Elevation — where it appears
Named by 12 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
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.
What a 360-degree photograph actually is
The format every spherical camera writes preserves nothing — not straightness, not shape, not area — and it is the right choice anyway, for a reason that has nothing to do with looking at it. An equirectangular file is a lookup table of directions, and the picture only exists at the moment something re-projects a piece of it.
Three distances in one landscape
A landscape assembled from a low station for the near ground, a level one for the middle and a high one for the far gives its furthest band 6.9 times the picture one camera would allow it — because the image of a fixed depth interval falls as one over depth squared, and its own station gives that back. What it costs is a jump in the rate at which depth runs, 2.50 at the first join and 2.75 at the second, and three views from one height leave no seam at all.
A landscape that changes its rule halfway up
A reader handed only the marks of a three-station landscape recovers each band's own camera height without being told any of them — 1.60 m, 4.00 m, 11.00 m, to 3.6e-15 m. What that same reader cannot recover across a join is a common ground: the next band's own marks read as a ground point 2.40 m away from the true one at the first seam, 7.00 m at the second.
Three views do not fix the solid
A stepped block on a six-cell grid draws a front, a top and a side view. So does a solid with a third of its material, and so does one with more than the block has — 192 cells against 64, every filled square in all three views identical. The drawing office's triple bounds a part between two solids and does not determine it, and the gap runs to a factor of n.
The view that makes a line a point
Descriptive geometry's first drill is to look at an edge from a direction perpendicular to it, so it draws at true length, and then along it, so it draws as a point. Both are the same identity — the imaged length is the true length times the sine of the angle to the ray — and the sine holds to 1e-12 across the whole sweep of directions.
The stations are also a staircase
A level eye draws a ground point on a row that depends on the eye's height and the ground's only through their difference. So a landscape drawn from three stations at 1.6, 4 and 11 m over flat ground is, to 6 × 10⁻¹⁴ px across ninety-nine samples, the same picture as one eye at 11 m over ground stepped 9.4 m and 7.0 m above the far plain. The station heights a reader recovers are recovered on an assumption the marks neither supply nor test — and what would decide between the two readings is a cliff 103% of a band's own height, which is exactly where the convention lays its mist.
A seam breaks direction, not size
An eight-metre road crossing the first join of a three-station landscape is drawn 215.4 px wide under either band's rule, identically, and a six-metre post 161.5 px tall under either — the eye's height cancels out of any size taken at one depth. What does not cancel is where those sizes sit. The road's edges are turned 23.2° from each other and the post's foot lands 64.6 px out of place, and a painter butting two bands can absorb the offset and can never absorb the turn.
A shadow decides which landscape it is
One sun over a several-station landscape is one sun: every band images the light's direction and its shadows' at the same page point, and each reports the altitude as 22.000000°. A shadow is still dislocated at the join, and the reading that could not be settled by any ground point is settled by one — because a ray crossing the seam has a riser to descend that the flat reading does not give it, and the two tips land 5.94 m and 11.7 px apart.
Where a seam is allowed to go
Putting a join further off cuts the offset it forces from 210 px to 24 and leaves the turn at 23.2° exactly, so emptiness is a painter's only defence. And emptiness is not counted in metres: one twelve-metre object blocks 6.3 per cent of a landscape's depth wherever it stands and between 1.0 and 35.6 per cent of the picture, so how much room a seam has is set by where the landscape is crowded rather than by how much.
A seam that bends trades a turn for a gap
A join laid along a river bank instead of across one depth was supposed to go round what crosses it instead of avoiding it. It can, at a price: the far band can be lifted by one amount only, so a seam that wanders in depth opens a gap between the bands — 3 px buys the first join 1.2 m of wander, and going all the way round a twelve-metre object costs 15.8 px. Across a hundred landscapes, bending opens under 0.4 per cent of the picture that a straight seam did not already have.
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.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Moving viewpointPiecewise mapSeamStation pointDepth compressionFree parameterDrawing conventionreconstruction ambiguityStation-disagreementAzimuthEquirectangularForeshortening