Conic — where it appears
Named by 38 essays across 10 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
What a projection destroys
A projection loses length, angle, area and the ratio in which a point divides a segment. Exactly one quantity comes through untouched, and almost everything that can be checked about a picture is checked with it — including, as it turns out, some things it cannot check at all.
The cylinder, and the price of going all the way round
A cylindrical picture can hold three hundred and sixty degrees, keeps every vertical vertical, and bows every horizontal. Its cost is a stretch of sec φ in elevation, which is also the equirectangular surface's cost exactly — two surfaces that are always described as different and are identical in the one respect anybody notices.
A straight line in a scroll is a hyperbola
Under a pushbroom the image of a straight world line is a Möbius function of the paper coordinate, which is a rectangular hyperbola. It is straight exactly when the line holds its depth — so a curve in a handscroll is a depth signal rather than a stylistic one, and the sag is computable in pixels.
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.
The circle whose centre moves
The image of a circle is an ellipse, and the image of the circle's centre is not the centre of that ellipse. The gap is 3 or 4% of the ellipse's width in an ordinary view — large enough to see, small enough to be dismissed as a slip by anyone not expecting it, and the reason drawn wheels look wrong.
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.
Which way the drawn circle leans
Two rules are given for the direction a drawn circle's short axis runs in: along the axis of the cylinder, and pointing at the centre of vision. On the optical axis both are exactly right. At the edge of an ordinary frame the first is out by three and a half degrees and the second by seventy-nine. The statement neither of them is comes out of differencing the projection, and it matches the drawn ellipse to a hundredth of a degree.
The depth a pair calls zero
Two eyes verged on a point agree — the same coordinate in both pictures — not on a plane at the fixation distance but on a circle through both eyes and that point. Found by bisection along 121 azimuths and fitted rather than assumed, it is a circle to 0.0000 cm; at 26° off centre it lies 23 cm nearer than a flat wall does.
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.
A pond in a scroll is not an ellipse
A pinhole draws a round pond as an exact ellipse whose widest row is 3.58 px off the row of the pond's centre — the drawn-circle error every perspective textbook warns about. A handscroll draws the same pond widest exactly on its centre's row, and draws it as a quartic that no conic fits: the best ellipse misses it by 3.08 px. Each keeps what the other loses, and off to one side the pinhole's pond leans 9.67 px while the scroll's does not lean at all.
The ellipse the drawing office draws
Every isometric ellipse template is cut to a construction of four circular arcs, and every account of it calls the result an ellipse. It is not one and cannot be: a circular arc has constant curvature and a conic's varies, so the two can agree at four points and nowhere between. The four-centre curve reaches 2√2/3 of the true semi-major axis — 5.72% short — and its minor axis is 3.53% too long.
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.
The centre, got back out of the picture
The image of a circle's centre is not the centre of the image ellipse — this site measured the gap four phases ago and left the obvious question unanswered. It has an exact answer, it needs a straightedge and the horizon, and it is one sentence: the image of the centre is the pole of the vanishing line with respect to the image conic.
Six tangents and the point nobody drew
Brianchon's theorem is a test a reader can run on a finished drawing with nothing but a straightedge — six tangents, three diagonals, and a question about whether they meet. Pointed at the drawing office's four-centre ellipse it rejects the curve by 1.7 per cent of the figure's own width, 546 times the instrument's own floor, with no true ellipse to compare against.
An angle is a cross-ratio
A projection destroys angle, which every account of perspective says and a direct measurement confirms. It destroys it only in the sense that the picture no longer carries it for free — because an angle is a cross-ratio taken against two particular points, and once those two points are located in a photograph the world's angles can be read off it directly, with no rectification, no camera, and nothing measured but which lines pass through which points.
The two points a picture hides
The stratification rung says a photograph of a plane is projective, becomes affine when the vanishing line is known, and becomes metric with one more fact. The one more fact has a size and a shape: it is two points, complex conjugates on the vanishing line, and a rectification built from those two and nothing else returns every world angle to a tenth of a picodegree and every ratio of lengths to five parts in a quadrillion — and refuses to name a length.
The minor axis is not the axle
A wheel's perspective ellipse is supposed to have its short axis along the axle, and it does — on the principal ray, to 5e-14 degrees, and nowhere else. Off it the two part by 5.95 degrees on an ordinary frame while the drawn curves stay 0.98 px apart. A sphere obeys a rule of exactly the same shape and obeys it everywhere, which is why nobody caught the difference.
One conic calibrates the camera
A focal length is usually recovered from two perpendicular vanishing points by an orthocentre construction with a square root in it. There is a second derivation with no construction and no square root — two vanishing points of perpendicular directions must be conjugate with respect to one conic in the picture — and the two agree to the last bit. They are not two methods. The conic is what a calibrated camera is.
A cylinder has two different ends
The two end circles of a cylinder image as two different ellipses — 14.4° apart in the direction of their major axes and 0.918 against 0.839 in aspect — and the outline's straight sides touch neither of them where its major axis ends, missing by 28° round the ellipse and 35 pixels. Walking the cylinder away removes the difference between the ends and does not remove the offset of the touch, which settles at 7.3° off the principal ray and at nothing on it.
The circle in the square wants a number
Every manual draws a circle in perspective by inscribing it in a square, crossing the diagonals, and marking four more points about seven tenths of the way out. Seven tenths is right — along the diagonal of the real square. Along the drawn one it is 54 mm off a circle two and a half metres across, and the drawn diagonal is the only diagonal on the paper.
A wire with a corner in its shadow
A bent wire has no corner anywhere on it, and its shadow has one. The lamps that do it are not a coincidence — they are a surface in the room, two-dimensional, made of the wire's own tangent lines, and a lamp being carried across the room passes through it.
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 edge of a shadow is drawn on the object
The outline of a cast shadow is the image of a curve, and the curve is on the caster. It is not painted there: it slides when the lamp moves, it is not the outline the camera sees, and the two coincide only in the arrangement where no shadow is visible at all.
Two lines at infinity
A picture of a plane has two of them and they are not the same line. One is the horizon, where the plane's own infinity went; the other is where the picture's coordinates run out. The words ellipse and hyperbola are about the second, and every scrap of metric information is on the first — so a circle whose photograph is a hyperbola calibrates exactly as well as one whose photograph is an oval, to 7e-14 of a degree.
A circle off the coordinate planes
An ellipse template is cut at one ratio, and the ratio is the cosine of one angle: between a coordinate plane's normal and the direction of projection. A face tilted out of that plane needs a different ratio and — the half that gets drawn wrong even when the ratio is close — a major axis pointing somewhere else, perpendicular to the drawn normal rather than to any edge.
Five marks and the sixth
Five points determine a conic exactly — five coefficients up to scale, five equations, nothing left over — so a fit through five marks on a photograph is not a fit at all. The sixth mark, withheld, lands on the curve to 1.9e-13 px. And the moment a sixth mark is used, the arithmetic changes character completely: it becomes a least-squares problem, and the residual starts telling you something the five could never say.
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.
The ball stands at a focus
A ball on a floor casts an ellipse, and the point where the ball touches the floor is a focus of it — not near a focus, on one, to two parts in ten thousand million million. That is Dandelin's theorem arriving somewhere nobody puts it, and it is the only thing about the lamp that the shadow gives away.
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.
Every quadric has one outline
The curve where a solid turns away from the eye is the section of the solid by one plane — the eye's polar plane — and the outline is three matrix products with no sampling in them. It works for a ball, a dish and a hyperboloid, and it fails for a cone, whose dual outline collapses to a single point and forgets which two lines pass through it.
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.
Four points on a conic look the same from anywhere on it
Four marks on a photographed circle subtend the same cross-ratio at every point of the curve — 1.627695, unmoved over twenty-two positions of the fifth point, to 1.1e-13 degrees of projective spread. A fifth point 6.1 pixels off the conic reads anything from 1.00 to 2.52, so the invariant belongs to the curve rather than to the four marks.
Three conics are one conic and a choice of horizon
Ellipse, parabola and hyperbola are one curve and three answers to which line is infinitely far away. Pitching one camera over one 6 metre circle walks through all three, and the crossing sits at 30.465545° by two instruments with different units — but the line that decides is not the horizon, and the popular name for the choice names the wrong one of the two lines a picture of a plane has.
Pascal's line, and the theorem underneath Pappus
Six points of a conic, three meets of opposite sides, collinear to 1.3e-12 px. Flatten the conic towards a pair of lines and the residual never leaves the axis — 5.7e-14 px at the end, where the theorem has become Pappus's — so Pappus is the degenerate case of Pascal reached continuously rather than a separate theorem that resembles it.
The triangle a camera cannot move
Three mutually perpendicular directions give three vanishing points, and that triangle is self-polar with respect to the image of the absolute conic — to 3.1e-13 px, with no length and no angle anywhere in the statement. Turn one direction two degrees out of square and the polars miss their sides by 65.8 px. The statistic this collection has been printing as evidence for the same claim, meanwhile, is an identity that cannot fail.
A curved surface made of straight lines
A hyperboloid of one sheet carries two families of exactly straight lines, so a photograph of a cooling tower is full of straight lines bounding nothing flat — 28 of them here, drawn to 2.3e-13 px of straightness against a parallel of the same surface that bows 120 pixels. Both families' directions satisfy one asymptotic equation, so their vanishing points lie on one conic in the picture and not on two, to 1.6e-12 px with no fitting anywhere.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
DemonstrationForeshorteningcentre of projectionHorizonpoint at infinityline at infinityProjective mapProjective invariantVanishing pointContour generatorEllipseImaged circle