centre of projection — where it appears
Named by 70 essays across 16 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The point you have to stand at
A perspective picture is a projection through a centre, and scaling that centre's distance to the width the picture is actually shown at gives a distance in centimetres. Shown 160 mm wide, a 40° picture is correct from 22 cm and a 90° one from 8 cm. Nobody stands there, and that single fact explains most of what gets called distortion.
The divide is postponed, not avoided
A renderer does not divide by depth. It multiplies by a four-by-four matrix that carries the depth in a fourth coordinate and divides later, and the postponement is not an optimisation — it is what makes clipping and texture interpolation possible at all. The matrix and this site's pinhole put every point on the same pixel to five parts in a hundred trillion.
A curved mirror has no eye
A flat mirror is a second camera — reflect the eye in the plane and every line of sight passes through the reflected point, to 2.8e-12 mm. Curve the mirror and the point is gone. Over 20 cm of a mirror ball two metres across, the lines of sight miss their own best-fitting point by 2.8 mm, and by 52.9 mm on a ball half a metre across. What replaces the eye is not a worse eye; it is nothing.
A picture through water has no viewpoint
Continue the rays of a refracted picture into the water and fit them to a common point. They miss it by ten millimetres. The same fit with the water taken away misses by zero, which is what makes ten millimetres a measurement rather than a number.
What happens behind the eye
A point behind the camera has a perfectly plausible image. Dividing by a negative fourth coordinate flips both signs, so the point lands through the principal point on the far side of the frame, and a segment crossing the eye plane is drawn straight, inside the frame, and running in exactly the opposite direction — a direction cosine of −1.0000.
Where the focus went
If the reflected rays do not meet at a point, they meet each other in pairs, and the curve they are all tangent to is what the mirror has instead of a focus. On a sphere of 1.6 m vertex radius it is 184.1 mm long and has a cusp; near the axis it sits at R/2, which is why a small enough spherical mirror passes for a good one. This is the bright shape in the bottom of a coffee cup, computed rather than admired.
The centre a scroll does not have
Fit a common point to the rays of one section of a handscroll and it misses by metres. The miss is not a residual to be tightened — it is exactly the standard deviation of the eye's own track, it grows linearly with how much is unrolled, and it goes to zero only for a section of no width.
Every row is a different camera
A shutter that reads its rows one after another images each of them from wherever the camera was at that instant, so a frame is a stack of projections indexed by height — a handscroll with the roll running down the picture. Its rays miss their own best centre by the spread of the eye's track, at a ratio of 0.988, and a global shutter's meet to 2 × 10⁻¹⁶ m.
The one shape that focuses
A paraboloid takes every ray parallel to its axis exactly through one point — 4.8e-9 mm of envelope across a 1.24 m aperture, which is arithmetic. A sphere with the same vertex curvature spreads the same bundle over 184.1 mm. So there is exactly one curved mirror that is a projection through a centre, it is a projection for exactly one bundle of rays, and every telescope in the world is built out of that sentence.
A centre and a measure are exclusive
Eight drawing systems, measured on five questions, with the pinhole as a row rather than the header. Exactly one has a centre of projection and it is exactly the one with no true measure — and loosening the measure test by a hair lets it in, which is what says the boundary is real.
A frame is an interval
An exposure is not an instant, so a frame is an integral of projections and every moving point draws a streak. The streak is straight, because the image of a straight path is straight — and its length goes as one over the depth, so two objects at 3 m and 6 m blur by lengths in the ratio 2.000. No single kernel describes the frame.
The eye is a place, not a point
Rotate a camera about the wrong point and the sky still stitches perfectly while the foreground slides. The misregistration falls as one over the distance, exactly — which is what says the fault is the pivot and not the lens.
A scroll is not a panorama
Both draw straight world lines as curves, and one of them is a projection. A rotating eye keeps its centre exactly however far it turns; a translating eye has none at all. Curvature and centrelessness are independent properties, and conflating them is the standard mistake about both objects.
What perspective gave up
The field ends by turning its own battery on the system it has been comparing everything against. Four quantities a pinhole destroys that the other systems keep, each measured by the same computation as the systems it is set against, and each the price of the one thing perspective has and they do not.
A projector is a camera run backwards
Turn a projector fifteen degrees from square and it throws a trapezium; keystone correction cannot add light outside it, so it shrinks the picture until it fits and discards a sixth of the panel. And the instrument itself comes back out of the picture it threw — 2880 panel pixels recovered against 2880, by the function the wrong field wrote for hand-drawn cubes.
The shadow of a ball is a conic
A cone cut by a plane is a conic section — which is the definition of the phrase, not an analogy — and the shadow of a ball is exactly that cut. So the shadow closes or runs to the horizon depending on where the lamp is, and the condition is not what anyone guesses: it is that the lamp is above the top of the ball. The ball's distance appears nowhere in it.
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 lamp, out of the picture
Two posts and their shadows put the light's position in a photograph, exactly, with nothing given but the drawn lines and the camera's own horizon. Two posts. One gives a residual of zero and an answer that is a whole one-parameter family — the sharpest counter-example there is to the idea that a small residual means a right answer, met again in a new field.
A picture with two eyes in it
Several traditions draw the floor from one place and the people on it from another. No single camera produces both, as an earlier essay showed. What such a picture actually is has a measurement attached: give the rays their world points and ask for the one place they all pass through, and at a stride of separation the best answer misses them by six tenths of a metre.
The dome knows its offset in units of itself
A dome port centred on the entrance pupil bends nothing at all, exactly. One that is not bends rays by an amount that depends on the decentring over the radius and on nothing else, so a ten-centimetre dome six millimetres off centre and a twenty-centimetre dome twelve millimetres off centre are the same instrument, bit for bit. The picture carries the ratio, which means it never carries the radius.
The centre has an area
Every theorem of perspective follows from a projection through a point, and no instrument has one. Give the pupil a radius and each world point images as a disc — whose centre is the pinhole's mark to 5.7 × 10⁻¹⁴ millimetres, at every aperture, every distance and every field angle. The geometry survives exactly; only the sharpness is spent.
A shadow can be un-cast
A shadow looks like a lossy record — a flattened smear with the shape half thrown away. It is nothing of the kind. The map from the occluder's plane to the floor is a plane projectivity, so it has an inverse, and the outline comes back out of its own shadow exactly. What breaks it is not the light and not the shape: it is the floor not being flat.
Two triangles and the line nobody drew
Desargues' theorem is the reason a hand-drawn shadow construction closes. An object and its shadow are two figures in perspective from the lamp; the theorem says their corresponding sides meet, pairwise, on one line — which is the ground line. So the closure a draughtsman treats as confirmation that the work is accurate is a theorem they cannot violate.
The plane is a choice
A projection has a centre and a surface, and they move independently. Keep the eye and turn the picture plane and every point of any scene lands where one 3×3 matrix says, to 2.5e-13 px. Move the eye instead and the matrix fitted to four points is exact at those four and out by 32.0 px everywhere else. The first is a homography of the picture; the second is parallax, and nothing about the picture can undo it.
The second eye is a shear
A picture drawn from two eyes is a picture drawn from one, of a different room. The map that puts the second eye away holds the picture plane still point by point and carries one centre onto the other, and the member of its family that matters turns out to be affine — a shear along the line joining the eyes, growing with depth, which is the same operation an oblique drawing performs.
The hole a scene actually sees
The stop is not the centre of projection. Model a 50 mm lens with its stop 18 mm behind the glass and the chief rays from every object distance cross the axis at one point 28.1 mm on the other side of the lens — 10.1 mm from the stop and 1.56 times its size — to 3.6 × 10⁻¹⁵ mm. That point is the entrance pupil, and it is where a picture is a projection from.
A page is bounded by a divide, not a centre
A pinhole draws the whole of an infinite ground in a bounded patch of page — each doubling of distance half the one before — while a handscroll spends the same page on every doubling and an isometric drawing spends three quarters of its page on the last one. It is tempting to credit the centre. A crossed-slits camera, whose rays miss any common point by 0.46 m, is bounded too: what does it is dividing by depth in both directions of the page.
Straightening does not move the eye
Correct a photograph's converging verticals and what comes out agrees with a level camera at the same point — one the correction was never shown — to 3e-13 px, with the verticals parallel to 0e+0°. The cross-ratio of four points along a ground line reads 1.3333 before and after, so the corrected picture measures exactly what the original measured, from exactly where the original was taken and nowhere else.
Counting the eyes needs the room
How many eyes made a picture is not a question the picture can be asked. Told what the room really measures, the rays refuse to meet and a second eye has been caught; told instead that the room is the one the picture is consistent with, the same rays meet exactly, at the first eye. The refusal is real and it belongs to the room.
One picture of a ball
The outline of a ball in a photograph fixes the cone of rays that graze it, so the cone's axis is the direction of the ball's centre and its half-angle is the arcsine of radius over distance — both exactly, and neither of them separately. A ball a hundred and thirty-seven times larger, a hundred and thirty-seven times further away, draws the identical conic. And the drawn ellipse's own centre is not the image of the ball's.
One surface, two images
A water surface reflects what is above it and refracts what is below it in the same photograph, from the same plane. The reflected half has a centre of projection to 1 × 10⁻¹⁴ m and every theorem about central projection applies to it; the refracted half misses its own best-fitting point by 28.6 mm and none of it does. And the landscape manual's rule for drawing a reflection turns out to be the epipole placed at infinity, which is why it costs nothing at zero tilt and 11.5 px at twenty-two degrees.
A lamp lights less than half a ball
Everyone knows a sphere is half lit. It is half lit by a source at infinity and by nothing else: a lamp two radii away lights a quarter of it, and the boundary it draws is a circle offset toward the light rather than a great circle. The offset is R²/D, which means a photograph of a lit ball carries the distance to whatever lit it.
Two grounds, and what the second one costs
The miniature convention wants its floor drawn from overhead and its figures drawn from in front, and the two optical axes it asks for are exactly ninety degrees apart. Read as a picture with two centres rather than as a picture with none, the arrangement stops being a contradiction and becomes a quantity: the rays of the composite miss their own best point by more than a metre, and the absorbed reading is a floor that leans.
A ball of water has no eye either
A flat interface is not a projection through a centre and misses by ten millimetres. A sphere of water misses by more than that on a ball the size of a plum — 1.3 mm on a fifty-millimetre radius, and the axis crossings spread over 18.6 mm at seven tenths of the aperture. But at two per cent of the radius the same fit returns 24 nanometres, so a ball does have a centre — one at zero aperture and none by the time it is gathering any light.
A parallel floor under a perspective room
Draw the floor without diminution and the people on it with it, and the picture has a centre at infinity glued to a centre in the room. The same map absorbs it — but there is no shear this time, and there cannot be: bringing a point in from infinity is not something an affine map does, so the room the picture is equally a picture of has its midpoints moved as well as its angles.
The entrance pupil walks with the angle
The place a picture is a projection from is not a point in a wide-angle design. Chief rays traced through a strongly curved front element cross the axis 15.07 mm behind its front vertex when they are nearly on the axis, and 4.23 mm nearer the front at 80° of field. So no pivot makes a wide panorama seam clean: at one metre, pivoting at the paraxial pupil leaves 4.39 arcminutes of misregistration along a seam, and the best pivot still leaves 1.41.
A straight stick in water is a kink and a curve
The bent stick is described as one kink at the surface. Traced point by point, the image two level eyes see leaves the surface 14.96° off a stick leaning 30° — the same whichever way it leans — and then keeps turning, by 1.11° when it leans away from the eye and 7.62° when it leans toward it. A photograph from the eye shows the kink and almost none of the curve, 1.63 px over 166 px, and when the stick leans straight toward or away from the eye it shows neither: the picture is one straight line.
The tenth row has neither
A crossed-slits camera divides by depth in both page directions and its rays miss any common point by 0.354 m. Put on the comparison table it prices 38.8% on length, 69.9% on area and 58.2% on angle against a pinhole's 39.5%, 70.8% and 60.9%, and its midpoint drift is 15.6% — the pinhole's own figure. It keeps a true scale in no direction at all, and it bows a straight run of ground by 1.11 px, which no row with a centre does. Giving up the point buys nothing and costs a third thing besides.
Nothing moves when the object does
Slide a box 3.2 m across the world and its parallel drawing is the same drawing translated 131.5 px — every edge the same length to 4e-14 px. The perspective drawing of the same move changes its edge lengths by 87.2%. One family's pictures depend on where a thing is; the other's do not, and almost everything the two families disagree about follows from that.
The lamp is the second eye
One photograph, one lamp whose position is known, and a point's place in space comes back to 9e-16 m — the camera's ray through the point, the lamp's ray through the image of its shadow, and the intersection of two lines. It is triangulation with one of the two eyes replaced by a light, and it degrades exactly like a stereo pair: 5.9 mm of depth per pixel at 39° between the rays, 1 mm at 15.4°.
A turning frame can be straightened; a travelling one cannot
Read a frame row by row while the camera turns at a radian a second and every point is 21 px from where a global shutter would put it, at every depth alike. Turn each row's rays back and every point returns to six trillionths of a pixel, with no depth known. Travel at 3 m/s instead, and the best correction that needs no depth is exact at one distance and 21 px wrong at 2 m.
The exclusion is two conditions, not ten rows
Ten systems have been measured and none has both a centre and a true measure. Ten is not a proof. Swept across the whole two-slit family — eighty-one members, both parameters run out to infinity — a centre appears at exactly the eight members whose slits sit at one finite distance, a measure at exactly the seventeen with a slit at infinity, and at none of them both. The case the two conditions appear to leave open is closed by the rays themselves: one divide is a slit, and eight page points use 6.02 m of it.
A light far enough away
The evidence in a photograph that its light is in the room rather than at infinity is one number — how far below the horizon the shadow lines put the light's foot. It falls off as one over the distance, from 211 px at 4 m to 10.8 px at 266 m, while the recovered height stays exact to 5e-13 of itself. What fails first is not the arithmetic; it is the evidence, and one pixel of error costs 0.21 mm of height at the near end and 0.07 m at the far one.
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.
Turning and travelling blur different worlds
A subject 8 m away crosses the frame at 4 m/s, and the camera keeps it sharp over a thirtieth of a second. Turn to follow it and every still thing blurs by the same 13.5 px, whatever its depth. Travel beside it and the still world blurs as one over its depth — 49 px at 2 m, 1.5 px at 64 m — while everything moving with the subject is sharp at every depth.
Focusing moves the pivot past its best place
Focusing a fifty-millimetre lens to one metre carries its entrance pupil 2.63 millimetres forward of the camera body, and to half a metre 5.56 — which is more than the whole 5.53 that the pupil walks with field angle, so past a subject at 502 millimetres the focus decides where the pupil is. A panorama head aligned at infinity and used at a metre leaves 7.46 arcminutes along its seam; aligned at four metres it leaves 2.21, better than pivoting at the pupil at all.
The conic a circle becomes
A circle photographed is an ellipse, or a parabola, or a hyperbola, and which one is decided by a single incidence: whether the circle reaches the plane through the eye parallel to the picture. Not the lens, not the tilt, not how far away it is. The discriminant of the image agrees with that one test at every point of a sweep, and at the crossing it is zero to 1e-13.
The pivot that is not the eye
A camera bolted to a tripod turns about the screw under its baseplate, and the light crosses somewhere else. Every ray of the panorama that results passes the pivot by e sin γ — the offset times the sine of how far off its own frame's axis the ray points — so the picture has a radius where a projection would have a point.
A camera on a bend is sharp on a circle
A camera car rounding a 50 m bend at 10 m/s, aimed into the bend, blurs the still world everywhere except at the bend's centre — and under a pixel from 42 m to 63 m along its axis. Off the axis the sharp place comes nearer as the cosine of the bearing, on the circle through the camera and the centre. Above the ground only the vertical line through the centre stays sharp. Aimed along the road, the camera has no sharp distance at all.
The parallax you cannot shoot away
A stitched panorama's parallax has two halves and they do not behave alike. The one across the seam falls as the sine of half a frame spacing, so more frames buy it off; the one up the frame is the sine of half the frame's own height, and no quantity of shooting touches it. They cross at π over β, which has no pivot error in it at all.
A grid on the wall is a scale without a projection
An Egyptian canon rules a wall into squares and counts a figure's height against the ruling — no horizon, no centre, and a length recovered to 1.4e-14% of error where the same reading taken off a pinhole misses by 58%. Applied instead to a pinhole picture, the furthest of six equal figures reads at 19% of its true height.
The camera that is a cylinder
A swing-lens camera turns its lens about its own entrance pupil and sweeps a slit across film bent into a circle concentric with it. Compute where the light lands, unroll the film, undo the pinhole's inversion, and the result is not similar to the cylindrical picture surface — it is the same map, to the arithmetic floor. What it pays instead is detail, and a shear on anything that moves.
Two circles, one picture
A photographed circle leaves its own pose ambiguous, and not a little: two congruent circles in planes 23.6° apart draw the same conic to 1.1e-16 on normalised coefficients, both of them in front of the camera. On top of that the distance is free, so the family is two discrete poses each with one continuous parameter — and a plane one degree from either draws a conic 2.5e-4 away, which is what makes the agreement a measurement.
A rig is right on one surface
Several cameras looking outward have several centres, and no warp registers all of a scene. The residual is a disparity, so the depth the stitch is computed for has an exact optimum — the harmonic midpoint of the depth range, not the middle of it — and the arithmetic middle costs a factor of 2 z_far over the sum, which tends to two.
The polar with a straightedge
Two secants through a point cut a conic at four places; the complete quadrangle they make has two more diagonal points; the line through those is the polar. Not one length, angle or midpoint is used, so the whole construction survives the projection that made the picture — and three unrelated pairs of secants land on the same line to 4.3e-13, while moving the point moves it by fifteen orders of magnitude more.
The ball a drawing does not draw round
An orthographic drawing of a sphere is a circle wherever the sphere is, and its centre is the image of the sphere's centre, exactly. A cavalier oblique drawing of the same sphere is an ellipse of aspect exactly √2 — and the drawing office reaches for a circle template. One formula covers both and the camera as well, and only the camera moves the centre.
The ball at the edge of the frame
A ball photographed near the edge of a wide picture is not drawn as a circle. It is an ellipse, longer along the radius from the centre of the picture than across it, and the centre of that ellipse is not the image of the centre of the ball. Both are properties of the flat sheet the picture is on, and an exact pinhole produces both.
The floor is a choice of coordinates
Four rungs of this field have measured what a curved floor costs a shadow reading, in millimetres. It costs nothing. A shadow mark sits on the ray from the lamp through the occluder's edge, and where along that ray the floor caught it is a fact about the floor alone — so un-casting in rays returns the occluder to three parts in ten thousand of a millionth of a millimetre on a plane, a dish, a ridge and a step alike, while the same shadow read in the plan is wrong by up to 216 millimetres.
The lamp comes out in rays and not in plan
One drawing of three posts and their shadows yields two points, and a curved floor treats them completely differently. The lines through each post's top and its shadow's tip meet at the lamp's image to a ten-thousandth of a pixel at every curvature, because a top and a tip are two points of one real ray. The lines through each foot and the same tips meet 113 pixels from the lamp's foot — and the lamp placed from an exact point and a wrong one lands 1.3 metres away.
What a removed wall costs that a removed roof does not
Fitting a single centre to a building with its near wall deleted lands at 3.0e-15 m — the arithmetic floor — because deleting a wall does not touch the projection, only which surfaces are drawn. Fitting the identical routine to the same building with its roof removed does not return a number at all: handed a bundle of genuinely parallel rays, it refuses outright.
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.
Nothing moves along the direction
A part slid four metres toward the reader along the direction an isometric drawing projects along keeps its drawn place to a ten-thousandth of a pixel, and the same slide seen from a station point moves it forty-four. An exploded drawing is not an approximation that works because the parts do not move far — it is an identity, and it is why cutaways are drawn in parallel systems.
Two distances to infinity
A parallel projection is the limit of a perspective one, and the limit arrives twice. Which faces get painted settles within three object radii, because a face is either round the back or it is not; where each mark lands falls like one over the distance and is still out at thirty-four. Far enough away has two answers an order of magnitude apart.
Shot on one surface, shown on another
Two picture surfaces are two charts of the same pencil of rays, so a reprojection between them is a change of coordinates and loses no geometry at all — bit-exact at all 408 sampled directions. What it costs lies elsewhere — 70 per cent of the source has nowhere to go, and the target wants ×5.49 the marks at its edge.
A lamp behind the camera
A light behind the photographer has no image — the projection refuses it — and the shadows it casts are in front of them, drawn as ordinary shadows. The construction that recovers a lamp from those shadows works anyway, meeting to a ten-thousandth of a pixel at the point the reversed divide puts it, and the taught reading of where the answer lies gets the case exactly backwards.
A projector that is not at the dome's centre
A projector 0.40 of a dome's radius off centre puts its own picture up to 23.6 degrees from where it belongs, and the pre-warp that corrects it is exact for one seat and only one. Two metres from that seat costs 11.5 degrees of the same displacement, wherever the projector itself stands — because the correction never knew where the projector was in the first place.
The hook is the centre, and the eye is not
Dürer's string frame projects from a ring of iron driven into a wall, so its centre of projection has a position anybody can measure with a tape. A hook 120 centimetres behind a frame 56 centimetres wide makes a drawing correct from 34.3 centimetres shown 160 millimetres across, with its principal point 161 px off the middle of the sheet. The gridded veil projects from a head instead, and 30 millimetres of head moves its marks by 13.27 millimetres.
The picture contains what is behind the camera
A pinhole maps a direction, and a line has one direction, so a point behind the eye lands on exactly the same mark as its reflection in front — here to 6.4e-14 pixels. The sign the division throws away is why cheirality is a fact supplied from outside the picture rather than measured in it.
The theorem that is obvious one dimension up
Desargues in the plane needs a proof and in space needs none — two triangles in different planes have their corresponding sides meeting on the line where the planes cross, and the meets land 1.0e-14 metres off it. The plane figure is a shadow of the spatial one, and five different solids cast the same photograph to 2.0e-12 pixels.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Demonstrationpoint at infinityDrawing systemParallaxinstrument limitParallel projectionProjective mapResidualHomographyPicture planeStation pointHorizon