Purity Already Lost

Nirvana’s sophomore album, Nevermind, depicts a naked baby underwater, reaching blindly for a dollar bill—a disturbing illustration that denotes humanity’s corrupted motivation and greed even at the stage idealistically deemed most innocent (namely, infancy). Like mindless fish swarming to bait, humans are blindly drawn to the dollar, seeking it desperately as sustenance, and ignoring the larger implications—for instance, who is pulling the hook? Is this greed a self-inflicted wound, society as a whole with the line in their hands, or is their something else at work? The image functions logically by offering viewers two focal points—the naked infant and the money on the hook—and asking them to select which one is more disturbing, which one to focus upon. Most note only the baby’s nudity, which caused controversy following the 1991 release. But this nakedness, coupled with the baby’s vulnerability—bare and submerged in an enormous swimming pool—is, in fact, a manifestation of complete, untainted innocence; so starkly natural that society deems it unacceptable. Blinded by this conception, most viewers ignore what’s truly disturbing at hand—the message that even at this young age, there exists this incessant lust for money, this insatiable greed. In presenting this experiment, the image forces viewers to question what we, as a society, will accept and ignore and what extremes we are willing to go to to protect our purity—purity “Nevermind” indicates is already lost to the pursuit of the dollar.

“Nevermind” depicts the terrifying reality of a consumer world that begins even at birth—the baby instinctively choosing to pursue the money, rather than returning to the surface for breathe, a decision that will ultimately destroy. It imparts this reality through fear—through gritty, disgruntling starkness—the juxtaposition of innocence and greed that most do not feel comfortable with, that most would rather not consider.