Astronomy & Celestial Mechanics
the sky, computed
Concept

Diffraction limit — where it appears

The finest angular detail an aperture can deliver, wavelength divided by diameter, inside which nothing is available to it at any contrast whatever. From the ground it is not reached at all beyond about ten centimetres of aperture unless the wavefront is corrected, which is what adaptive optics exists to do.

Named by 5 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

Resolution stops improving at 10 cm of aperture. Angular resolution against aperture at 500 nm, both logarithmic. The falling line is diffraction alone, 1.03 λ/D, which is what a telescope in vacuum delivers and has no floor. The curve is the same telescope under an atmosphere of Fried parameter r₀ = 10 cm, combining diffraction and seeing in quadrature: it follows the diffraction line while D < r₀ and then bends onto a plateau at 0.98 λ/r₀ = 1.01″. An amateur's 100 mm at 0.1 m would resolve 1.062″ above the air and delivers 1.47″ through it; a metre at 1 m would resolve 0.106″ above the air and delivers 1.02″ through it; the VLT at 8.2 m would resolve 0.013″ above the air and delivers 1.01″ through it; the ELT at 39 m would resolve 0.003″ above the air and delivers 1.01″ through it. At 39 m the atmosphere is costing a factor of 371: the aperture is 390 coherence lengths across and every one of the 152,100 patches it collects arrives with a phase of its own. What the extra aperture still buys is photons and speckles, and those two are what adaptive optics and speckle interferometry respectively spend to get the falling line back.

A ten-metre mirror that resolves like a ten-centimetre one

The atmosphere delivers a wavefront in patches about ten centimetres across, and an aperture larger than a patch collects patches rather than detail. Resolution stops improving at that size — and what the extra aperture keeps buying is photons and speckles, which is why there are two entirely different ways out.

sky · Seeing A shadow edge 10.3 metres wide, and a stellar diameter read off how blurred it is. A star disappearing behind the Moon, drawn as intensity against position across the shadow. The horizontal axis is in Fresnel scales of √(λD/2) = 10.3 metres at 550 nm and 3.844e+5 km, which is the only length the problem has; at a limb speed of 0.62 km s⁻¹ one of them takes 16.6 milliseconds to pass, so the whole event is over in a tenth of a second and needs photometry at a kilohertz. The Moon has no atmosphere and its limb is a knife edge, and a knife edge does not cast a shadow with an edge: the intensity at the geometric boundary is 0.250, a quarter rather than a half, and outside it the light overshoots to 1.37 before ringing down. Every one of those numbers is a property of the wave and of nothing else. What the star contributes is the blurring. Each point of the stellar disc casts its own copy of the pattern, displaced by its own position, so the observed trace is the pattern convolved with the star's projected disc — 22.4 metres wide for the 12 milliarcsecond curve, against a 10.3-metre fringe. The contrast falls from 0.28 to 0.04 across the four curves drawn, and inverting that fall is how several hundred stellar diameters were measured with a single telescope, no interferometer, and no resolution at all. The picture cannot show the limitation that ended the technique's dominance: the Moon goes where it goes, so only stars within a few degrees of the ecliptic are ever occulted, and each is occulted at whatever position angle the geometry happens to offer.

The edge of a shadow is a wave

An asteroid's shadow has an edge because the asteroid is large. The Moon's does not — at visible wavelengths and lunar distance the edge of a shadow is ten metres wide, so a lunar occultation is a diffraction pattern sweeping past at half a kilometre a second, and how blurred its fringes are is the star's own diameter.

sky · Occultations Fringe visibility for a 47 mas disc at 575 nm. Fringe visibility against the separation of the two apertures, for a disc 47 milliarcseconds across seen at 575 nm. The solid curve is a uniform disc, |2J₁(x)/x| with x = πθB/λ; it is exactly one at zero baseline, where both apertures see the same wavefront, and falls to zero at 3.08 m — read off the drawn samples, and equal to 1.21967 λ/θ to better than one part in a million. That is the measurement: not a brightness, a baseline. The dashed curve is the same disc with linear limb darkening u = 0.4, whose null is 4.9% further out at 3.23 m — so the same observed null implies 47 mas as a uniform disc and 49.3 mas limb-darkened, and a diameter quoted without its model is a number without a unit. At the 2.54 m aperture of the telescope this was done on, the visibility is still 0.17: one mirror cannot reach the null, which is the same statement as saying it cannot resolve the star.

An angle of five hundredths of an arcsecond

No telescope has ever resolved a star other than the Sun, and stellar diameters are measured anyway — by finding the separation of two apertures at which the star's interference fringes vanish. What that returns is an angle; the radius arrives only when a distance is brought in, and the distance is the worse-known half.

starlight · Angular diameter Contrast against separation, which is where direct imaging lives. Planet-to-star brightness ratio against apparent separation, both logarithmic, for a system 10 parsecs away. The reflected-light curves are A_g(R_p/a)² and fall as the inverse square of the orbit; the thermal curve is the ratio of two Planck functions at 10 µm and does not, which is why every imaged planet so far is young and hot rather than merely large. The vertical lines are diffraction limits λ/D — nothing inside a telescope's own line is reachable by it at any contrast at all. An Earth at ten parsecs sits at 6.3e-10, which is 4 orders of magnitude below the faintest planet yet imaged. The four imaged planets are plotted at their measured near-infrared contrasts rather than at 10 µm, because the near infrared is the band they were found in — which is itself part of the argument, since a young planet is hot enough to be bright where its star is not.

Nine orders of magnitude, half an arcsecond apart

Photographing a planet is not a resolution problem. It is a contrast problem, and the contrast is set by an inverse square that punishes exactly the planets a telescope can most easily separate.

exoplanets · Direct imaging 196 nanometres of wavefront, and a Strehl that depends entirely on the colour. Above, the error budget of an adaptive-optics system, term by term, in nanometres of residual wavefront. The terms are independent and add in quadrature, so the total is 196 nanometres and is dominated by the two largest; removing the smallest term entirely would improve it by under six per cent, which is why an optimisation programme that does not know which term is largest achieves nothing. Below, what that residual delivers: the Strehl ratio, the fraction of the light in the diffraction core, against wavelength. It is the exponential of minus the square of the residual measured in radians, and a radian is a wavelength, so the same physical error is four times smaller in phase at two microns than at half a micron. The system drawn here delivers 1 per cent of its light into the core at 550 nanometres and 73 per cent at 2200, and nothing about it changed between the two.

An error budget added in quadrature

Adaptive optics does not deliver a resolution. It delivers a fraction of the light in the diffraction core, and that fraction is the exponential of minus a sum of squares. Five independent failures of the correction add in quadrature, the largest one decides everything, and the same hardware is useless in the visible and excellent in the infrared.

sky · Seeing

Named alongside it

The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.

Adaptive opticsAngular diameterInterferometryLimb darkeningOccultationAlbedoAngular resolutionAngular separationAnisoplanatismAtmospheric turbulenceCone effectContrast

All concepts