Anamorphosis — where it appears
Named by 31 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Wide angle is not distortion
A wide lens stretches shapes at the edge of the frame by exactly 1/cos θ — 3% at 28° across, 41% at 90°. Every bit of that is what a correct rectilinear projection must do, and every bit of it disappears if the picture is viewed from the point it was made for. Nobody views it from there.
Anamorphosis is only a viewpoint
A smear on a wall that resolves into a skull when the viewer stands in one particular place off to the side. It is not a trick added to perspective — it is perspective, with the centre of projection put somewhere nobody would naturally stand, and it is the clearest demonstration there is that every picture has such a point.
An anamorph at true size, on paper
An anamorph is the shadow of the intended picture, cast from the reader’s own eye. Every claim about a figure on a screen is quoted against an assumed display width, because nobody can know how wide a screen shows it; this one is not, because it ships a sheet in millimetres and states where to put an eye.
The cone that reads the floor
A conical mirror standing on a design turns it into a picture, and the map it performs is exact, one-to-one, and not a projectivity — a homography fitted to four of the marks returns those four to 7e-13 mm and puts the rest 2480 mm away, on a design 369 mm wide. The reason is that the cone turns the annulus inside out: the middle of the picture comes from the far edge of the floor and the rim from the near one.
The wall under the paint
An anamorph's design is a set of rays from a known eye, fixed before any paint is applied — so the marks are a calibration target whose rays are known exactly and whose shape is not. One ordinary photograph supplies the second ray for each mark and the wall comes back at the arithmetic floor, on a dished floor, a ridged one, and a floor with a step in it. What it says between the marks is nothing, by the sagitta.
A floor anamorph is three numbers
An anamorph is described everywhere as a picture stretched until only one viewpoint can read it, which says what it looks like and nothing about what it is. Cast one onto a floor and fit a map to the marks, and the map turns out to be a planar homology — a line of fixed points, one point off it, and a single ratio. Those three numbers are not a description of the eye. They are the eye.
The screen that names the seat
A flat screen shows a homography of the intended picture from every seat in the room, and an observer's own framing is free to be a homography too — so a flat screen's picture is consistent with every seat there is. A curved one is not, and the seat comes back out of the picture in all three directions, in units of the screen's own radius.
Where the anamorph still works
A picture correct from one point raises an obvious question that nobody answers with a number — how far may the eye move. The answer here is exact rather than approximate: a wrong viewpoint composes the intended picture with a central collineation whose axis is the line the picture stands on, so the error is zero along that line and grows linearly upward, and a step sideways costs precisely as much as the same step upward.
The seats a screen will accept
Collect the seats whose picture is within a pixel of the one intended and the result is a solid — half a cubic centimetre in front of a curved desk monitor, a litre in front of a curved television. Ten times the tolerance is a thousand times the room, which is the pavement anamorph's own law arriving on an object that has nothing else in common with it.
The marks name the place, not the height
Run the camera-recovery round trip on an anamorph — hand it the floor marks and ask for the eye back — and it returns the spot on the floor to eleven decimal places with nothing assumed at all. It does not return the height. What the marks fix is the product of the eye's height with the design's aspect ratio, and no amount of looking at the floor separates the two.
The ceiling that is not a plane
Paint the same design for the same eye onto a floor and onto a barrel vault, then fit the best possible homography to each set of marks. On the floor it misses by femtometres, because the map is a collineation and four marks determine every other. On the vault it misses by half a metre, and no choice of four marks helps — which is where every projective construction made for a floor stops applying.
Undoing a picture made on a curve
Three rounds of work here have measured what a curved receiving surface costs going forward — 5.67 mm on a dish, 9.07 mm on a ridge, 529.4 mm on a vault. None of them asked whether the design can be got back. It can, exactly, and the price is stated precisely: you have to supply the surface. Told the floor, the recovery returns a design to 1.1e-12 mm; told nothing, and fitting the four marks every rectification tool fits, it is 111 mm out.
A set cut for one eye
Build a colonnade four metres deep and cut every column so that its picture is the picture of one eighteen metres deep. The taper is forced rather than chosen — height and width both scale as the real depth over the intended one — and the match from the design eye is exact to sixteen decimal places. What gives it away is the second eye, and not by the ratio anybody would predict.
The room the eye may stand in
An anamorph is correct from one point, and one point is not a thing a person can occupy. Fix a tolerance on the picture and the set of eye positions that meet it is a solid — for a design 1.8 m wide and a ten-millimetre tolerance it is 36 mm long, 14 mm across and 31 cubic centimetres altogether, a spindle pointing along the line of sight. Ten times the tolerance is a thousand times the room.
A projector in the viewer's eye
A projector paints a wall along its own rays, so from the projector's own position the wall's shape is invisible — exactly, on a cylinder, on a dome and on a plane alike. Move a hand's breadth away and the residual is pixels. The one place a projector can stand and ignore the shape of what it is throwing onto is the eye of the person watching.
An anamorph has one eye
From the design point exactly — a camera's single eye — the floor marks give the design back to sixteen decimal places. A head carries two eyes 63 mm apart, and neither of them is the design point. The difference between the disparity the floor gives and the disparity an upright board would give runs to 47 arcminutes, against a stereoacuity of a few tens of arcseconds. This is why pavement paintings are photographed.
Three constructions, one map
A shadow cast on a floor, an anamorph painted on one, and a reflection in a mirror are usually treated as three different subjects, each with its own derivation and its own figure. Decomposed into their fixed points and lines, three of them are the same kind of map — a central collineation with a line of fixed points — and the fourth, a rectification, is not. That difference separates changing where a picture is seen from, from changing one picture into another.
The design that outruns the floor
A pavement anamorph of a design forty per cent of eye height needs two metres of floor. Eighty per cent needs thirteen. Ninety-four per cent needs fifty, ninety-nine per cent needs three hundred and seventeen, and the sky needs an infinite one — because the ray through a design point level with the eye never comes down. Depth times the height still to go, divided by the height already reached, is the eye's own distance at every point of the family.
The anamorph that crosses a corner
Cast one design onto a floor and the wall at the end of it, from one eye. Each plane gets a collineation of its own; the two agree on the line where the planes meet, exactly, because a point of that line is a point of both. What they do not agree about is scale — the design runs 7.8 times its own size along the floor and 2.0 times up the wall, and the jump at the join is a factor of 3.9.
The height a flat floor cannot give
The marks of a floor anamorph name the eye's position on the floor exactly and say nothing about how high it was — every candidate height explains them perfectly, to one part in a thousand trillion. That is a fact about planes rather than about anamorphs. Ripple the floor by six centimetres and the family collapses: the true height explains the marks exactly and the nearest wrong one, five centimetres away, leaves two millimetres on a design 1.8 metres wide.
A stair does not use all its faces
A corner anamorph is two homologies and a flight of nine steps is eighteen, which is arithmetic and is the least of it. What a flight has that a corner does not is that which faces exist and which faces can be painted are different questions. From the top of a descending flight not one riser is reachable at any eye height, so half the planes are unpaintable by construction — and from the bottom of an ascending one, 58 per cent of the picture lands on risers that are 36 per cent of the surface.
What an eye can paint
A flight of steps has eighteen faces and no eye reaches more than fifteen. Pointed at a cluster of blocks, a seating rake and a corridor with a doorway in it, the same measurement finds 8 of 21, 7 of 13 and 6 of 7 — and the plane, which offers its whole self to every eye, is the control that makes the law a law rather than a fact about stairs.
Facing the reader is not being reachable
A face turns toward the eye or it does not, and that is a dot product any reader can compute. Whether the eye’s rays actually land on it is a different question with a different answer — on a seating rake, three faces of ten that face the reader receive nothing, and they are 27 per cent of the facing area. On a corner the same test loses nothing at all, which is what makes the gap occlusion rather than arithmetic.
The eye that reaches the most
A higher eye buys the faces occlusion was hiding and loses design off the far end of the object, so "the best eye" is not a question with an answer until somebody says which of the two they are paying for. On three objects the answer is as high as possible; on a corridor with a doorway in it the two quantities cross and the best height is two and a bit metres.
A design that lands in two rooms
Cast a design down a corridor with a doorway in it and four per cent of the picture goes through the opening and lands on a wall three metres beyond, at 9.4 metres from the eye against the end wall's 6.4. The picture is continuous across the edge of the doorway and its scale jumps by half again, which is a corner anamorph's discontinuity with a gap in the middle of it instead of a fold.
The stretch decides the band
A design band chosen by geometry — the rays that meet the object — includes rays that graze along it, and a grazing ray lands two design points twenty times further apart than the design says. Cap the stretch at four and a bare floor keeps 55 per cent of its design, a corner 80, and the top of a descending flight all of it.
One flight, two pictures
From the top of a descending flight every riser faces away, so the design lands entirely on treads. From the foot of the same flight the risers take 68 per cent of the design at a median stretch of 1.4, and the treads take the rest at a median of 2.6. Give each reader the faces the other cannot use and one staircase carries two pictures, with no face asked to hold both.
A fold names the height
A pavement anamorph’s marks fix where the reader must stand and leave how tall they are entirely free — every height explains the marks exactly, to the last bit. Put one crease in the floor and the freedom is gone, because two degrees of fold makes a ten-centimetre error in the height leave six tenths of a millimetre, and a right angle makes it nine.
A picture with no eye
The anamorph field measured which parts of an object one eye can paint, and every finding in it is about a point. A parallel projection has no such point, so the same questions have a different shape — and the two that change are the dimension of the answer and the map onto each face. The one that does not change is occlusion, which is routinely assumed away.
A flight that has ends
A real staircase has three families of faces and the rule proposed last round predicted three pictures. It supports four, because a picture is fixed by a direction and the flight's two sides point opposite ways — one kind of face that no single direction reaches both of. The rule counts words and the object counts orientations.
One face, one scale
A design carried from a point onto a flat face varies in scale by nearly six across that one face; the same design carried along a direction varies by 1.000000000. The stretch is reported here as the two singular values of the local map rather than as one directional difference, which is the honest form and which the previous round owed.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Receiving surfaceViewing positionHomographyProjective mapStation pointOcclusionPicture surfacePlanar homologyConditioningDemonstrationForeshorteningCollineation