Every essay — page 16
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
The rectangle behind the lens
A focal length is not an angle until a piece of silicon of a stated width is named. And that silicon is a grid of samples that need not be square, read over an interval rather than at an instant, mostly a row at a time — so a frame is neither one place nor one moment, and the site's own round trip cannot tell.
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 pupil sees around an edge
Two backgrounds identical everywhere a pinhole can see, differing only in the strip an occluder hides from it, produce identical pinhole pictures and pupil pictures 42 per cent apart. So no function of the sharp image — no kernel, no depth-dependent kernel, nothing — produces the picture a real lens makes, and the reach behind the edge is R(Z₂/Z₁ − 1), which is 120 mm here.
The corner sees an ellipse
A circular pupil viewed from off the axis is foreshortened by the cosine, so the blur patch a corner receives is an ellipse of axis ratio 0.920 at the edge of a full-frame picture with a 50 mm lens — and the light through it falls as the fourth power of the same cosine, 0.480 stops. Both are geometry, both happen to a perfect lens, and no design removes either.
The disc and the streak
A frame integrates over the pupil and over the exposure at once. Hold the point's depth and the patch is exactly the streak of its centres with one disc slid along it, to 1.8 × 10⁻⁵ of its own width. Let it recede over the same exposure and the disc's radius falls by 3.7 along the streak, and the patch departs from any single kernel by 16 pixels.
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 turning frame can be straightened; a travelling one cannot
Read a frame row by row while the camera turns at a radian a second and every point is 21 px from where a global shutter would put it, at every depth alike. Turn each row's rays back and every point returns to six trillionths of a pixel, with no depth known. Travel at 3 m/s instead, and the best correction that needs no depth is exact at one distance and 21 px wrong at 2 m.
Turning and travelling blur different worlds
A subject 8 m away crosses the frame at 4 m/s, and the camera keeps it sharp over a thirtieth of a second. Turn to follow it and every still thing blurs by the same 13.5 px, whatever its depth. Travel beside it and the still world blurs as one over its depth — 49 px at 2 m, 1.5 px at 64 m — while everything moving with the subject is sharp at every depth.
A dolly zoom is a step and a zoom, and they meet at one depth
Step 1.5 m toward a subject 5 m away while shortening the lens to hold its size. Every mark moves along the line from the centre of the picture, to a ten-trillionth of a degree — outward if nearer than the subject, inward toward a limit if further, and not at all on the subject's own plane. The step and the zoom each move everything one way; the dolly zoom is where they cancel.
A close picture carries its own distance
A 50 mm lens focused at one metre stands 2.632 mm beyond its focal length, and a picture records where the lens stood. Recover that from two vanishing points, put in the engraved focal length, and the focus distance comes back — to 0.7 per cent at 1 m, 3.7 at 5 m, and as an interval 28 per cent wide at 30 m. A single picture has given a scale. What it has given is where the lens was focused, and the subject can be anywhere in a sharp band two to fifteen times wider.
The second eye
One picture fixes a ray; two fix a point. Everything a pair of pictures determines about the eyes that made them — the image of one eye in the other's picture, the line a match must lie on, and the camera pose recovered from correspondences alone — with the recovery never shown a camera.
The image of the other eye
Two photographs of one courtyard, and in each of them a point that is the other camera. It is computed from forty-four matched marks and nothing else, and it lands on the projection of the other eye to about a billionth of a pixel.
A point is a line over there
Knowing where a mark sits in one photograph does not say where it sits in the other. It says which line it is on, which removes one of the two unknowns and leaves one — and the five lines drawn here meet at a point to within a thirtieth of a billionth of a pixel.
Eight points and the basis they are read in
The linear system that recovers a fundamental matrix is written in whatever coordinates the marks were read in, and pixel coordinates are a bad choice. Centring and scaling them first is worth nothing at a quarter-pixel reading and a factor of thirty at four.
Four cameras fit, and one of them can see
The essential matrix does not determine a camera pair. It determines four, all of which reproject every correspondence exactly, and the thing that picks one is not more algebra — it is the assumption that the photographer could see what was photographed.
Two views give shape and no size
Every pairwise distance ratio in a courtyard recovered from two photographs matches the real one to fourteen digits. The courtyard's actual size is not merely uncertain — it is absent, and a reconstruction three and a half times larger fits the same two pictures exactly as well.
A flat scene fixes no second eye
Eight marks on one plane leave the eight-point design matrix two ranks short, so a two-parameter family of fundamental matrices satisfies every mark exactly — three of its members are 1.41 apart after normalisation and all three fit to 1.6 × 10⁻⁶ pixels. The same photographs determine the plane's own map from four marks, to 5.9 × 10⁻¹³ pixels.
How flat is flat enough
With exact marks the transition has no width at all — 84° of pose error at exactly coplanar and 0.000° at eight parts in ten thousand of relief. Put three tenths of a pixel of reading error in and the same sweep becomes a slope three decades wide, crossing into usefulness when the out-of-plane parallax reaches about ten times the marking error.
Seven marks, three answers
Seven correspondences leave a two-dimensional nullspace, and the requirement that a fundamental matrix be singular is a cubic in the mix — one or three real roots. Here it has three, and all three satisfy every one of the seven marks to 8.9 × 10⁻⁹ pixels. The eighth mark, withheld, separates them by more than an order of magnitude.
The surface two pictures cannot separate
There is a quadric through both camera centres on which two genuinely different motions draw identical pictures. Built explicitly, forty-two marks satisfy both epipolar geometries to 2 × 10⁻¹³ pixels, and the two scenes they reconstruct place the same mark at 15.6 metres and 35.1. The design matrix's nullspace has two dimensions rather than one, which is the seven-point situation arrived at from the other side.
An ambiguity is not an uncertainty
Eight marks to forty cuts a solid scene's pose error from 19.8° to 0.7° and leaves a flat one at 48°. The two failures look identical from inside — a confident answer, a residual at the floor — and they respond to opposite remedies, so telling them apart is worth more than either measurement.
Two marks off a known plane find the other eye
Map a courtyard's ground from one picture into the other, and every raised mark lands somewhere the map did not send it — displaced along a line through the image of the other camera, to a fifth of a billionth of a pixel. Two such marks put that image where it is, and with it the whole epipolar geometry.
An epipole in the picture leaves a blind disc
Step a camera half a metre straight forward and the image of the other eye sits in the middle of both pictures. Around it lies a disc where one pixel of reading costs a tenth of the depth or more — 20 px across a surface 2 m off, 247 px at 16 m — and at its centre no depth is recovered at any range.
The two pencils keep one number
Four lines through the image of the other eye in one picture, and the four epipolar lines they become in the other. The angles between them change by up to 11.4°; their cross-ratio is 3.012836 on both sides, to eight parts in a trillion. Three pairs of lines fix the map between the pencils, and the fourth is predicted to a third of a billionth of a pixel.
Rectification is a family, not an operation
Turn both pictures of a pair so their epipolar lines become shared rows. A turn about the line between the eyes and a focal length are left free, and every choice puts all 44 matches on common rows to a tenth of a trillionth of a pixel and every point back where it was. What the choices disagree about is the pixels — one stretches its pictures unevenly by 1.77, another by 4.86.
Seeing the scene fences in the plane at infinity
A reconstruction made without the calibration does not know which of its planes is infinitely far away. Requiring every point to lie in front of both cameras rules out every candidate that would tear the courtyard, and what is left is a convex region — 32 per cent of a generous slice — that always holds the true plane and never shrinks to it.