Viewing distance — where it appears
Named by 18 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
How fine a colour edge can be
The eye resolves a lightness pattern to about fifty cycles per degree and a red–green one to twelve. Every colour difference here is quoted as though a patch had no size, and the same difference is plainly visible at one scale and gone at another.
A difference has no size
A colour difference formula answers a question about two large patches seen side by side. Applied to a pattern, it reports fourteen units where the eye is left with less than one — and the ratio depends on nothing but how finely the difference is spread.
Banding is not a bit depth
Eight bits bands at thirty times threshold in the shadows and at under three at mid grey, on the same ramp with the same encoding. What decides is where in the tone scale the gradient sits, how sharp each step's edge is, and how far away the reader is — and a bit count contains none of the three.
A pattern has a direction
Every spatial claim here is a claim about a frequency, and a frequency has no direction in it. Turning a printed screen forty-five degrees makes it exactly twice as quiet with nothing else changed — and the same rotation does nothing at all to a chromatic one.
A tint at the edge of a page
The last phase left this join open and guessed at its answer — how visible a halftone tint is away from the centre of gaze should be the product of two effects it had measured separately. It is not the product. At five degrees the guess is fifty-three times too generous, and by twenty it is out by eight orders of magnitude.
What a still eye stops seeing
A stabilised image is said to vanish, and nothing in a temporal filter predicts it — sensitivity at zero frequency is a quarter of the peak, not nothing. Give the adaptation gain a size and the answer falls out — fading is a high-pass filter that switches on over a minute, it takes the fill and leaves the outline, and a patch has to be about two degrees across before it goes at all.
A halftone is a luminance object
The eye's three spatial channels resolve a screen at 55, 15 and 10 cycles per degree, so at any ruling a press actually runs only one of them can see it at all. The corollary corrects a guess already published here — rotating a screen matters more to the chromatic channels, not less — but only at rulings so coarse that nobody prints there.
Measured with an aperture, seen with an eye
A spectrophotometer averages a halftone patch and reports one reflectance. An eye blurs it first and compresses afterwards, and the average of a concave function is below the function of the average — so a resolvable screen looks darker than it measures, by fourteen lightness units at a coarse ruling and by nothing at a fine one. The correction a press applies is the same size and has no viewing distance in it.
A pixel has an aperture too
A camera photographing a translucent object has the same two discs a spectrophotometer has — one lit, one looked at — and gets them the other way round. Its illumination covers the whole scene, so the flat colour of a translucent surface comes out exactly right at any magnification, and the error moves entirely into the edges.
Two blurs before the eye's own
A translucent object arrives at the eye already blurred, by a kernel that is a property of the material rather than of the optics. On every material in this collection's table that blur is coarser at ordinary reading distance than the finest detail the eye can resolve — so the softness of marble or skin or wax is not a failure of vision, it is the object.
The eye keeps the lightness errors
Four essays have priced what a resize taken on stored values costs, in colour differences between pixels. A reader does not see a pixel. Put the two versions of each image through the visual system's own three channels and the ranking reverses: the unsharp mask, the largest error per pixel at 16.6, is seen at 6.3 on a printed page, while the corner's 7.1 is seen at 9.9. What decides it is not the size of an error but how much of it is colour.
The eye counts a corner's error, not its peak
A Lanczos-magnified patch errs a fifth more at its corner than along its edges, pixel by pixel, and an unsharp mask errs almost exactly as much at its corner as along its edges. Filtered by the eye over the plane rather than along a line, the two swap: the magnified corner is seen exactly as its edge is, and on a printed page the sharpened corner is seen at 2.4 times its edge. What decides it is whether the error changes sign. Ringing averages away and a one-sided halo does not, and a corner is where two edges' halos land on the same patch of retina.
Sharpened type errs on its dark side
A sharpened square hides its halo along its edges and shows it at its corners, so a sharpened page of type was predicted to show its error at the corners of its letters, several times out of proportion to their length. Black type does the opposite: its outer corners and stroke ends hold between two thirds and nine tenths of their share. As the eye leaves it, the error lies on the dark side of every edge, and a corner holds as much of it as it has dark ground around it — a quarter of a disc where a black corner points out into paper, three quarters where black wraps round a pale one.
A serif moves the error and adds little
When a scanned page is sharpened on its stored values, the error the eye sees lies on the dark side of every edge, so black sans-serif type does not gather it at its corners. The worry was that a serif changes that: every stroke end gains a bar and every bar an inside angle, the configuration where large letters did gather error. It does not. Black serif type's brackets hold three quarters of their share of the error and its serif tips half. Reversed, the serif tips hold two and a half times theirs. Across both, serifs lengthen the outline by a tenth and the error by a few per cent — they move it, and in black type away from the corners.
A hairline spills its error onto the paper
Sharpening a scanned page on its stored values errs on the dark side of every edge, which is why black type's serifs hold less than their share of the error at text sizes. A hairline serif, a tenth of a stem, was expected to change that at display sizes: its dark side is so thin that the halo would wrap its corners. It does not. From 12 to 48 point, black type's hairline tips hold a third to three fifths of their share, less than slab serifs' tips, and the share falls as the letter grows. What gathers at display sizes is the junction of bar and stem, with or without serifs — and where the scan lands the letter against the pixels moves a tip's share more than its size does.
A junction gathers by the width of its stem
Black type sharpened on its stored values gathers its error at the junctions of bar and stem, and gathers more as the letter grows. The mechanism offered for that was the stem growing past the eye's pool, which predicts that size is only standing in for the stem's width in pixels. Drawn at three weights and five sizes, the junctions' share ranks with the stem's width at 0.97 and with the point size at 0.85, and where two weights have stems within six tenths of a pixel of each other their junctions agree to within a tenth. The width is nearly the whole story. The part it leaves over is small and one-sided: at the same stem width, the heavier letter gathers a little more in five pairs of six.
A closed counter adds a little to a junction
Sharpened on its stored values, black type's junctions — the inside angles where a bar meets a stem — gather error by the stem's width in pixels, and at equal widths a heavier letter gathers slightly more. A heavier letter differs in two ways: it is smaller around its stem, and its counters are narrower. Holding the stem and moving the spacing separates them. At equal stem widths, closing the counters adds about four hundredths of their share to the junctions and one hundredth to the stroke ends, and twice as much to E and H, whose bars face each other across a counter, as to L and T. The prediction was the counter, and the counter it is — by an amount no larger than a sub-pixel position moves it. Drawing the letters apart found the stem census's light H with its crossbar floating.
Width and height each carry half the counter's gain
Closing a sharpened letter's spacing at a fixed stem width raised its junctions' share of the error the eye sees by about four hundredths, and the spacing moved the letter's width and height together. A type family's condensed and extended faces separate them: the counters across the letter narrow while its height and stem stay put. The prediction was that the condensed letters' junctions would carry the whole four hundredths. They carry half — 0.023 — with the stroke ends moving by four thousandths. Shortening the letter at one width carries the other half, also 0.023, and the two add to within four thousandths of what closing both did. Each half is found where its own counter lies — condensing gains most in the H, shortening in the E — and the T, which has no counter across it, gains nothing when condensed. Neither half, on its own, is larger than one and a half times the scatter a sub-pixel position produces.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Contrast sensitivitySpatial frequencyImage differenceLightnessOpponent processingSharpeningLuminanceHalftoneSamplingΔEProcess inksThreshold