The thread: The round trip — page 3
The 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.
Where to standThe marks name the place, not the height
Run the camera-recovery round trip on an anamorph — hand it the floor marks and ask for the eye back — and it returns the spot on the floor to eleven decimal places with nothing assumed at all. It does not return the height. What the marks fix is the product of the eye's height with the design's aspect ratio, and no amount of looking at the floor separates the two.
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.
Measuring from one pictureThe dish no outline reaches
An outline is a pair of numbers per direction and nothing more, so a shape built from outlines has two errors that behave differently. The part outside the convex hull falls as one over the square of the view count. The part inside a concavity is the same area at four views and at a hundred and twenty-eight, because no pair of supporting lines ever reaches into a bite.
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.
Surfaces that are not flatUndoing 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.
The second projectionWhat 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.
The rectangle behind the lensFocusing 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°.
Many pictures at onceClosing a loop mends its ends
Twenty-four cameras walked once round a ring of walls, every mark read to a pixel. Recognising the twenty-two points seen at both ends makes the last camera six and a half times better placed relative to the first — and the worst camera, across the ring, only a fifth better. A closure mends the ends of a walk and barely touches its far side.
The eye that movesA scroll can be asked its own radius
The two marks a bend leaves separate exactly. The along-roll scale alone fixes the angle in the disparity, so one point and a neighbour at its depth give back the radius and the depth in closed form — 200 m and 40 m returned to a part in 10⁹, with no search. The two answers are not equally held: a scale read one per cent too large under-reads the depth by one per cent and over-reads the radius by tan(φ − α)/α, which is 50 for a point ten metres from a five-hundred-metre bend. And a painter who evens the scale out by eye reports a gentler bend, never a bend that was never there.
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.
Measuring from one pictureAn outline reaches a waist and not a dish
In a cross-section nothing a silhouette does can enter a concavity. On a solid that stops being true, because a solid has lines a section does not contain. A spool's waist comes back in full from a ring of outlines, and a dish in the same object's lid never does. What decides it is whether a straight line can leave, and the answer is water.
What survivesThe two points a picture hides
The stratification rung says a photograph of a plane is projective, becomes affine when the vanishing line is known, and becomes metric with one more fact. The one more fact has a size and a shape: it is two points, complex conjugates on the vanishing line, and a rectification built from those two and nothing else returns every world angle to a tenth of a picodegree and every ratio of lengths to five parts in a quadrillion — and refuses to name a length.
Light and mirrorsThe lamp is the second eye
One photograph, one lamp whose position is known, and a point's place in space comes back to 9e-16 m — the camera's ray through the point, the lamp's ray through the image of its shadow, and the intersection of two lines. It is triangulation with one of the two eyes replaced by a light, and it degrades exactly like a stereo pair: 5.9 mm of depth per pixel at 39° between the rays, 1 mm at 15.4°.
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.
Through water and glassA 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 rectangle behind the lensA 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.
Measuring from one pictureA groove is reached only along its own plane
A groove round a drum is the kind of hollow outlines can clear, and a level ring clears it completely. Raise the camera three degrees and more than half of it stays filled at any number of views. On this object the height of the camera decides the result, and the count of views buys almost nothing.
What survivesOne conic calibrates the camera
A focal length is usually recovered from two perpendicular vanishing points by an orthocentre construction with a square root in it. There is a second derivation with no construction and no square root — two vanishing points of perpendicular directions must be conjugate with respect to one conic in the picture — and the two agree to the last bit. They are not two methods. The conic is what a calibrated camera is.
Many pictures at onceA loop's far side is a length
The worst camera on a closed loop of twenty-four is 411 mm from certain along the line from the start and 64 mm across it. A picture taken across the ring from the start tripod measures directions and moves the worst camera from 418 mm to 405. One distance measured across the ring to 10 mm moves it to 74, and a four-metre length measured on the start wall to 112. What the far side of a loop lacks is not a connection but a length.
The other systemsWhat two parallel views leave free
Two perspective pictures give shape and no size. Two parallel pictures do not even give shape: the metric upgrade has six unknowns, two views supply six equations, and the system comes out rank five — a one-parameter family of solids that redraw both pictures to 7e-16 m. A third view closes it, and the mirror image survives every count.
Light and mirrorsTwo lamps and one map
A flat object lit by two lamps casts two shadows, and one is the other scaled about a point — ratio 1.2509 here, carrying every point of the first outline onto the second to 1e-15 m. No rotation and no shear is available to it, because a projection between two parallel planes has its axis at infinity. And the ratio is exactly 1 when the two lamps are at the same height, which makes a pair of shadows a measurement of the lamps.
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.