The most dangerous picture I ever took. Story of a picture.

When I think back, it was definitely reckless of me. Not sure I'd do it again. And yet I took many of those dangerous pics, hanging to a wall of rock, one hand gripping the rope and the other clicking the camera, aiming the best I could, trying not to move too much... Or pictures shot at breast-level, without looking, no aim, trying not to raise some nasty-looking guys' attention, and usually successfully, as you can see -I'm still here, writing those lines.

This one is not about street photography. It has its dangers, not only for the photographers, but for the subjects, who can sometimes get in trouble because of you. Sure, it can be published nowadays, and who knows what can happen when certain regimes start looking online? Well, in this case, I confess I wouldn't mind if those guys got in trouble thanks to me.

Here's the story : back in 2006, I was in Iran. Not the whole year, mind you, a couple of weeks, with my cousin Roland. At some point on the long way, we'd selpt in a caranvanserai. Yes, you read that well, it was one of the 999 Shah Abbas the Great build. Rumor has it that he had built that specific number because 1000 sounded too vague, aproximative, and would be regarded as a legendary figure.

The night had been silent and cold, the desert's breath blowing in our mustaches. We'd woken up without knowing too well where and when we were. But after a hike, some bastards made sure we'd remember where and especially when we were. Bassijis, members of the Hezbollah, storming into the peaceful oasis, demanding a feast from the three old-timers vaguely in charge of maintenance.

Three hairs in the soup : my cousin, our guide, and I. An american, a frenchman, and our iranian guide. And nobody else. Our guide walks up to the bearded hezbollahis, and as expected, things heat up. Funny how I would have played it loooooooow profile, but our guide just won't let go, and stands up and doesn't let go. He argues, snaps back, and in the end turns to us : « They want to see your passports. And they want me to wear a long sleeves shirts and a trouser (he was wearing a wife-beater and shorts). Oh and they don't want you to take any photos. »

Why, by the way? « because there's an ayatollah on his way. He's coming here for lunch and a lecture. ». Woops. A super-mullah. Ayatollahs are only about fifty in the country, according to our guide. Like catholic cardinals. But in this theocracy, they're also in charge of various state matters.

Needless to say the situation is quite tense all of a sudden. SUVs storm in, and more hezbollahis and Bassijis pour out, lots of beards, and hugs, especially when the supreme beard comes out. And a big lot of heavy looks coming our way.

My cousin the photographer is all excitement. He's put all his cameras in plain sight, no Mr. Ayatollah, I'm not taking your precious picture, but he's all WOW!!! DUDE, WE HAVE AN AYATOLLAH!!!

Me, I'm not so psyched. I stay on the blanket, eating sparsely, looking around, sensing the tension. And it's high. None of these guys look like fun. Little by little, they go about their business and stop ogling us. And we do the same, trying haaaaaaaard not to look at them, because, Dude, we have an ayatollah. And so, while the Ayatollah eats and lectures, a few meters from us, I consider the camera right next to me, not quite halfway between the ayatollah and me. It's my camera, a humble compact digital, so small it usually fits in my pocket. And what do you know, it happens to be aimed at the ayatollah. A bite of this, a bite of that, our guide's food is a miracle, and I turn, and looking like I'm not interested, I put my finger on the on/off switch, and then I click and then turn it back off. No checking, no proper aiming, no looking back, one more bite, let's change the subject. My cousin saw me do and can't stop winking and laughing.

Now what would be the consequences? Who knows. Somewhere between a severe argument, a night in a cell and a total disappearance. These guys are no joke, the regime is no joke. Remember what they say? Never take pictures of military, cops, uniforms... Not to mention ayatollahs.

So why in the world did I take it? No idea. Look at it now. It's not even a good picture. I would have done a better job by asking the Beard to pose. It was a dangerous, explicitly forbidden shot, and I'm not a reckless man, according to my own perception and the many recommendations I gave to as many people. Heat of the moment, the fact that those guys were all looking elsewhere... And most important, it was... feasable.

I took it, and moved on.

I never regretted it, although I know I could have had to bitterly regret it.

Artistic mark : 2/10. The colors aren't bad.

Composition : 1/10. The framing is flat. The models aren't in focus.

Geopolitical value : 5/10. Yes, there's an ayatollah, but which one, dammit?

Journalistic value : 3/10. And I'm being kind.

Sentimental value : 10/10 : Clic-clac, gotcha ayatollah!