The thread: Projected, not constructed — page 3
The near plane can be any plane
Rewrite one row of a projection matrix and the near plane stops being perpendicular to the axis and becomes whatever plane is asked for. Every x and every y is untouched — it is the same projection of the same scene from the same eye — and the depth order is wrecked, which is a clean separation of the two things a projection matrix does.
What each system gave upFour surfaces, and no one camera that draws them
Read under one assumed camera, the floor, footstool, table and book of a constructed divergent picture imply tilts of 36.7°, 65.1°, 54.2° and 78.2°, where one camera photographing four parallel surfaces gives each of them 35.0°. But the spread between the tilts is 46.8° under a 260 px lens and 6.7° under a 5,000 px one, so it measures the lens as much as the picture. The measure that owes nothing to a lens is on the page: the nearest drawing one camera could make moves the far corners by 17.6 px.
The other systemsThe ellipse the drawing office draws
Every isometric ellipse template is cut to a construction of four circular arcs, and every account of it calls the result an ellipse. It is not one and cannot be: a circular arc has constant curvature and a conic's varies, so the two can agree at four points and nowhere between. The four-centre curve reaches 2√2/3 of the true semi-major axis — 5.72% short — and its minor axis is 3.53% too long.
What survivesFour lines have a cross-ratio
The cross-ratio is introduced as a property of four points on a line. Its dual — four lines through a point carry the same number, and any transversal reads it back — is not a second theorem. It is why the first one is true: four rays from an eye are a pencil, every picture of them is a section of that pencil, and a quantity belonging to the pencil cannot depend on which section was taken.
Surfaces that are not flatSix 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.
What a machine computesOne plane is nearly free
The near and far planes enter a depth buffer's precision through 1/near − 1/far, and one of those reciprocals is enormous. Pushing the far plane out by a factor of a thousand costs a tenth of a per cent; bringing the near plane in by the same factor costs a factor of a thousand — and an infinite far plane is the limit of the first rather than a separate case.
The real instrumentA tilted sensor is not a distortion
Tilt a sensor 3° out of square with its lens and every point of the picture moves — up to 7.5 px on the frame drawn here — yet every straight line stays straight to 10⁻¹³ px and the cross-ratio survives to 10⁻¹⁶. The picture is an ordinary pinhole picture whose principal point has moved 22.30 px. A calibration that frees its principal point absorbs it exactly; one that holds the principal point and reaches for tangential distortion terms leaves 1.87 px, and used as a correction it bends straight rows by 4 px.
What survivesThe centre, got back out of the picture
The image of a circle's centre is not the centre of the image ellipse — this site measured the gap four phases ago and left the obvious question unanswered. It has an exact answer, it needs a straightedge and the horizon, and it is one sentence: the image of the centre is the pole of the vanishing line with respect to the image conic.
Surfaces that are not flatThe 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.
Constructing a viewThe ramp has its own horizon
Every plane has a vanishing line, and a ramp's is not the ground's. Its uphill edges meet on a line above the horizon, and the angle at the eye between that meeting point and the same direction taken level is the gradient — 22.0000° recovered against 22° built, out of the picture alone, with no scale, no ruler and nothing known about the scene except that the ground is level.
Drawn confidentlySix tangents and the point nobody drew
Brianchon's theorem is a test a reader can run on a finished drawing with nothing but a straightedge — six tangents, three diagonals, and a question about whether they meet. Pointed at the drawing office's four-centre ellipse it rejects the curve by 1.7 per cent of the figure's own width, 546 times the instrument's own floor, with no true ellipse to compare against.
What each system gave upOne camera means one horizon, not one point
The test this field has been using asks whether a picture's surfaces share a meeting point. One camera photographing four parallel surfaces turned by different angles in their own planes gives them meeting points 1,065 px apart in column and identical in height to 3 × 10⁻¹² px — so the shared-point test charges 28.7 px to a picture one camera really took, and the charge grows with the turn. What one camera imposes is a shared vanishing line. The earlier verdicts survive intact, and for a narrower reason than they looked to have.
What survivesAn angle is a cross-ratio
A projection destroys angle, which every account of perspective says and a direct measurement confirms. It destroys it only in the sense that the picture no longer carries it for free — because an angle is a cross-ratio taken against two particular points, and once those two points are located in a photograph the world's angles can be read off it directly, with no rectification, no camera, and nothing measured but which lines pass through which points.
The other systemsThe view that makes a line a point
Descriptive geometry's first drill is to look at an edge from a direction perpendicular to it, so it draws at true length, and then along it, so it draws as a point. Both are the same identity — the imaged length is the true length times the sine of the angle to the ray — and the sine holds to 1e-12 across the whole sweep of directions.
Light and mirrorsA shadow across an edge
A straight rod's shadow crossing the crease between floor and wall is two straight pieces, each dead straight to 1e-15 m, meeting at 35.08°. The corner is a fact about the room and not about the rod. Fit the floor's map from four marks and apply it across the whole shadow and the part on the wall comes back up to 78.9 cm from the object — the wrong map, applied confidently.
Constructing a viewThe bay repeated by a straightedge
Draw one bay, then repeat it by diagonals alone — no measurement, no scale, no arithmetic — and after twelve bays the constructed corners sit 1e-12 px from the corners the camera projects. It is exact because the operation being iterated is a homology of the picture, not because the draughtsman was careful, and that separates it from every construction in this site's `wrong` field.
Systems that kept the measureThe 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.
What each system gave upThe rows under a splay measure the bays, not the lean
A splayed strip drawn with its rows evenly spaced is still an exact picture of one flat plane leaning toward the eye — the straight sides fix the plane, whatever the rows do. What the rows decide is how deep each bay is, and evenly spaced ones make the near bay deeper than the far by nearly the square of the splay. That, and the six-per-cent gap between even rows and a camera's, depends on the splay alone — not on the lean, the distance or the lens.
Where to standA 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.
Constructing a viewCarrying 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.
Drawn confidentlyThe minor axis is not the axle
A wheel's perspective ellipse is supposed to have its short axis along the axle, and it does — on the principal ray, to 5e-14 degrees, and nowhere else. Off it the two part by 5.95 degrees on an ordinary frame while the drawn curves stay 0.98 px apart. A sphere obeys a rule of exactly the same shape and obeys it everywhere, which is why nobody caught the difference.
The eye that movesThe stations are also a staircase
A level eye draws a ground point on a row that depends on the eye's height and the ground's only through their difference. So a landscape drawn from three stations at 1.6, 4 and 11 m over flat ground is, to 6 × 10⁻¹⁴ px across ninety-nine samples, the same picture as one eye at 11 m over ground stepped 9.4 m and 7.0 m above the far plain. The station heights a reader recovers are recovered on an assumption the marks neither supply nor test — and what would decide between the two readings is a cliff 103% of a band's own height, which is exactly where the convention lays its mist.
The other systemsThe true shape of a cut
A plane through a box makes a hexagon of 2.8996 m². The front view draws it at 1.9966 m² — the true area times the cosine, 0.6886 — and gets its corners wrong as well, the worst by 15.60°, because a foreshortening scales one direction and not the other. The area is recoverable with one number and the angles are not, which is why a section gets a view of its own.
Constructing a viewA 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.