The thread: Projected, not constructed — page 4
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.
What a machine computesA point at infinity is an ordinary vertex
Give a vertex a zero in its fourth slot and it stops being a point and becomes a direction — and the projection matrix draws it anyway, through the same multiply and the same divide, on that direction's vanishing point to seven trillionths of a pixel. Slide the eye ten metres and it does not move. Two of them bound a ground that reaches the horizon, where a ground drawn to ten kilometres stops a fifth of a pixel short.
Drawn confidentlyA cylinder has two different ends
The two end circles of a cylinder image as two different ellipses — 14.4° apart in the direction of their major axes and 0.918 against 0.839 in aspect — and the outline's straight sides touch neither of them where its major axis ends, missing by 28° round the ellipse and 35 pixels. Walking the cylinder away removes the difference between the ends and does not remove the offset of the touch, which settles at 7.3° off the principal ray and at nothing on it.
The eye that movesA seam breaks direction, not size
An eight-metre road crossing the first join of a three-station landscape is drawn 215.4 px wide under either band's rule, identically, and a six-metre post 161.5 px tall under either — the eye's height cancels out of any size taken at one depth. What does not cancel is where those sizes sit. The road's edges are turned 23.2° from each other and the post's foot lands 64.6 px out of place, and a painter butting two bands can absorb the offset and can never absorb the turn.
What survivesWhat a flat map leaves alone
A projectivity of the plane is eight numbers in a matrix, and reading them tells a reader nothing. What it does is decided by its fixed points, and there are exactly three cases: three isolated fixed points, or a whole line of them with one point off it, or a whole line of them with the point fallen onto it. The middle case has five numbers instead of eight and every point slides along a line, and it is what most of the maps this site builds turn out to be.
Constructing a viewSeven is not a power of two
Halving a receding depth by diagonals is exact, and every book gives it. Halving reaches a half, a quarter, three eighths — and never a third, however many times it is spent, because no power of two is divisible by three. There is a construction that reaches every whole fraction, it costs three lines rather than a stack of quadrangles, and the extra ingredient is not a measurement.
Systems that kept the measureThe pond with its trees laid flat
An Egyptian garden pond is drawn in plan with its trees rotated outward about the bank they stand on. A rotation is an isometry, so every length in that drawing is exactly the length it is in the garden — zero error, not a small one. What is spent is the angle between any two faces, which reads 180° across every hinge and is 90° in the garden, and the four walls admit sixteen assemblies, so a reader supplies four bits to fold it back up.
The second eyeRectification 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.
What survivesThree constructions, one map
A shadow cast on a floor, an anamorph painted on one, and a reflection in a mirror are usually treated as three different subjects, each with its own derivation and its own figure. Decomposed into their fixed points and lines, three of them are the same kind of map — a central collineation with a line of fixed points — and the fourth, a rectification, is not. That difference separates changing where a picture is seen from, from changing one picture into another.
Constructing a viewThe circle in the square wants a number
Every manual draws a circle in perspective by inscribing it in a square, crossing the diagonals, and marking four more points about seven tenths of the way out. Seven tenths is right — along the diagonal of the real square. Along the drawn one it is 54 mm off a circle two and a half metres across, and the drawn diagonal is the only diagonal on the paper.
Light and mirrorsA wire with a corner in its shadow
A bent wire has no corner anywhere on it, and its shadow has one. The lamps that do it are not a coincidence — they are a surface in the room, two-dimensional, made of the wire's own tangent lines, and a lamp being carried across the room passes through it.
The other systemsThe dimetric the set square draws
An orthographic direction has two parameters and produces three axis scales, so the achievable triples are a surface rather than a list. The drawing office's dimetric — one axis at 1 in 8, the other at 7 in 8 — has the right three scales exactly and the wrong two angles, and the picture it makes is an oblique projection of a cube rather than an orthographic one.
Systems that kept the measureWhat survives being copied
A workshop copying a drawing from a drawing is a random walk — the spread across lineages grows as the square root of the generation, with a fitted exponent of 0.5001. A workshop copying the method is not, and its exponent is 0.012, which is no growth at all, and after forty generations two lineages started from different originals end up 5 × 10⁻¹⁵ apart. Copying the marks loses the picture; copying the recipe loses the original and keeps the recipe.
What survivesThe conic a circle becomes
A circle photographed is an ellipse, or a parabola, or a hyperbola, and which one is decided by a single incidence: whether the circle reaches the plane through the eye parallel to the picture. Not the lens, not the tilt, not how far away it is. The discriminant of the image agrees with that one test at every point of a sweep, and at the crossing it is zero to 1e-13.
Constructing a viewThe line every nosing is on
Nothing in a staircase points up the pitch. Every surface in it is level or vertical, and its picture has a vanishing point off the horizon all the same — belonging to the line the front edges of the treads lie on. That point is not free: it is collinear with the travel point and the vertical point, and the angle it makes says the rise-to-run the builder chose.
The other systemsWhat one oblique drawing shows
A parallel projection is a linear map from three dimensions to two, so it has a direction it throws away. Slide any point along that direction and its mark does not move — which makes every parallel drawing the drawing of a three-parameter family of solids, and the depth scale a convention chooses is one direction through the family rather than a boundary of it.
Light and mirrorsA hole is not preserved
The shadow of a connected object is connected — always, at every lamp position, and for a reason with no geometry in it. A hole survives in neither direction: a ring's shadow closes up at a computable tilt, and an object with no hole in it casts a shadow that has one.
The other systemsA circle off the coordinate planes
An ellipse template is cut at one ratio, and the ratio is the cosine of one angle: between a coordinate plane's normal and the direction of projection. A face tilted out of that plane needs a different ratio and — the half that gets drawn wrong even when the ratio is close — a major axis pointing somewhere else, perpendicular to the drawn normal rather than to any edge.
Constructing a viewThree-point, laid out with a straightedge
Recovering a camera from a drawing is the familiar direction. The other direction — stand somewhere, measure a room, and lay the picture out — had never been taken in three-point, because the third axis needs a measuring point on a line nobody draws. With it, every corner lands where the camera puts it to three parts in ten million million of a pixel, and nothing anywhere is judged.
What survivesFive marks and the sixth
Five points determine a conic exactly — five coefficients up to scale, five equations, nothing left over — so a fit through five marks on a photograph is not a fit at all. The sixth mark, withheld, lands on the curve to 1.9e-13 px. And the moment a sixth mark is used, the arithmetic changes character completely: it becomes a least-squares problem, and the residual starts telling you something the five could never say.
The other systemsThe shadow rules that hold here
Drop the foot, run a line from the top at forty-five degrees, take the intersection: the drawing manual's shadow construction is exact in a parallel drawing, to arithmetic noise, at every point of the picture and with one set square. It is where the rule came from, and carrying it into a perspective picture is what broke it.
Constructing a viewA drawing has three horizons
The triangle three vanishing points form is not a scaffold. Each of its sides is the vanishing line of one of the three coordinate planes — the floor's horizon and two walls' — and its orthocentre is the centre of the picture. So the horizon a perspective drawing is built on is one side of a triangle, and it is special only because the ground is where things stand.
Surfaces that are not flatThe 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.
What survivesThe polar with a straightedge
Two secants through a point cut a conic at four places; the complete quadrangle they make has two more diagonal points; the line through those is the polar. Not one length, angle or midpoint is used, so the whole construction survives the projection that made the picture — and three unrelated pairs of secants land on the same line to 4.3e-13, while moving the point moves it by fifteen orders of magnitude more.