Viewing distance — where it appears
Named by 40 essays across 9 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.
A focal length is not an angle
Fifty millimetres means nothing until a rectangle is named behind it. The same lens is 39.6° across full frame, 26.6° across APS-C and 8.7° across a phone sensor — and the distance the resulting print is correct from depends on the ratio of the two, so two cameras matched on angle agree exactly whatever their formats.
The screen sets the distance
Every viewing distance quoted for a picture on a page is conditional on an assumed figure width. Replace the assumption with an actual chain — focal length, sensor width, display width — and the same 50 mm frame is correct from 9 cm on a phone, 83 cm on a monitor and 16.7 m in a cinema. Nobody is standing at any of them.
Wide angle is not distortion
A wide lens stretches shapes at the edge of the frame by exactly 1/cos θ — 3% at 28° across, 41% at 90°. Every bit of that is what a correct rectilinear projection must do, and every bit of it disappears if the picture is viewed from the point it was made for. Nobody views it from there.
The measuring point, and the step the method leaves out
Laying out equal depths correctly needs a second vanishing point that most treatments never introduce — the one belonging to the diagonals. With it the construction lands on the projected divisions to eighty femtopixels. Without it, depth is placed by judgement and the drawing depicts something nobody chose.
Stepping closer is not zooming
Changing the focal length leaves the ratio between any two things in a picture exactly alone — to twelve decimal places, at every focal length there is. Moving changes it. Hold the subject's drawn size across a step from 3 m to 1.5 m and the background halves, which is the whole of the shot everybody knows and nobody derives.
A wide field on a small screen
A picture rendered at a hundred degrees and shown on a screen that subtends forty-nine is being read from two and a half times its own station distance, so the depicted space is two and a half times too deep. The stretch at the edges everybody complains about is correct; the complaint is really that nobody is sitting where it would be invisible.
The eye taken to infinity
A parallel projection is a photograph from infinitely far away with the lens lengthened to match. That is not an analogy — it is the limit, it can be watched happening, and it explains why a long lens flattens a scene and why an isometric drawing has no viewing distance to state.
The sixty-degree cone of vision
Every book says keep the subject inside a 60° cone. Measured, the marginal stretch the rule is nominally about is exactly zero from the station point — 1.000000000000 to 1, over 720 sampled points. The rule is a statement about the reader, and books do not obey it.
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.
Two pictures on one screen
A stereoscopic display puts a point where two sightlines cross, so the depicted depth is b·D/(b−d) and the disparity that reaches infinity is exactly the separation of the reader's eyes — 63 mm, at any screen distance whatever. The depth budget is set by the width of a head and by nothing about the scene.
Alberti draws a pavement, and chooses where the reader stands
The costruzione legittima of 1435 is exact. Run as a construction — with drawn rays and drawn intersections rather than the formula it turns out to satisfy — it agrees with a pinhole camera to six parts in a hundred trillion of a pixel. And it has one free parameter that the recipe never names, which is the distance from the eye to the panel.
An anamorph at true size, on paper
An anamorph is the shadow of the intended picture, cast from the reader’s own eye. Every claim about a figure on a screen is quoted against an assumed display width, because nobody can know how wide a screen shows it; this one is not, because it ships a sheet in millimetres and states where to put an eye.
The distance point is the viewing distance, drawn
There is exactly one place in the whole classical apparatus where the distance from the eye to the picture appears as a length on the page, and it is the offset from the centric point to the distance point. Everything this site exists to compute was drawn in the fifteenth century, on the horizon, and nobody said what it was.
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.
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.
Both vanishing points on the paper
Putting the two vanishing points on the sheet is presented as a composition rule. It is a statement about the reader: with the two points one page-width apart the picture is a 90° view, correct from 80 mm, and a reader holding it at arm's length is shown a room five times as deep as the one drawn. The layout that is honest at arm's length puts both points four and a half pages off the sheet.
Brunelleschi drilled a hole in his panel
The first perspective demonstration in the European record came with its viewing point enforced — a hole through the back of the panel, a mirror held out in front, and one place to stand. That distance is computable from the panel's size and the angle the Baptistery subtends, and the answer lands squarely on the arrangement the account describes.
Standing in the wrong place
A picture read from twice the distance it is correct from depicts a scene twice as deep — and not one mark on the paper moves. The error is invisible in the picture, which is why it survives everywhere.
The screen is a picture surface too
A curved television is one of the six named picture surfaces sitting in a living room, and from its own axis it delivers azimuth in proportion to the picture, exactly. What it is shown is a rectilinear picture from a sofa, and the difference is not a matter of degree — a flat screen from any seat shows a homography of the intended picture, so it is a correct picture of a transformed scene, and a curved one shows a map that is not a homography from any seat at all.
The sharp band is a decision
One 50 mm lens at f/2.8 focused at three metres has a sharp band half a metre deep or an unbounded one, and nothing about the optics changes between them — only how large a blur disc a reader is prepared to ignore. Every quantity usually quoted about depth of field is that acceptance restated, including the rule that a third of the band lies in front, which is true at one distance and nowhere else.
A floor anamorph is three numbers
An anamorph is described everywhere as a picture stretched until only one viewpoint can read it, which says what it looks like and nothing about what it is. Cast one onto a floor and fit a map to the marks, and the map turns out to be a planar homology — a line of fixed points, one point off it, and a single ratio. Those three numbers are not a description of the eye. They are the eye.
Where the anamorph still works
A picture correct from one point raises an obvious question that nobody answers with a number — how far may the eye move. The answer here is exact rather than approximate: a wrong viewpoint composes the intended picture with a central collineation whose axis is the line the picture stands on, so the error is zero along that line and grows linearly upward, and a step sideways costs precisely as much as the same step upward.
The rule that draws another room
The taught rule for spacing receding boards — each gap a fixed fraction of the last — is not a projection of anything, and it produces a pavement that is a correct perspective to within a fifth of a pixel. Of a room whose horizon is a hundred and seventy pixels from the one the panel drew. The error is not incoherence; it is a disagreement between two halves of one drawing.
Focusing is a zoom
A 50 mm lens focused at half a metre is not a 50 mm camera. It stands 55.56 mm from the sensor, its picture is a pinhole picture at that distance, and it covers 35.9° where the same lens at infinity covers 39.6°. Recover the camera from the picture and it reports 55.56 mm. Read the picture with the engraved 50 mm instead and a right angle comes back as 96.0°.
A set cut for one eye
Build a colonnade four metres deep and cut every column so that its picture is the picture of one eighteen metres deep. The taper is forced rather than chosen — height and width both scale as the real depth over the intended one — and the match from the design eye is exact to sixteen decimal places. What gives it away is the second eye, and not by the ratio anybody would predict.
The evenness a curve buys
A curved screen is sold on evenness, and evenness turns out to be three quantities that disagree. On pixel pitch the curve wins from every seat; on the angle the glass is turned through it wins until three and a half metres along the sofa; on the plain distance from eye to glass — the reading the argument is usually made in — it gives up before half a metre.
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.
Drawing for the curve removes the curve, not the nearness
A stereo pair drawn for a flat screen and shown on a curved one sends a level head 31.8 arcminutes of vertical disparity before anyone tilts anything. Draw the pair for the curve and that vanishes exactly. What remains when the head rolls is the roll's own disparity, and on the curve it is 8.6 per cent worse than on a flat screen — not because of the curve's shape but because the arc brings its edges nearer the eyes, and a fixed separation seen from nearer is a larger angle.
Drawn for the cylinder, shown on the cylinder
Four essays in this collection have named the arrangement where a picture's surface and a screen's surface are the same surface, and none has run it. It is exact — a tenth of a millionth of an arcminute — and the exactness is not the finding. Three separate things have to be true at once, and a curved television's own maker prints a sitting distance where the first of them is out by five degrees.
Three procedures, one panel
Alberti's lateral section, the distance-point construction and a pinhole camera put every transversal at the same pixel — and every reading of the finished drawing therefore returns the same number for all three. The methods are distinguishable on the desk and indistinguishable on the panel, which is the fact any attribution has to start from.
The slip that leaves no trace
A distance point put twenty-four pixels wrong moves the pavement by two and a half and leaves the reader's projective test reading exactly four thirds. The same slip on Alberti's section moves the drawing by the same amount and is caught, so the difference is not the size of the error — it is that one of them lands back on the set of correct drawings.
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 eye is a picture surface too
A retinal sphere behind an off-centre nodal point takes every measurement this collection puts to a lens or a screen, and answers all of them. It is the equal-area fisheye to within 110 micrometres of retina rather than the equidistant one everybody draws it as, and a flat picture at its own correct distance leaves the identical arc on it, to 1.4e-14 degrees.
Two rules for one pavement
Vignola set out two rules for laying a tiled floor and asserted that they agree. Executed from the same ground line and the same free parameter they agree to 2e-13 px; executed from the numbers their own wordings invite they part by 24 px. The quantity that separates them is the distance the reader has to stand at, and neither rule names it.
The hole a rig cannot fill
A two-lens spherical rig covers every direction between its two lenses and still cannot see 0.470 per cent of the sphere directly beneath it, reaching 12.8 degrees from straight down — its own tripod, standing exactly where neither lens can look. No arrangement of lenses removes it, because it is not a gap in coverage; it is the rig occluding itself.
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 centre of the picture is not the centre of the paper
A crop translates the image rectangle, so the picture's optical centre leaves the middle of the sheet and the focal length does not move — 81.3 pixels apart at a fifth of the picture, with the horizon at 62.5 per cent of the print. A reader who takes the paper's middle for the picture's stands 2.36 cm out of position, which is 4.9 degrees of the wrong direction.
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 rule is exact for a floor that lengthens
The constant-ratio rule for spacing receding boards is an exact perspective — to the last digit, on the panel's own horizon — of a floor whose boards grow by the inverse of the ratio, 0.74 braccia deep at the front and 1.31 at the back on an eight-braccio pavement. The orthogonals agree with that floor. What says the tiles were meant to be square is a diagonal, which bends 8.1 pixels off straight where the reader's fitting test finds a sixth of one.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Station pointFocal lengthDemonstrationfield of viewPicture planeTransversalDistance pointHorizonVanishing pointAnamorphosisViewing positioncentre of projection