How to take a terrible photo of Manhattanhenge, in five easy steps

http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/may/29/bad-photo-manhattanhenge-new-york

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Taking a good photograph is easy. Any old Tom Dick and Harry on Instagram can take a good photograph. Hold the camera still. Frame someone nicely. Stick it through a filter. Get a million likes.

Easy peasy.

In a world where anyone can capture an adequate image, where anyone can get a still of some scenery, where millennials have grown up with a camera in their pocket or on their computer or embedded in their forehead, the real skill, the true art form, is taking a bad photograph.

I consider myself something of a frontrunner in this field. I’ve been taking bad photos since I got my first disposable Kodak.

I have taken a photo of a man on a horse that completely cut out the horse. I have taken photos that are so overexposed that you can’t make out the subject’s eyes, nose or chin. I have snapped people in front of men’s room signs, covered up people’s heads, cut a baby’s face in half.

This is important, because Friday night marks a biannual event in New York. It’s Manhattanhenge. As the sun goeth down, lucky New Yorkers can look west to east and see the sun perfectly framed along Manhattan’s long, straight streets. It’s like Stonehenge but better, because these buildings are bigger, and it’s more modern and it’s not roped off.

There will be lots of lovely pictures of it on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. And in (online) galleries and in (real) galleries and in ship’s galleys.

But as we’ve established, anyone can do that. If you want to take make your Manhattanhenge photo of that loved one, or those friends, or that stranger really special, then here’s how to do it. While these tips mainly apply to photos of people, I like to think they could come in handy for any subject matter.

Number 1

Be drunk. Be really drunk. Be so drunk that you don’t remember taking a photo at all. The key to a god awful photo is that you only find it the next day, squinting at it as you inspect the screen like a grandma with a remote control. Ideally, you will be looking at the photo as you try and fail to remember where the hell you were, who the hell that person is, and what the hell you were trying to achieve.

Number 2

Take your finger. Put it in front of the lens, so that your phone screen/camera viewfinder is either entirely black or a deep terracotta. Slowly withdraw your finger. Not too fast! You don’t want it disappearing completely. You’ll want it hovering in frame. It’s best at the top, and best if the camera is focusing on that, rather than your subject matter.

Number 3

If it is daytime, locate the sun. It’ll be in the sky. (If it is night, then a streetlight or floodlight will do.) Take your photo device, and point it right at the sun. Get it right in there. You want the sun gushing into the lens, ideally doing permanent damage to your photo device and your delicate eyes. Can’t see anything through the camera? In danger of going blind? Perfect. Now order whoever you’re taking a picture of to stand in frame.

Number 4

Carefully frame up your subjects. Tell them to stand completely still. Utterly still. Tell them that this will, quite literally, take focus. Keep them standing there while you hold your camera phone at arm’s length. Make sure it is waving around a little. Now, very carefully move the camera to the right. When you have it positioned so that the person on the end is either completely cut out of frame or, better yet, dissected, snap your photo.

Number 5

If you’ve followed these steps then a bad photo should be all but guaranteed. Yay! But wait. How can you be absolutely certain that it is truly awful? No one wants to wake up the next morning to a semi-awful photo. To really embrace the bad photo experience, let’s follow those four steps again:

Be drunk. Sure. Get your finger in there. Obviously. Be sure to have your retinas blasted. Make certain no one is properly in shot.

But for the icing on the cake, as you prepare to take the ultimate bad photo, drop your camera. Drop it right on the ground. Then – and this is very important – as you stumble forward to pick it up, trod on the phone or camera. Put your full weight on it. You’ll want to hear its delicate glass and electronics crunching under foot.

Now hold up your device. Look at it. Inspect it. If it is not functioning, then congratulations. You have taken the worst kind of bad photo. The one that doesn’t even exist.