Ground plane — where it appears
Named by 16 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The forty-five degree shadow
Draw the shadow at forty-five degrees and make it as long as the object is tall. In the plan that is exactly a sun halfway up the sky. Applied on the paper it puts four posts under four different suns — altitudes from sixteen to twenty-nine degrees, azimuths thirty-two degrees apart, and shadows between one and three-quarters and three and a half times the height. No drawing angle brings them together.
Measured down from the waterline
Whatever stands so far above the water, draw its reflection the same distance below. Through a vertical picture plane that is not an approximation — it is the reflection, to the arithmetic floor. Tilt the camera twenty-two degrees and it is eleven pixels out. Draw a gull, which touches the water nowhere, and guessing its waterline point wrong by two metres of depth costs fifty.
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.
The same person, twice on one panel
A panel showing one figure at four moments is geometrically the least strange thing in this field — one camera, one floor, and every pair of copies meeting the horizon to 8.5 × 10⁻¹⁴ px. What the picture withholds is the order, and four copies admit twenty-four readings, and a reading convention supplies 4.6 bits from outside the marks. Enlarge one figure by six per cent and the horizon test that passed the panel catches it at 36 px.
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.
Size that means rank
In a great many pictures the drawn height records importance rather than distance. That is a decision rather than a mistake, and it can be caught with a straightedge by carrying one figure's height across the room by the taught construction and see where it lands. A tenth of rank in the picture already misses the drawn head by 21 px, the miss is exactly linear in how much rank is there, and the whole test needs two references and no arithmetic.
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.
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.
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.
Higher on the page, and where that stops being true
A pinhole's image height above the horizon falls monotonically with depth over the whole 2–400 m range sampled here, and 57% of that whole range lands in the ground's last drawn tenth — the accumulation the oldest depth convention is quietly built from. Above eye level the ordering inverts, and at eye level exactly, five different depths draw one height, a spread of 0.0e+0 px.
A railing matched one along stands underground
Match every post of a railing to the next one along and two photographs build a perfect railing at 19.8 metres instead of 9.0 — straight, evenly spaced, every post on both its rays. Nothing near it can say so. What convicts it is what it stands on: its feet are 1.32 metres under the ground, and one ground mark read to a pixel shows every foot a whole period out from sixty metres away. Its length helps only through its ends, and once those leave the frame, counting matches prefers the wrong railing.
Figures on a street that slopes
Equal-height figures have their heads on one line, and the taught rule says the line is the horizon. On a street rising at 8.33 per cent the heads are still collinear to 2.8e-14 pixels and the line is 58.9 pixels above the horizon — the street plane's own vanishing line. The taught rule loses 1.46 m of a 1.62 m figure at the far figure, and runs out of figure altogether at 19.4 m.
Copying square by square
The taught grid workflow sets a pavement's cell corners out exactly and then fills each cell by eye, and the corners are right while the fill is not — 3.30 px on a picture 690 across at eight cells, falling as the square of the cell. On a wall square to the camera the same fill reads 3e-13 px, which is why the method feels reliable.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
HorizonVanishing pointForeshorteningPicture planeHomologyAnamorphosisConditioningDiminutionEye levelIncidencesingle-view metrologyStation point