Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
Contemporary vacuum cleaner dust brush heads have bristles in some combination of [long | short] with [flexy | stiff]. The long + flexy combination results in the bristles jamming the inlet and the short + stiff combo seems unsuited for complex surfaces. Shaking the Amazonian dice brought a different combination:
Vacuum cleaner dust brush assortment – with adapters
That’s the new one on the bottom and, contrary to what you might think from the picture, it is not identical to the one just above it.
In particular, the black plastic housing came from a different mold (the seam lines are now top-and-bottom) and required a new adapter for the Kenmore Progressive vacuum cleaner’s complicated wand / hose inlet, with a 3/4 inch PVC pipe reinforcement inside.
Early reports indicate it works fine, so I’ll declare a temporary victory in the war on entropy.
As part of a recent homeowner project, I applied a file to dull pruning saw that, as far as I can recall, Came With The House™ and has been untouched for decades:
Pruning Saw sharpening – top view
Yeah, that’s a lot of steel filings; it was really really dull. Notice how they’re neatly lined up toward the blade?
It looks better from the side:
Pruning Saw sharpening – side view
Despite my crude technique, it cuts wood like a hot knife through butter.
Rummaging through the Big Box o’ Optics in search of something else produced this doodad:
Microscope objective illuminator – overview
It carries no brand name or identifier, suggesting it was shop-made for a very specific and completely unknown purpose. The 5× objective also came from the BBo’O, but wasn’t related in any way other than fitting the threads, so the original purpose probably didn’t include it.
The little bulb fit into a cute and obviously heat-stressed socket:
Microscope objective illuminator – bulb detail
The filament was, of course, broken, so I dismantled the socket and conjured a quick-n-dirty white LED that appears blue under the warm-white bench lighting:
Microscope objective illuminator – white LED
The socket fits into the housing on the left, which screws onto a fitting I would have sworn was glued / frozen in place. Eventually, I found a slotted grub screw hidden under a glob of dirt:
Microscope objective illuminator – lock screw
Releasing the screw let the fitting slide right out:
Microscope objective illuminator – lamp reflector
The glass reflector sits at 45° to direct the light coaxially down into the objective (or whatever optics it was originally intended for), with the other end of the widget having a clear view straight through. I cleaned the usual collection of fuzz & dirt off the glass, then centered and aligned the reflection with the objective.
Unfortunately, the objective lens lacks antireflection coatings:
Microscope objective illuminator – stray light
The LED tube is off to the right at 2 o’clock, with the bar across the reflector coming from stray light bouncing back from the far wall of the interior. The brilliant dot in the middle comes from light reflected off the various surfaces inside the objective.
An unimpeachable source tells me microscope objectives are designed to form a real image 180 mm up inside the ‘scope tube with the lens at the design height above the object. I have the luxury of being able to ignore all that, so I perched a lensless Raspberry Pi V1 camera on a short brass tube and affixed it to a three-axis positioner:
Microscope objective illuminator – RPi camera lashup
A closer look at the lashup reveals the utter crudity:
Microscope objective illuminator – RPi camera lashup – detail
It’s better than I expected:
Microscope objective illuminator – RPi V1 camera image – unprocessed
What you’re seeing is the real image formed by the objective lens directly on the RPi V1 camera’s sensor: in effect, the objective replaces the itsy-bitsy camera lens. It’s a screen capture from VLC using V4L2 loopback trickery.
Those are 0.1 inch squares printed on the paper, so the view is about 150×110 mil. Positioning the camera further from the objective would reduce both the view (increase the magnification) and the amount of light, so this may be about as good as it get.
The image started out with low contrast from all the stray light, but can be coerced into usability:
The weird violet-to-greenish color shading apparently comes from the lens shading correction matrix baked into the RPi image capture pipeline and can, with some difficulty, be fixed if you have a mind to do so.
As far as I can tell, Raspberry Pi cases are a solved problem, so 3D printing an intricate widget to stick a Pi on the back of an HQ camera seems unnecessary unless you really, really like solid modeling, which, admittedly, can be a thing. All you really need is a simple adapter between the camera PCB and the case of your choice:
The plate has recesses to put the screw heads below the surface. I used nylon screws, but it doesn’t really matter.
The case has all the right openings, slots in the bottom for a pair of screws, and costs six bucks. A pair of M3 brass inserts epoxied into the plate capture the screws:
RPi HQ Camera – case adapter plate – screws
Thick washers punched from an old credit card go under the screws to compensate for the case’s silicone bump feet. I suppose Doing the Right Thing would involve 3D printed spacers matching the cross-shaped case cutouts.
Not everyone agrees with my choice of retina-burn orange PETG:
RPi HQ Camera – 16 mm lens – case adapter plate
Yes, that’s a C-mount TV lens lurking in the background, about which more later.
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As part of spiffing my video presence for SquidWrench Zoom meetings, I put a knockoff RPi V1 camera into an Az-El mount, stuck it to a Raspberry Pi, installed the latest OS Formerly Known as Raspbian, did a little setup, and perched it on the I-beam over the workbench:
Raspberry Pi – workbench camera setup
The toothbrush head has a convenient pair of neodymium magnets affixing the RPi’s power cable to the beam, thereby preventing the whole lashup from falling off. The Pi, being an old Model B V 1.1, lacks onboard WiFi and requires a USB WiFi dongle. The white button at the lower right of the heatsink properly shuts the OS down and starts it up again.
Zoom can show video only from video devices / cameras attached to the laptop, so the trick is to make video from the RPi look like it’s coming from a local laptop device.
Start by exporting video from the Raspberry Pi:
raspivid --nopreview -t 0 -rot 180 -awb sun --sharpness -50 --flicker 60hz -w 1920 -h 1080 -ae 48 -a 1032 -a 'RPi Cam1 %Y-%m-%d %X' -b 1000000 -l -o tcp://0.0.0.0:5000
The -rot 180 -awb sun --sharpness -50 --flicker 60hz parameters make the picture look better. The bottom of the video image There is no way to predict which side of the video will be on the same side as the cable, if that’s any help figuring out which end is up, and the 6500 K LED tubes apparently fill the shop with “sun”.
The -l parameter causes raspivid to wait until it gets an incoming tcp connection on port 5000 from any other IP address, whereupon it begins capturing video and sending it out.
That’s the edge of the workbench over there on the left, looking distinctly like a cliff.
The RPi will happily stream video all day long to ffmpeg while you start / stop the display program pulling the bits from the video device. However, killing ffmpeg also kills raspivid, requiring a manual restart of both programs. This isn’t a dealbreaker for my simple needs, but it makes unattended streaming from, say, a yard camera somewhat tricky.
There appear to be an infinite number of variations on this theme, not all of which work, and some of which rest upon an unsteady ziggurat of sketchy / unmaintained software.
Addendum: If you have a couple of RPi cameras, it’s handy to run the matching ssh and ffmpeg sessions in screen / tmux / whatever terminal multiplexer you prefer. I find it easier to flip through those sessions with Ctrl-A N, rather than manage half a dozen tabs in a single terminal window. Your mileage may differ.
The general idea is to hold the wave washer (it’s mashed under the flat washer, honest) above those bumps on the plate holding the mirror and stalk balls. It’s a few millimeters from the end of a ¼ inch brass rod, drilled for the M3 screw, and reduced to 4.5 mm with a parting tool to clear the bumps.
While I was at it, I made two spare mirrors, just to have ’em around:
I should replace the steel clamp plates with a stainless-steel doodad of some sort to eliminate the unsightly rust, but that’s definitely in the nature of fine tuning.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning 