Surfaces that are not flat
No picture surface keeps everything
A picture has to be cast onto something, and every candidate surface destroys something different. Six of them are measured here on the same three properties, and the corner of the plot where a surface pays nothing is empty — not because nobody has thought of one, but because a theorem says there is none.
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.
Stereographic keeps every angle, and only stereographic
One surface in the family preserves shape exactly — every right angle stays a right angle and both its arms are magnified equally, to the last bit the arithmetic has. It also sends every circle in the world to a circle in the picture, which the site's existing conic fit can be pointed at and asked to confirm without being told what it is looking at.
Every fisheye is a different rule
The word "fisheye" names a shape of lens and not a projection. There are several, they disagree with each other by tens of per cent at the frame edge, and each is the right answer to a different question — one is a protractor, one is a counting instrument, one preserves shape. Which one a lens implements is a fact about that lens, and it is rarely printed on the barrel.
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.
The arcs a curvilinear drawing uses
The taught way to draw a very wide view by hand is to run every straight edge of the world as a circular arc. That recipe has been repeated for sixty years without a surface attached to it, and it turns out to name one exactly — fitting a general conic to the image of a straight line returns a circle to nine decimal places under stereographic projection and returns nothing like a circle under any of the other standard picture surfaces.
One parameter between two surfaces
Wide architectural views are usually made on a projection with a number attached to it — a family running from the flat plane at one end toward the cylinder at the other, with everybody using the value one. That value has never been given a geometric defence. Measured across the family with the same battery of tests as every other surface, the worst angular error over the field has a minimum, and the minimum is at 1.04.
Conformal is not undistorted
The most distorted-looking picture in ordinary circulation is the little planet — a 360 photograph re-projected from below, with the ground curled into a ball. Its worst angular error over 160 degrees of the sphere is 4.4e-8 degrees, which is arithmetic noise. Every crossing in the original crosses at exactly the same angle in the result, and what has gone is area, over a factor of 255.
Six flat pictures of everything
There is one way to photograph the whole sphere and keep every straight line straight, and it is to stop using one surface. Six flat pictures at ninety degrees cover everything, each of them a perfect pinhole, and the price is paid entirely at the seams — where a straight line does not bend but kinks, by an angle that reaches 45 degrees and is exactly zero for the lines lying in the seam's own plane.
The lines a surface leaves alone
Only the plane draws every straight line straight, which is easy to measure and which gets read as though a curved surface bent everything. It does not. Every curved picture surface here keeps a one-parameter family of world lines exactly straight, and the family is a curve on the sphere of lines rather than a region of it — so a grid of samples finds none of it, which is what the first version of this measurement reported.
Undoing a picture made on a curve
Three rounds of work here have measured what a curved receiving surface costs going forward — 5.67 mm on a dish, 9.07 mm on a ridge, 529.4 mm on a vault. None of them asked whether the design can be got back. It can, exactly, and the price is stated precisely: you have to supply the surface. Told the floor, the recovery returns a design to 1.1e-12 mm; told nothing, and fitting the four marks every rectification tool fits, it is 111 mm out.
How well the floor has to be known
“Supply the surface” is an instruction with no number in it, and an instruction with no number is a wish. Here is the number: the error in the recovered design is very nearly proportional to the error in the assumed curvature — the constant varies by 1.4% across a twentyfold range — so about nine parts in a thousand of the curvature buys one millimetre on a design 1800 mm wide, and 40% out costs 43.5 mm.
The floors that unroll
A ridged floor curves visibly and can be laid flat without stretching anything — 7.4e-9 of strain across the patch. A dished floor curves less and cannot be laid flat by any means whatever. The difference is one number, Gaussian curvature, and it is the number Gauss proved no bending can change: 0 for the ridge, 0.0144 per square metre for the dish, and no cleverness in the flattening touches it.
The third column is area
This field has measured what each picture surface does to straight lines and to shape. Both are questions for somebody looking at the picture. Somebody counting in it wants a third column, and the same projections have been returning it all along without anybody asking: the equal-area fisheye holds a square degree at one printed area to 8e-8 across 80° off axis, while a flat plane inflates it 191-fold.
Counting cloud by counting pixels
A sky camera looks up and something counts the white pixels. On an equal-area fisheye that answer is right to 0.01%, which is the grid's own error. On an equidistant one it is 9% low, on stereographic 27% low, and on an ordinary flat lens 77% low — against a cover that is known exactly, because the clouds here are caps whose solid angles add. Weighting each pixel by the surface's area scale repairs every one of them to better than a fifth of a per cent.
The pivot that is not the eye
A camera bolted to a tripod turns about the screw under its baseplate, and the light crosses somewhere else. Every ray of the panorama that results passes the pivot by e sin γ — the offset times the sine of how far off its own frame's axis the ray points — so the picture has a radius where a projection would have a point.
The parallax you cannot shoot away
A stitched panorama's parallax has two halves and they do not behave alike. The one across the seam falls as the sine of half a frame spacing, so more frames buy it off; the one up the frame is the sine of half the frame's own height, and no quantity of shooting touches it. They cross at π over β, which has no pivot error in it at all.
The camera that is a cylinder
A swing-lens camera turns its lens about its own entrance pupil and sweeps a slit across film bent into a circle concentric with it. Compute where the light lands, unroll the film, undo the pinhole's inversion, and the result is not similar to the cylindrical picture surface — it is the same map, to the arithmetic floor. What it pays instead is detail, and a shear on anything that moves.
A rig is right on one surface
Several cameras looking outward have several centres, and no warp registers all of a scene. The residual is a disparity, so the depth the stitch is computed for has an exact optimum — the harmonic midpoint of the depth range, not the middle of it — and the arithmetic middle costs a factor of 2 z_far over the sum, which tends to two.
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 conditions, and three prices
A matched picture needs the seat, the horizontal scale and the vertical law all at once. Each is broken alone here with the other two held, and all three turn out to be linear in the mismatch — the unforgiving case, with no margin at all. The vertical law costs a third of an arcminute on a television and eighty-four on a dome, because it is the difference between an angle and its tangent and that difference is cubic in the picture's vertical field.
The surface a screen wants
Six picture surfaces laid on one screen and viewed from the seat its curvature names, each with its own extents fitted so the ranking is about shape rather than scale. Each screen's own surface is exactly right on it and nothing else is — and on a curved television the runner-up is a fifth of an arcminute behind, which nobody can see.
A picture that can be printed
Two screens are fed the surface that is exactly right for each, so nothing about the viewer is left in the answer. What remains is whether the picture can be made flat before it goes up — and a cylinder unrolls while a sphere does not, so the dome's picture is stretched by eighteen per cent between its middle and its rim before anybody sits down.
Where a surface spends its pixels
A picture surface is a budget before it is anything else, and the six named ones distribute the same marks over the same directions quite differently. The flat plane lays 25.0 times as many on a square degree at the edge of a 70° field as on one at the centre; the equal-area fisheye is flat to 8.3e-6 per cent.
The horizon's shape belongs to the surface
The horizon is one great circle of directions whatever draws it, and at zero tilt all six named surfaces draw it straight. Tilt the camera and they separate — and the cylinder, not the equirectangular surface, is the one whose horizon is exactly a cosine, to 9e-16 against 8.3e-3.
A pole is a line
An equirectangular surface sends one direction to a whole edge, so an 8° cap of sky at the pole takes 4.50 per cent of the marks against a 0.49 per cent share of the world. The worst singularity is not the pole at all — the equidistant fisheye's antipode costs ×17.9 — and only the cube map, which never holds a sphere in one chart, is bounded.
The kink at a seam
A cube map is six flat pictures, so every great circle is drawn exactly straight inside a face — to 3e-15 of its chord — and breaks at the join. The break is a kink and not a bend, it is exactly zero at a seam's midpoint whatever the slant, and it is bounded by 2·atan(½) = 53.130° at the corner.
Shot on one surface, shown on another
Two picture surfaces are two charts of the same pencil of rays, so a reprojection between them is a change of coordinates and loses no geometry at all — bit-exact at all 408 sampled directions. What it costs lies elsewhere — 70 per cent of the source has nowhere to go, and the target wants ×5.49 the marks at its edge.
Which rule a fisheye obeys, from straightness alone
Four candidate rules for a fisheye lens part by 54.0 per cent at 45° off axis, and a plumb-line fit shown no scene, no camera and no calibration target can still name which one took a photograph — reliably from about 45° of half-field. Below that the four are indistinguishable in the marks, and naming one collapses to guessing.
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.
The arcs the five-point construction actually draws
The taught five-point construction draws circular arcs between five vanishing points and instructs a draughtsman to graduate the radius evenly. Read that way, the arcs miss a straight line's true image by up to 3.75 pixels on a 300-pixel disc. Read at the stereographic scale instead, the same arcs are exact to 4.3e-13 pixels — the construction was always drawing one projection, and the taught scale was never 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.