Every essay — page 14
What survives Constructing a view Where to stand Surfaces that are not flat The other systems Light and mirrors Mirrors that are not cameras Measuring from one picture Through water and glass The real instrument The second eye What a pair is for Many pictures at once The eye that moves Systems that kept the measure What each system gave up What a machine computes The rectangle behind the lens The second projection Drawn confidently
Through water and glass
A refracted picture is not a projection at all — its rays, continued into the water, miss each other by millimetres rather than meeting at a point. Everything the other fields rest on is measured here against the case where it fails, from the cross-ratio to Snell's window to a dome port that turns out to be an exact pinhole.
A picture through water has no viewpoint
Continue the rays of a refracted picture into the water and fit them to a common point. They miss it by ten millimetres. The same fit with the water taken away misses by zero, which is what makes ten millimetres a measurement rather than a number.
What survives a pane of glass
A slab of glass moves every point of a picture and moves no direction at all. So the camera recovered from a photograph taken through a display case is exactly the camera that took it — out of a picture in which nothing is where it was.
The sky inside a cone
From under water the whole sky — every direction out to the horizon — arrives inside a cone of 48.61°. Outside it the surface is a mirror. That cone is a picture surface, and it has a distortion no surface in the curved field has — an area scale that runs to zero.
The port that is not there
A flat window into water costs a lens a third of its field. A sphere centred on the entrance pupil costs nothing at all — not nearly nothing, exactly nothing — and six millimetres off centre costs 0.635°.
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.
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.
One surface, two images
A water surface reflects what is above it and refracts what is below it in the same photograph, from the same plane. The reflected half has a centre of projection to 1 × 10⁻¹⁴ m and every theorem about central projection applies to it; the refracted half misses its own best-fitting point by 28.6 mm and none of it does. And the landscape manual's rule for drawing a reflection turns out to be the epipole placed at infinity, which is why it costs nothing at zero tilt and 11.5 px at twenty-two degrees.
A ball of water has no eye either
A flat interface is not a projection through a centre and misses by ten millimetres. A sphere of water misses by more than that on a ball the size of a plum — 1.3 mm on a fifty-millimetre radius, and the axis crossings spread over 18.6 mm at seven tenths of the aperture. But at two per cent of the radius the same fit returns 24 nanometres, so a ball does have a centre — one at zero aperture and none by the time it is gathering any light.
A point under water has two depths
The apparent depth of a submerged point is not one number even along one line of sight. The rays it sends to an eye pass through two focal lines, and at 60° from the vertical a point 1.50 m down has an image 0.740 m down and another 0.320 m down. Two eyes side by side read the first, a head moving up and down reads the second, and a pair of eyes tilted between them reads neither — their two rays miss each other by as much as 6.39 mm.
A straight stick in water is a kink and a curve
The bent stick is described as one kink at the surface. Traced point by point, the image two level eyes see leaves the surface 14.96° off a stick leaning 30° — the same whichever way it leans — and then keeps turning, by 1.11° when it leans away from the eye and 7.62° when it leans toward it. A photograph from the eye shows the kink and almost none of the curve, 1.63 px over 166 px, and when the stick leans straight toward or away from the eye it shows neither: the picture is one straight line.
A wedge of glass turns the camera behind it
A pane with parallel faces moves every point and no direction, so the camera recovered through a window is the camera that took the picture. Tilt one face 2° and every direction turns, by 1.04° on the axis and 1.67° forty degrees off it. The best rotation of the frame, 1.14°, still leaves 0.94 px, and no homography does much better, so the picture is no longer a projection from the camera's centre. The camera recovered from three vanishing points through the same glass is turned 3.37° — three times as far — because vanishing points lie where the glass bends most.
The stick a stereo pair puts back
Two eyes side by side reconstruct a submerged stick exactly as the sagittal image — kinked 14.96° — and two eyes one above the other exactly as the tangential one, kinked 9.59°. Roll the baseline between them and the two rays to a point miss each other by up to 3.13 millimetres, past the 2.85 a pixel covers at that range, and the reconstruction is a third stick that is neither — 551 millimetres of a one-metre stick, with its tip at 0.405 metres against a true 0.866.
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 second projection
A picture that has been made still has to be shown, and the display is a projection with a correct point of its own. Here the assumed figure width every earlier essay quoted is replaced by an actual chain — sensor, focal length, screen — and the answer is that almost nobody is standing where the picture says to.
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.
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.
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.
The render is distorted on purpose
A headset renders a bent picture so its lens can straighten it, which is a lens's distortion polynomial run backwards, and the one case in which distortion is introduced deliberately. The round trip closes to a thousandth of a millionth of a pixel, and the price is that one rendered pixel becomes 0.493 delivered pixels at the edge of the field and one at the centre.
A projector is a camera run backwards
Turn a projector fifteen degrees from square and it throws a trapezium; keystone correction cannot add light outside it, so it shrinks the picture until it fits and discards a sixth of the panel. And the instrument itself comes back out of the picture it threw — 2880 panel pixels recovered against 2880, by the function the wrong field wrote for hand-drawn cubes.
Turning the cameras inwards
A stereo pair made by rotating two cameras toward a common point puts the same world point at different heights in the two pictures — up to thirty pixels here, on a frame of four hundred. Two eyes level with each other see every point at the same height, so a pair with vertical difference is a pair of pictures of no scene at all.
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 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.
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.
One picture and three people
A curved screen can be pre-warped for one seat, and the search over which seat to choose returns the middle one to a quarter of a per cent — there is nothing to be clever about. What the correction buys the sofa as a whole is six per cent, and the worst seat grows at fourteen pixels for every metre of audience, with no width at which it is zero except one person.
What the two eyes are sent
A reader's eyes are two seats sixty-three millimetres apart, so a curved screen delivers each of them a different map — and the part of the difference no homography absorbs is binocular evidence of the glass. Turned into a depth it comes back as the screen's own sag, 49 millimetres against 47 on a television, by a route that never saw the radius.