral, for
example, involves some notion of a metric—which not all manifolds have and which we do not always want to require. And taking
integrals the traditional way basically always requires a choice of coordinates, which often proves unnecessarily cumbersome.
Differential forms bypass this all—while retaining much of the traditional notation (helpful for intuition, consistency, and general
happiness).
2 Warning: Do not try to integrate this by hand.
1
and dxdy is different than that between dA and drdθ. The problem is that dA doesn’t really encode the
information we need, because it doesn’t tell us how to change drdθ to be equal to dxdy. Our goal is to figure
out how to make the dA have meaning and, in the process, make dxdy and drdθ behave just as nicely as the
dA does.
1 Tensors
As we said, differential forms are, first and foremost, ways to assign functions. In particular, they assign to
each point in a given space a specific type of function, known as an alternating tensor.
Let V be a vector space. Then a (covariant) k-tensor on V is a function
α : V × ··· × V → R
| {z }
k copies
α(v, w) = v 1 w2 − v 2 w1
is alternating. (Note that we index different vectors with subscripts, while indexing the coordinates of each
vector with superscripts; we will stick to this convention throughout this handout.)
3 The reason for using the dual V ∗ , rather than V , comes from a different, more abstract definition of tensors as elements
of the so-called tensor product of vector spaces. In this case, a covariant tensor is simply an element of the tensor product
V ∗ ⊗ · · · ⊗ V ∗.
2
Even if α and β are alternating tensors, there is no guarantee that their tensor product α ⊗ β is.
Example 1.3. Suppose α is the 2-tensor in Example 1.2 and β is the 1-tensor taking everything to 1. Then
where Sk is the set of all permutations of k elements. By sgn σ, we mean the sign of the permutation; this
is either +1 or −1.
The actual formula of Alt(α) is not critical to remember. The main idea is that it is obtained by applying
α on every possible permutation of the vi ’s, and then taking some alternating sum of the results. When
k = 2, this gives
1
Alt(α)(v, w) = (α(v, w) − α(w, v)).
2
Note that Alt(α) is indeed alternating in this case, because
1
Alt(α)(w, v) = (α(w, v) − α(v, w)) = −Alt(α)(v, w).
2
When k = 3, we have
1
Alt(α)(u, v, w) = (α(u, v, w) − α(v, u, w) − α(u, w, v) − α(w, v, u) + α(v, w, u) + α(w, u, v)).
6
It is relatively simple, though tedious, to check in this case, too, that Alt(α) is alternating. Indeed, we
generally have the following proposition.
Proposition 1.4. The alternation of a k-tensor α is an alternating k-tensor. That is, Alt(α) ∈ Λk (V ∗ ).
Thus we should think of Alt(α) as simply an alternating tensor defined by α. The particulars of the
definition are not very important to us.
(k + `)!
α∧β = Alt(α ⊗ β).
k!`!
More explicitly, we have
1 X
(α ∧ β)(v1 , . . . , vk+` ) = (sgn σ)α(vσ(1) , . . . , vσ(k) )β(vσ(k+1) , . . . , vσ(k+`) ).
k!`!
σ∈Sk+`
3
Proposition 1.5. The wedge product satisfies is bilinear, associative, and anticommutative, which means
that α ∧ β = (−1)k` β ∧ α. Moreover, suppose V (and therefore V ∗ ) is an n-dimensional vector space. Let
V ∗ have basis {ε1 , . . . , εn }. Then εi is a 1-tensor and
is a basis for Λk (V ∗ ).
The main takeaway of this proposition is just that the wedge product behaves nicely, is anticommutative,
and allows us to construct a natural basis for the vector space of all alternating k-tensors on V . Often, we
denote εi1 ∧ · · · ∧ εik as εI , where I = (i1 , . . . , ik ) is an ascending multi-index, i.e., where i1 < · · · < ik .
An important note
The constant multiple in the definition of the wedge product is technically not necessary, and is not always
included, but is helpful because it provides a particularly nice (i.e., constant-free) basis for Λk (V ∗ ).
Recall that determinants are alternating tensors themselves. In fact, determinants basically define our
basis elements εI . In particular, the typical definition of εI is actually as the k-tensor such that
i
ε 1 (v1 ) . . . εi1 (vk )
Recall that εi1 is a 1-tensor, meaning that it takes in a vector and returns some real number, so this definition
makes sense.
Generally, we then prove that the collection of all εI for ascending multi-indices I is a basis for Λk (V ∗ ).
We finally show that εi1 ∧ · · · ∧ εik = εI , where I = (i1 , . . . , ik ).
The proof of each of these propositions is relatively involved and not particularly enlightening. However,
it is worth being aware of this determinant definition of the basis vectors for Λk (V ∗ ).
In particular, it gives us the following determinant-based interpretation for wedge products of 1-forms.
Proposition 1.6. Given 1-forms ω 1 , . . . , ω k and vectors v1 , . . . , vk , we have
Proof. When ω i = εi , this is true by the note above that εi1 ∧ · · · ∧ εik = εI . Now simply observe that both
sides are linear in ω i , from which the proposition follows.
2 Differential forms
Differential forms basically assign an alternating tensor to each point of the space over which we are per-
forming our desired integration.
To be more specific, let M ⊂ Rn be a domain of integration. This just means that it is a bounded subset
of Euclidean space which doesn’t include its boundary.4 At each point p ∈ Rn , let Tp Rn denote the tangent
space. This basically consists of all the possible directions we can go from p, which we should think of as
just a copy of Rn whose origin is at p. If Rn has coordinates x1 , . . . , xn , then we write the basis of Tp Rn as
∂ ∂
,..., n .
∂x1 p ∂x p
4
Note that (Tp Rn )∗ , which we typically just denote as Tp∗ Rn , also has dimension n.
Then a (differential) k-form defined on M is just a smooth alternating k-tensor field, i.e., a smooth
function ω which assigns to each point p ∈ M an alternating k-tensor ωp = ω(p) ∈ Λk (Tp∗ Rn ). We denote
the set of all differential k-forms on M as Ωk (M ).
The last part of the definition that we haven’t explained yet is the word “smooth.” In general, the issue
of smoothness only comes into play if we are trying to check if something is or isn’t a differential form; we
won’t worry ourselves about that here, and will just assume that everything that looks like a differential
form is one, and so we can safely ignore the smoothness criterion.5
Example 2.1. Let f (x, y) = x2 + y 2 . This is a smooth function. This gives a smooth 2-form ω taking p to
ωp = f (x, y)α,
where α is the 2-tensor in Example 1.2 taking (v, w) to v 1 w2 − v 2 w1 and (x, y) are the Cartesian coordinates
of p. The unit disk (without boundary) in R2 is an example of a domain of integration. These two will be
our prototypical examples in the remainder of this paper.
dfp : Tp Rn → Tf (p) R ∼
=R
s
X ∂f
v 7→ (v), (2)
∂xi
i=1 p
where v = (v 1 , . . . , v n ). Note that the xj is a map and xi is a coordinate, so dxj is the differential 1-form
which assigns to each point p the constant map pj .
Observe, moreover, that {dxj } is a basis for T ∗ Rn , which is shorthand for saying that {(dx1 )p , . . . , (dxn )p }
is a basis for Tp∗ Rn for every p ∈ M . After all, the basis of Tp∗ Rn can be seen to be equal6 to the collection
of functions f 1 , . . . , f n such that
! (
j ∂ 0 if i 6= j
f = δi,j = .
∂xi p 1 otherwise
5 Toactually make this definition, we basically need to put a smooth structure on p Λk (Tp∗ Rn ). But that’s kind of annoying,
`
and not very interesting. As long as you don’t try to break this definition, it won’t break.
6 That is, the typical proof that the dual space has the same dimension as the original space uses this as its basis.
5
Yet the definition of dxj shows that it satisfies this property, and so {(dxj )p } is indeed a basis for Tp∗ Rn . In
particular, every 1-form can be written as
n
X
ω= ωj dxj ,
j=1
where
n
X
ωp (v) = ωj (v 1 , . . . , v n )(dxj )p .
j=1
Note that ωp denotes the alternating 1-tensor ω(p), while ωj denotes the j-th “coordinate” of ω.
In Proposition 1.5, we said that a basis for Λk (Tp∗ Rn ) was given by the wedges of basis elements for Tp∗ Rn .
Hence, taking all p ∈ M at once, it follows by definition that a basis for Ωk (M ) is given by the wedges of
basis elements for Ω1 (M ), where everything is taken pointwise. In other words, every ω ∈ Ωk (M ) has the
property that there exist unique maps ωI such that for each p ∈ M we can write
X
ωp (v) = ωI (v 1 , . . . , v s )(dxi1 )p ∧ · · · ∧ (dxik )p .
I=(i1 ,...,ik )
We are summing over all ascending k-indices, i.e., indices I = (i1 , . . . , ik ) where i1 < · · · < ik . As shorthand,
we write X
ω= ωI dxI .
Here dxI denotes the wedge of all dxij ’s, not the differential of some function xI . Note that we are using a
slightly different definition of the wedge product, taken between differential forms, rather than tensors: The
wedge product of two differential forms ω and η to be the differential form ω ∧ η which takes p to ωp ∧ ηp .
Example 2.2. Suppose we have coordinates (x, y) on R2 . (Note that we can do this exercise with any
coordinates on R2 , e.g., polar coordinates.) Then dx is the map taking v to its x-coordinate, and similarly
for dy. Thus, at every point p, the 2-form dx ∧ dy takes (v, w) to
h i 1 h i
2 Alt (dx)p ⊗ (dy)p )(v, w) = 2 · · (dx ⊗ dy)(v, w) − (dx ⊗ dy)(w, v)
2
= dx(v)dy(w) − dx(w)dy(v).
ω = (x2 + y 2 ) dx ∧ dy.
X
dω = dωI ∧ dxI ∈ Ωk+1 (M ).
Recall that ωI is just a function, so dωI can be computed as in Equation (2). Moreover, when writing dxI ,
the xI does not denote some function; instead, we have dxI = dxi1 ∧ · · · ∧ dxik . To be more explicit, we have
! " n ! #
X X X ∂ωI
I i i1 ik
d ωI dx = dx ∧ dx ∧ · · · ∧ dx .
i=1
∂xi
I I
6
Note that d really denotes infinitely many derivative functions. If we were being particularly scrupulous,
we would have d0 taking 0-forms to 1-forms, and d1 taking 1-forms to 2-forms, and so on. But we can ignore
the subscripts because which d we are using is implied automatically by the form of which we are taking
the exterior derivative (i.e., if ω ∈ Ωk (M ), then the d in dω is clearly “dk ,” where we borrow our slightly
tongue-in-cheek definitions of d0 , d1 , etc.).
For convenience, we collect a few properties of exterior differentiation below.
Proposition 2.3. The exterior derivative satisfies the following properties:
• If ω, η ∈ Ωk (M ) and a, b ∈ R, then d(aω + bη) = adω + bdη;
• If ω ∈ Ωk (M ) and η ∈ Ω` (M ), then d(ω ∧ η) = dω ∧ η + (−1)k` ω ∧ dη; and
• For any ω ∈ Ωk (M ), we have (d ◦ d)(ω) = 0 ∈ Ωk+2 (M ).7
Example 2.4. Recall our “prototypical example” of ω = (x2 + y 2 ) dx ∧ dy. Its exterior derivative is
dω = d(x2 + y 2 ) ∧ (dx ∧ dy) = (2x dx + 2y dy) ∧ (dx ∧ dy).
But because the wedge product is anticommutative, this is simply equal to
2x − 2y) dx ∧ dy.
7
which is important enough that we’ll spend the next section talking about it.
This is a rather unintuitive definition, but should be thought of as the natural way to pull a differential
form on N back into one on M .
Example 3.2. As before, let ω = (x2 + y 2 ) dx ∧ dy be a 2-form on R2 . Consider the substitution x =
r cos θ, y = r sin θ. This amounts to the identity diffeomorphism G on R2 , where we consider the domain
under rθ-coordinates and the codomain under xy-coordinates. More specifically, G takes (r, θ) to (x, y) =
(r cos θ, r sin θ). Then we find G∗ (ω)p is the map taking (v, w) to
Using properties of the exterior derivative—namely, the fact that d ◦ d = 0 and that the wedge product is a
bilinear operation—we can find that this is equal to
Notice the extra factor of r, just as we’d have in the formula for changing an integral from Cartesian to polar
coordinates! (Hint: This isn’t a coincidence.)
The pullback helpfully is well-behaved with respect to wedge products and exterior differentiation. In
fact, you can try to verify the following proposition.
(c) Pullbacks commute with the exterior differentiation operator: G∗ (dω) = d(G∗ ω).
The most helpful part of the pullback is that for n-forms on Rn , we have the following theorem, which
shows that the pullback accounts for the Jacobian, thus encoding a change of variables which usually would
need to be a different term in our integrand. This effectively is the heart of integrating with differential
forms.
8
Theorem 3.4. Suppose M, N ⊆ Rn are domains of integration. Suppose, moreover, that the Rn in which M
is embedded has coordinates (xi ), while the Rn in which N is embedded has coordinates (y i ). If G : M → N
is a smooth map, then
Note that xi ◦ G is, by definition, the i-th coordinate Gi of G under the x-coordinates of M . Hence this is
equal to
(f ◦ G) dG1 ∧ · · · ∧ dGn .
But Proposition 1.6 implies that
j
1 n ∂ ∂ j ∂ ∂G
(dG ∧ · · · ∧ dG ) 1
, . . . , n = det dG i
= det = det DG,
∂x ∂x ∂x ∂xi
where the second equality follows from the definition of the differential of a function. This implies that the
left side of Equation (3) takes the vector of partial derivative functions to
(f ◦ G)(det DG).
Basically by definition, the right side of the equation also takes (∂/∂x1 , . . . , ∂/∂xn ) to (f ◦ G)(det DG).
Again, all this really says is that the pullback takes into account the Jacobian determinant and, as such,
it adjusts to changes of coordinate. Compare this to Example 3.2.
Proof. Let’s use (x1 , . . . , xn ) for the coordinates on M and (y 1 , . . . , y n ) for those on N . Write ω = f dy 1 ∧
· · · ∧ dy n . Recall the change of variables formula, which tells us that
Z Z Z
ω= f dV = (f ◦ G)| det DG| dV.
N N N
9
If G is orientation-preserving, the Jacobian determinant det DG is nonnegative. Thus, using Theorem 3.4,
we find that this is equal to
Z Z
1 n
(f ◦ G)(det DG) dx ∧ · · · ∧ dx = G∗ ω.
D D
Otherwise, if G is orientation-reversing, the determinant det DG is negative, so taking the absolute value
of it swaps the sign of the integral. Other than that, it is the same proof.
Example 3.5. One final time, let’s look at ω = dx ∧ dy. Let M and N be the unit circle with polar and
Cartesian coordinates, respectively. Recall from our previous example that G∗ ω = r dr ∧ dθ. Now observe
that the left side of the equation in Theorem 3.1 is
Z Z Z
G∗ ω = r3 dr ∧ dθ = r3 drdθ.
M M M
We calculated this integral in the very beginning: π2 . On the right side of the equation, we have
Z Z Z
2 2 π
ω= (x + y ) dx ∧ dy = (x2 + y 2 ) dxdy = .
N N N 2
10