Conditioning — where it appears
Named by 71 essays across 16 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Fitting a lens from straightness alone
No calibration target, no known scene, no camera. Only the knowledge that some edges in the picture were straight — and the coefficient comes back to fifteen digits. Then it comes back with a companion, and the two are correlated at −0.997.
Eight points and the basis they are read in
The linear system that recovers a fundamental matrix is written in whatever coordinates the marks were read in, and pixel coordinates are a bad choice. Centring and scaling them first is worth nothing at a quarter-pixel reading and a factor of thirty at four.
The precision a depth buffer has left
Depth is stored as an affine function of one over the distance, so half of a buffer's codes are spent before the harmonic mean of the near and far planes — twenty centimetres out of a kilometre. The resolution goes as the square of the distance, and the fix that works is not more bits.
A turn of the head is not a step sideways
The textbook says a short baseline makes reconstruction ill-conditioned. Measured, the algebra does not notice — a two-millimetre baseline recovers the courtyard to nine digits from exact marks. What fails is the ratio of baseline to reading error, and it fails without refusing.
The third point put where it looks right
Three-point perspective is taught as two vanishing points plus a third placed by judgement. The third is not free: two points and the centre of the picture fix it exactly. It survives being placed by eye because in the layout a book draws it belongs thousands of pixels off the paper, where 400 px of error costs less than a degree — and in a photograph taken looking up at a tower the same 400 px costs ten.
How wrong a measurement from one picture can be
The formula divides by a difference of two nearly equal numbers when the object is tall, which looked like the instability and is not. Measured, a taller object is recovered better and a more distant one worse — half a per cent per pixel at six metres and eleven per cent at a hundred and twenty. The argument that was wrong is as much the finding as the curve that replaced it.
Another picture of the same sweep
Going from three views to seven across the same sixty degrees leaves the reconstruction exactly where it started, and at one point makes it worse. What a reconstruction is short of is angular spread, not photographs.
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 mirror ball does not know its size
The outline of a mirror ball in a photograph gives the ratio of its radius to its distance and stops there — a ball three and a half times bigger, three and a half times further away, draws an outline identical to the last bit. What breaks the tie is a point of the room, and only a near one: the sensitivity falls as one over the room's distance, so a mirror ball photographed against a landscape has no recoverable size at all.
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.
Far enough away, a pair is one eye
Hold the baseline and walk the scene away, and the parallax a single homography cannot explain falls as the distance to the power −0.968 — one over the distance, which says the ratio of baseline to depth is the whole of it. The recovered translation direction follows it down, from 3.3° at four metres to 74.5° at two hundred and fifty-six.
A tile is an off-centre frustum
Rendering a picture in tiles is exact, and the way to do it is one line of arithmetic: a tile's sides are the whole frustum's sides read at the tile's own pixel bounds. Aiming the camera at each tile instead is defensible at every step and is a different picture, out by about a tenth of a tile whatever the tile size.
The curvature a shadow reports
A flat floor makes a shadow a homology, so four marks predict the rest exactly and a curved floor mispredicts them by millimetres. Turn that round and the mispredict is a measurement of the floor. It recovers a dished floor's own curvature to a per cent — and returns 0.482 for a floor made of two planes, whose curvature is zero everywhere, with a residual of ten microns.
The caustic is the mirror's own ruler
Four of the five instruments in this row return a ratio and refuse a size. The bright curve a mirror throws is the exception, and the reason is that it is a length lying on the table rather than an angle in a picture. Its tip is the paraxial focus, so a ruler laid from the mirror's vertex to it returns the radius of curvature — 1.5996 m against 1.6, and exactly right on a paraboloid, where there is no aberration to bias the envelope.
A pane gives a product before it gives two numbers
A flat pane of glass displaces every point it is seen through, and the displacement at small angles is the thickness times one minus the reciprocal of the index. So the two numbers arrive multiplied together. Four panes from 6.5 to 13.2 millimetres thick, with indices from 1.35 to 2.1, agree to under two microns over an eight-degree fan and separate by more than a millimetre over sixty — and a fit over the narrow fan returns whichever pair it started near.
How flat is flat enough
With exact marks the transition has no width at all — 84° of pose error at exactly coplanar and 0.000° at eight parts in ten thousand of relief. Put three tenths of a pixel of reading error in and the same sweep becomes a slope three decades wide, crossing into usefulness when the out-of-plane parallax reaches about ten times the marking error.
A fitted radius is wrong before it is uncertain
A sphere and a paraboloid of the same vertex radius agree to second order, so a fit over a small aperture cannot separate them. What it does instead is return a confident radius that is wrong by a stated percentage, with a residual far below any measurement floor — 0.03% of bias behind a residual of three ten-thousandths of a degree. The residual only clears a two-hundredth of a degree at six times the aperture, by which point the bias is thirty-six times larger.
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.
One plane is nearly free
The near and far planes enter a depth buffer's precision through 1/near − 1/far, and one of those reciprocals is enormous. Pushing the far plane out by a factor of a thousand costs a tenth of a per cent; bringing the near plane in by the same factor costs a factor of a thousand — and an infinite far plane is the limit of the first rather than a separate case.
Two pictures of a ball
Two outlines give two tangent cones, and where their axes cross is the ball's centre — with the radius following from either half-angle. There is no correspondence problem, because a ball's outline in one picture and its outline in another are guaranteed to be the same ball; and there is a degeneracy, which is the two eyes and the ball in a line, and the solver refuses it rather than returning something plausible.
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.
An ambiguity is not an uncertainty
Eight marks to forty cuts a solid scene's pose error from 19.8° to 0.7° and leaves a flat one at 48°. The two failures look identical from inside — a confident answer, a residual at the floor — and they respond to opposite remedies, so telling them apart is worth more than either measurement.
Two matches are enough
A general fundamental matrix has seven free numbers and needs eight correspondences. A mirror pair's has two, and two correspondences fix it — with a straightedge, on a print, by drawing the line from each mark to its reflection and marking where the two cross. Given the same sixteen marks read to four tenths of a pixel, the constrained fit lands 4.8 times closer to the truth than the eight-point algorithm.
The lines that calibrate a lens
One straight edge through the centre of a picture says nothing about a lens's distortion, and one 180 px from the centre determines k₁ to 9.0 × 10⁻⁴ — the precision rises in proportion to the offset. But distance from the centre is not enough. Crowd three edges on one side and, the moment the distortion centre is also unknown, the coefficient is ten times worse, because a bend on one side looks like a moved centre; put one edge across the centre and it barely changes.
Square to the camera is the worst mirror
A mirror pair's baseline runs along the mirror's normal, so a mirror facing the camera puts the second eye directly behind the first — the forward-motion arrangement, with the epipole in the middle of the frame and the rays to a mark crossing at 23°. Turning it forty-four degrees opens that to 65° and cuts the worst depth error threefold, and the number to watch is not the angle but where the reflected lens sits on the print.
An area, out of one photograph
A patch of ground comes back at 5.205 m² from one photograph, to 1.8 × 10⁻¹⁴, through a homography built from four marks and their four known positions. What is worth knowing is how it degrades — the patch's extent across the picture is read with an error growing as the depth, its extent into the picture with an error growing as the depth squared, and at twenty-eight metres the two are sixteen times apart — which is the depth divided by the camera's height.
Carrying a height across the room
A known height at one place on the floor, and the same height wanted at another: two lines settle it, and they settle it exactly, at every camera and every pair of positions. What the recipes never mention is that one of those two lines has to be drawn to a point that is usually not on the paper — 3,300 canvas widths away in the case drawn here — and that the repair is not to extend it further.
A third ray is worth what its picture is worth
Three eyes on one point, two at seven metres and one walked back to seventy. The point nearest all three rays in metres is 132 millimetres from the truth and the point of least reprojection error is 34 — the same 34 the near pair gives alone — and the first is pulled 12 millimetres along the line to the distant eye. And arrangement beats count outright — two rays spread over fifty-five degrees beat eight rays inside four, by a factor of 4.4.
The spread a point gets
A track of sixty degrees gives no point of the scene sixty degrees. The nearest receive 89 and the furthest 41, a factor of 2.2, and their errors run from 1.5 to 8.4 millimetres — following the angle at the point as its −1.68 power, with 94 per cent of the variation explained. The arc a track covers is one number for forty-four different situations and predicts none of them.
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 picture with nothing straight in it
Every construction on this site is handed the horizon, and a photograph of a crowd, a hillside or a curved façade has no straight edge to give it. What such a picture does have is repetition — and three things of one height put the horizon exactly where the camera has it, from the picture alone. Two things do not, and three standing abreast do not either, and both refusals are the reader's ordinary situation.
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.
The response is at the ends and the information is not
A radial map bows a straight edge by an amount that grows as the square of the distance along it, so 93 per cent of an edge's response to the coefficient lies in its outer quarters. Spending the marks there is 16 per cent worse than spreading them evenly, because two clusters say nothing a shifted, tilted line could not say. What identifies the coefficient is a curvature, which needs three places — both ends and the middle, which beats an even spread by 11 per cent.
What a flat map leaves alone
A projectivity of the plane is eight numbers in a matrix, and reading them tells a reader nothing. What it does is decided by its fixed points, and there are exactly three cases: three isolated fixed points, or a whole line of them with one point off it, or a whole line of them with the point fallen onto it. The middle case has five numbers instead of eight and every point slides along a line, and it is what most of the maps this site builds turn out to be.
Seven is not a power of two
Halving a receding depth by diagonals is exact, and every book gives it. Halving reaches a half, a quarter, three eighths — and never a third, however many times it is spent, because no power of two is divisible by three. There is a construction that reaches every whole fraction, it costs three lines rather than a stack of quadrangles, and the extra ingredient is not a measurement.
The answer is an ellipse
A mark read with a round error does not come back as a round region on the ground. The ray is grazing, so a pixel across the picture is worth a little and a pixel up it is worth a great deal, and the recovered point's uncertainty is an ellipse pointing at the camera — 5.07 to 1 at eight metres from a camera 1.62 m up, which is the depth over the height. Propagated and sampled agree to 0.5 per cent, and a ray that is not grazing gives a disc.
The wedge recovered with the camera
Admit the glass into the model and the fit finally has something left over. A two-degree wedge is invisible to a reading confined inside eighteen degrees of the axis — the fit calls the whole displacement a rotation of the camera and is right to — and by fifty-five degrees it comes back to 0.07 of a degree. What the picture does not separate is the ordinary glasses — assuming an index of 1.50 for a true 1.52 costs one per cent in the angle and 0.07 pixels of residual.
The dimetric the set square draws
An orthographic direction has two parameters and produces three axis scales, so the achievable triples are a surface rather than a list. The drawing office's dimetric — one axis at 1 in 8, the other at 7 in 8 — has the right three scales exactly and the wrong two angles, and the picture it makes is an oblique projection of a cube rather than an orthographic one.
Which reference to measure from
Given four candidate scale bars in one photograph, the best is not the longest and not the nearest — it is the longest in the picture. A five-point-two metre bar near the horizon is the longest thing in the scene and the worst reference in it; a four metre bar close to the camera is the best. Walk one bar outward and the term it controls falls as one over its length in pixels, with a fitted exponent of −1.08.
No design separates the two coefficients
Separating a squared term from a fourth-power one was supposed to need marks at radii far apart, which is a statement about where edges are placed. It is not: one straight edge already runs from 20 px to 326. Spreading ninety-six marks over three edges or sixteen changes the answer by 23 per cent, spreading the offsets makes it 19 per cent worse, and the correlation stays at −0.98 whatever is done. What a plumb-line calibration determines is one number, to 1.52 thousandths, and which number depends on the model.
The floor a better camera cannot reach
Sweep the marking error from four pixels down to a hundredth and the measurement's error falls thirty-fold and then stops — at 6.0 per cent, which is exactly the six per cent the reference's assumed shape was wrong by. With the closure exact the same sweep keeps falling to 0.06 per cent. The crossing is at half a pixel, and it can be computed before the photograph is taken, which makes it a decision about equipment rather than a discovery about it.
A known target sharpens the fit and does not separate it
Printed circles of stated size were supposed to break the −0.98 correlation between a lens's two radial coefficients, because a circle puts every mark at one radius and no straight edge can. They do not: every design of circles leaves the pair 0.979 to 0.9997 correlated, and for circles of known size the figure is exactly the cosine between r³ and r⁵. What a known target buys is precision — 3.8 times the straight edges' at the same budget — and only if its size in the picture is known to about a thousandth.
Five facts that close the same gap
The gloss that one length has to come from outside the photograph names a single option, and there are at least five — a length on the ground, the camera's own height, a repeated object of unstated size, a standing object of known height, and the focal length with the horizon. All five give an answer on the same picture with the same noise; their spreads run from 0.36 to 3.60 per cent, a factor of ten, and which one is available depends on the photograph rather than on the arithmetic.
A wedge moves the centre, not the lens
A wedge of glass in front of a lens deflects every ray by a little more the further off the axis it goes, which looks like the shape a radial distortion coefficient describes. Fitted together, the two are nearly independent — correlated at 0.16 at most — and a calibration that knows nothing of the glass does not invent a lens: it reports a coefficient of about 0.002, moves its principal point by 4.5 to 14 pixels, and leaves a swirling residual that no radial model takes. The blame goes to the camera's centre, and the residual says so from twenty-two degrees off the axis.
A shadow across a second object
A straight edge held in front of a lamp defines one plane, and the shadow's boundary is wherever that plane meets something. That turns a picture of a shadow into a measurement: a camera ray and a known plane meet in one point, and the object the shadow is falling on comes back out.
A plane's coefficient reaches as far as its parallax
After a known plane's map, every raised point's displacement is its height over its depth, read as a coefficient on the epipole — exactly, for any point either picture sees. The worry was that the number would be local, good only near the floor whose marks fixed the map. Read to a pixel, it is not a distance on the floor that runs out. It is a length in the picture: the point's error is about 260 per cent over its parallax in pixels, wherever the point stands.
A frame's shear knows travel only over depth
Read a frame row by row while the camera turns and travels, and every vertical post leans — the near ones more. The lean is the turn plus the travel over the post's depth, and that sum is all the frame holds: twice the travel past posts twice as far draws the same frame to eighteen decimal places. Two posts cannot separate turn from travel. A facade can, because a turn leans the edges of the frame more than its middle, but the two signals are 99.8 per cent alike, and reading them apart takes a pixel on every row.
A tilted target pays for its tilt in perspective
A calibration target of printed circles held square to the lens fixes a lens's first radial coefficient to 4.77 thousandths from ninety-six marks. Tilt it sixty degrees, fit the tilt along with everything else, and the same ninety-six marks fix it to 1.70 — nearly three times better. Squash the circles by the same angle without perspective and nothing is gained. What pays is the near half of each circle being drawn larger than the far half, which spreads a circle's marks across a band of distances from the lens's centre.
Split the track and the needles turn
A point triangulated from a track of cameras is not known equally well in every direction: its error is a needle, long along the direction its lines of sight barely constrain. That direction is not the mean line of sight but the lines of sight weighted by how near each camera is — and it can be turned. Two groups of cameras more than a right angle apart swing every needle across, and the same six pictures of a facade then measure its depth four times better.
The proportion is the assumption
Read the proportions of a rectangle out of a photograph of it and the answer is a function of where the centre of the picture is assumed to be. Sweeping that assumption across the horizon takes one drawn quadrilateral from one part in fourteen to slightly wider than square, every reconstruction a genuine rectangle, and only a fiftieth of the sweep within five per cent of the truth.
The residual has a shape
A flat-floor map mispredicts a shadow by millimetres on any floor that is not flat, and the number everybody quotes is the worst one. Tune a dish, a ridge and a step until all three mispredict by exactly 25.0 millimetres and the scalar can no longer tell them apart — by construction. The signed residual around the ring still can. The second harmonic of it reads 0.09%, 2.79% and 19.37%, a factor of two hundred across three floors the headline number calls identical.
The quadrilateral no rectangle casts
The relation that reads a camera out of a drawn rectangle has a minus sign in it, and the minus sign is a refusal: two vanishing points on the same side of the assumed centre give the square root of a positive number, and no camera makes that quadrilateral out of a rectangle. Watching the refusal arrive shows what it is worth — one corner has to travel most of the picture's width before it fires.
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.
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.
A floor is read along curves
Whatever a shadow says about the floor it landed on, it says only where the shadow is — and a shadow is a curve while a floor is a surface. Shadow curve length grows exactly linearly in the number of lamps, by a fitted exponent of 0.999, and the fraction of floor within two centimetres of one grows more slowly at 0.94, because the curves begin to overlap. At thirty-two lamps, seventy-one per cent of a nine square metre patch has still never had a shadow on it.
How many lamps a drawing has
The shadow field recovers a lamp by intersecting drawn lines. Two lamps make that a partition rather than an intersection — and two centres fit any bundle better than one, on a one-lamp drawing as readily as on a two-lamp one, so a count is a decision that needs a noise level before it exists. A criterion built on a penalty instead of a noise level returns four.
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.
An error with two terms
Two results from machineries with nothing in common have now found the same shape. A panorama's parallax separates into a term that halves every time the frame count doubles and a term with no frame count in it at all; a silhouette's error into an excess that falls as one over the square of the view count and the area of a concavity that is the same number at four views and at a hundred and twenty-eight. Fitting both terms turns the distinction into a measurement, and pointed at seven of this collection's own laws it reads every one of them the way its own essay does.
The distance at which two lamps part
Two lamps five centimetres apart are one lamp, and the drawing is right to say so. The separation at which they become two is proportional to how carelessly the picture was clicked — 3.6 centimetres at half a pixel, 7.2 at one, 28 at four — with no floor anywhere, so nothing but care stands between a reader and any separation at all.
The ladder of assumptions is a ladder of conditioning
Push the four corners of a board by one pixel and read three quantities through the one recovered map. A cross-ratio does not move at all — it is read in the picture and never went through the map. A ratio of parallel lengths moves by a tenth of a per cent at twenty degrees of obliquity and by 1.6 per cent at seventy-eight. An angle moves by sixteen thousandths of a degree and by nine tenths. The stratification ladder is usually taught as a hierarchy of what is assumed; it is also a hierarchy of what a pixel costs.
The drawing does not run out of lines
Every post supplies a line to every lamp, so a drawing of five posts offers ten lines to two lamps and twenty to four — the unknowns and the constraints grow together and two posts fix any number of lights. What runs out is the partition, whose margin falls from 251 pixels to six as the share of lines assigned correctly falls from all to just over half.
Dividing to a point off the board
A wall turned forty degrees to the view has its vanishing point 0.65 canvas widths past the edge of the paper, and the construction that aims every course at it without ever reaching it is exact to 1e-13 px. Putting the vertex where the sheet ends instead costs 20.9 px, which on this wall is 300 mm of masonry, and nothing in the drawing says so.
The bias out of reach
A single-view height recovered from the cross-ratio has an error with two terms. The spread of an average of m readings falls as one over the root of m, by a fitted exponent of −0.52 over three decades. The bias does not fall at all — and it is eight microns, against a single-shot spread of six millimetres, so the two cross at 535,000 measurements. There is a floor here and no experiment anybody will run can see it.
A floor with a referent
Recover a focal length from two vanishing points and measure more points along each line. Through a pinhole the error falls from 0.34 per cent to 0.05 and the instrument finds no floor at all. Through a lens of k₁ = −0.05 it falls, turns, and rises to 0.70 per cent — because the noise the extra points removed had been partly masking the lens's bend. The floor is 0.72 per cent of the focal length, and doubling the distortion coefficient doubles it to 1.44. It is not noise and not conditioning; it is the model, priced.
The arrangement the count cannot see
Five posts laid out five different ways give the same leverage to a sixth and the same separation limit to a quarter, and the sixth arrangement — posts strung out along their own shadows, built to be exactly degenerate — is no worse than the rest. The degeneracy belongs to the family the count does not use, and its conditioning there is exactly zero.
Five tangents name the same conic
Fitting a conic to five lines is the same six-coefficient nullspace problem as fitting one to five points, with the roles exchanged, and it lands on the same curve to 2.6 × 10⁻¹¹ pixels. What duality does not promise is that the two are equally good evidence — and measured at equal marking precision they are, to within seventeen per cent, because a drawn tangent is made of points.
The lamp's size over its distance, and nothing else
One straight-edge shadow gives a lamp's angular size and nothing about its actual size or distance — scale a 36 cm lamp and its 3.0 m distance together and the band it casts differs by 0.0e+0. A second card at a different height breaks the tie, recovering 36.00 cm at 3.000 m from bands of 18.0 cm and 144.0 cm alone, at a condition number of 37.1.
The lamp a low shadow cannot locate
Five posts, their shadows, and the line from each foot through its own shadow's tip meet at the lamp standing over them — at 52 degrees up that meet moves 0.11 m for half a pixel of marking error; at 11.5 degrees, 0.64 m. The two eigenvalues of the same pencil of lines part by a factor of 8849084 across the sweep, and half a pixel becomes more than a metre of lamp below 14.4 degrees.
A shadow edge read as a profile
A lamp, a stick and a camera recover a stepped object's profile to 4.9e-15 m rms when the marks are exact, and to 10.4 mm once they are read to two tenths of a pixel — the same linear law a fitted exponent of 1.001 confirms. What actually sets that number is the angle between the sweeping light plane and the camera's own ray — the amplification is least, 17.0 times a pixel, broadside at 6°, and grows without bound toward -36.1°, where the plane contains the camera's own eye and the recovery keeps none of its marks at all.
The lamp and the floor cannot both be recovered
Every member of a one-parameter family of lamp-and-floor pairs draws the identical photograph to a fraction of a thousandth of a pixel — one member swings the lamp 90 cm and tilts the floor 4.3° and the picture does not move at all. A tape measure or a post of known height each pin the true member uniquely, and so does a wall known in advance to be square to the floor, whose angle to the recovered floor peaks at exactly 90° at μ = 1.000 and nowhere else; a receiver merely known to be parallel drifts thirteen times more weakly.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Residualerror propagationinstrument limitleast squaresDemonstrationReconstructionVanishing pointCamera calibrationHomographyIdentifiabilityHorizonModel error