The thread: The surface is a choice — page 2
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 second projectionThe evenness a curve buys
A curved screen is sold on evenness, and evenness turns out to be three quantities that disagree. On pixel pitch the curve wins from every seat; on the angle the glass is turned through it wins until three and a half metres along the sofa; on the plain distance from eye to glass — the reading the argument is usually made in — it gives up before half a metre.
Surfaces that are not flatThe 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 second projectionA wider screen keeps its seat under one rule
A renderer given a wider screen must choose between growing the horizontal field and shrinking the vertical one. Players prefer the first by a large margin. It keeps a picture's station point exactly where it was, so a viewer who was too far back stays too far back by the same factor while the edges reach further out. The despised rule moves the seat back, and on a very wide screen it arrives at the player's own chair.
Surfaces that are not flatThe 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.
The second projectionMatching buys one seat
Feeding a curved screen its own picture surface makes the picture exact at one point and worse everywhere else than the flat picture it replaced. Forty centimetres along the sofa the two cross, and past that the matched picture is the worse of the pair — because a flat picture is mediocre everywhere and a matched one is perfect at a point and falls away from it faster.
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.
Surfaces that are not flatCounting 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.
Where to standThe design that outruns the floor
A pavement anamorph of a design forty per cent of eye height needs two metres of floor. Eighty per cent needs thirteen. Ninety-four per cent needs fifty, ninety-nine per cent needs three hundred and seventeen, and the sky needs an infinite one — because the ray through a design point level with the eye never comes down. Depth times the height still to go, divided by the height already reached, is the eye's own distance at every point of the family.
The eye that movesWhere a seam is allowed to go
Putting a join further off cuts the offset it forces from 210 px to 24 and leaves the turn at 23.2° exactly, so emptiness is a painter's only defence. And emptiness is not counted in metres: one twelve-metre object blocks 6.3 per cent of a landscape's depth wherever it stands and between 1.0 and 35.6 per cent of the picture, so how much room a seam has is set by where the landscape is crowded rather than by how much.
Where to standThe anamorph that crosses a corner
Cast one design onto a floor and the wall at the end of it, from one eye. Each plane gets a collineation of its own; the two agree on the line where the planes meet, exactly, because a point of that line is a point of both. What they do not agree about is scale — the design runs 7.8 times its own size along the floor and 2.0 times up the wall, and the jump at the join is a factor of 3.9.
Surfaces that are not flatThe 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 eye that movesA seam that bends trades a turn for a gap
A join laid along a river bank instead of across one depth was supposed to go round what crosses it instead of avoiding it. It can, at a price: the far band can be lifted by one amount only, so a seam that wanders in depth opens a gap between the bands — 3 px buys the first join 1.2 m of wander, and going all the way round a twelve-metre object costs 15.8 px. Across a hundred landscapes, bending opens under 0.4 per cent of the picture that a straight seam did not already have.
Where to standThe height a flat floor cannot give
The marks of a floor anamorph name the eye's position on the floor exactly and say nothing about how high it was — every candidate height explains them perfectly, to one part in a thousand trillion. That is a fact about planes rather than about anamorphs. Ripple the floor by six centimetres and the family collapses: the true height explains the marks exactly and the nearest wrong one, five centimetres away, leaves two millimetres on a design 1.8 metres wide.
Surfaces that are not flatThe 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.
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.
Where to standA stair does not use all its faces
A corner anamorph is two homologies and a flight of nine steps is eighteen, which is arithmetic and is the least of it. What a flight has that a corner does not is that which faces exist and which faces can be painted are different questions. From the top of a descending flight not one riser is reachable at any eye height, so half the planes are unpaintable by construction — and from the bottom of an ascending one, 58 per cent of the picture lands on risers that are 36 per cent of the surface.
Where to standWhat an eye can paint
A flight of steps has eighteen faces and no eye reaches more than fifteen. Pointed at a cluster of blocks, a seating rake and a corridor with a doorway in it, the same measurement finds 8 of 21, 7 of 13 and 6 of 7 — and the plane, which offers its whole self to every eye, is the control that makes the law a law rather than a fact about stairs.
The eye that movesA band lifted by columns bends its lines
A curved seam in a several-station landscape opens a gap because the far band is one picture lifted by one amount. Lift it column by column instead and the seam closes exactly — and the gap goes into the band's lines. Shift each column and every road bends by twice the old gap, horizon and all. Draw each column from its own eye and a road bends by 8.1 px near the seam and 3.0 at the band's far edge, dying only as one over its depth; the horizon stays straight; and the next join inherits 37 per cent of the gap the first one lost.
Light and mirrorsThe residual has a shape
A flat-floor map mispredicts a shadow by millimetres on any floor that is not flat, and the number everybody quotes is the worst one. Tune a dish, a ridge and a step until all three mispredict by exactly 25.0 millimetres and the scalar can no longer tell them apart — by construction. The signed residual around the ring still can. The second harmonic of it reads 0.09%, 2.79% and 19.37%, a factor of two hundred across three floors the headline number calls identical.
Where to standFacing the reader is not being reachable
A face turns toward the eye or it does not, and that is a dot product any reader can compute. Whether the eye’s rays actually land on it is a different question with a different answer — on a seating rake, three faces of ten that face the reader receive nothing, and they are 27 per cent of the facing area. On a corner the same test loses nothing at all, which is what makes the gap occlusion rather than arithmetic.
Surfaces that are not flatDrawn 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.
The eye that movesA painter's closing can be read from one band
A band of a several-station landscape closed along a curved seam carries the record of how. A station per column bends a road by one over its depth, a column-wise shift bends every road alike, and one lift bends none. Four roads read to a pixel name the closing nearly every time, down to a station curve of about six centimetres, and the reading survives every depth being misjudged by the same factor.
What survivesThe ball at the edge of the frame
A ball photographed near the edge of a wide picture is not drawn as a circle. It is an ellipse, longer along the radius from the centre of the picture than across it, and the centre of that ellipse is not the image of the centre of the ball. Both are properties of the flat sheet the picture is on, and an exact pinhole produces both.