Around the Fur

The image is built entirely on its lens. A fisheye, aimed down over Hughes' head, bends the whole scene into a shallow bowl so that her upturned face swells toward the viewer while her body tapers away below. That single choice does the heavy lifting: the angle is one no ordinary onlooker could occupy, and it reads as voyeuristic and slightly claustrophobic, as if we are leaning in far too close. The eye lands first on her face, then slides down the curved central axis of her body to the base of the frame, following the distortion the lens imposes.

Colour and light reinforce the intimacy. The tones are warm and close, lit by what looks like night-time poolside light, skin catching a sheen of water. Against the typically aggressive, cold imagery of 1990s metal sleeves, this reads as unexpectedly sensual and vulnerable, a match for music that pairs heaviness with melody. There is nothing menacing in the picture; the discomfort comes from proximity, not violence.

The photograph keeps its imperfections rather than hiding them, and these become part of the reading. A visible blemish on Hughes' chest, the glass of Silk Panties resting nearby, the hard edge of the hot tub, and a pair of pale bare feet intruding into the corner all sit undisturbed in the frame. The feet in particular puncture any illusion of a staged glamour shot: someone else is standing just out of view, and we are seeing a real, unposed moment. That refusal to airbrush is what gives the image its raw, unpolished authenticity.

Typography floats over the top of the scene in a soft, lowercase blue script, "deftones" large with "around the fur" set smaller beside it. The cool blue lettering plays against the warm flesh tones beneath, and its lower-case gentleness undercuts the genre's usual jagged logos, echoing the cover's overall softness. In the bottom-left corner the black-and-white Parental Advisory box sits as a blunt rectangle of officialdom against the organic curve of the body, a small collision of the illicit and the administrative. Low in the frame a small floral tattoo is just legible on her skin, another human, incidental detail the crop lets slip through.

Scale and cropping tighten everything: the fisheye pulls the edges of the world in around her, leaving little negative space and forcing intimacy. Taken together, the composition turns a chance afterparty snapshot into something surreal and dreamlike, drawing the viewer down into a private moment they were never meant to witness. Its power is precisely that it looks unstaged, sensual without being triumphant, and off-balance in a way that stays under the skin.

The photograph came out of the sessions for Deftones' second album, which the Sacramento band recorded in the spring and summer of 1997 at Stone Gossard's Studio Litho in Seattle for Maverick Records. Their process spilled beyond the studio: they rented a nearby condo where they lived and partied through the recording, and singer Chino Moreno later characterised this as the band's wild phase, full of nonstop partying, bar-hopping and bringing people back to the condo for late-night jacuzzi sessions.

The photographer was Rick Kosick, who had built his reputation at the skateboard magazine Big Brother and later became a cameraman on MTV's Jackass. Moreno and guitarist Stephen Carpenter, fans of his skate photography, invited him to Seattle to document the sessions. During one of the after-hours parties, following the usual bar-hopping routine, Kosick spotted a woman relaxing by the jacuzzi. She was Lisa Hughes, a local from Auburn who frequented the Seattle nightlife scene and had ended up at the condo through friends; a friend of Carpenter's, she genuinely did not know who the band were and was simply enjoying herself, sipping a Silk Panties made of vodka and peach schnapps. With no intention of making album art, Kosick took just two quick frames with his fisheye lens and walked away.

Weeks later Maverick called him into their offices. Art director and designer Kevin Reagan had spread potential cover concepts across a table, and when the label team saw them, everybody immediately pointed to the jacuzzi photograph. Reagan was struck by its raw authenticity and unsettling intimacy, describing it as an eye-opener that crept under your skin and made him uncomfortable in the best way. Crucially, he chose to leave the photograph largely untouched, preserving the blemish on Hughes' chest and Kosick's own feet in the frame rather than retouching them. The album was released in October 1997.

When the album arrived, the cover immediately sparked controversy and speculation. Some fans and critics wondered about Hughes' identity, and unfounded rumours spread that she was a groupie. She has consistently dismissed this, stressing that she was a local woman having fun with friends and unaware her likeness would even be used. That persistent gossip became part of the image's ongoing narrative.

The photograph also travelled beyond the album. Related releases drew on Kosick's other frames from the sessions, a pool table shot appearing on a promo cassette and in the liner notes and a microphone photo used for the "My Own Summer" single, while the cover itself was reused for that single and then turned sideways and tinted blue for "Be Quiet and Drive."

The album reached platinum status and is regarded as a turning point for alternative metal, with bands like Nothing and Deafheaven carrying on its blend of shoegaze and metal and acts from CHVRCHES to Suicide Silence acknowledging the influence. The cover kept pace, appearing on merchandise and posters and being repeatedly analysed. NME has called it one of the most iconic album covers of the 90s, Consequence describes the sleeve as some of the most iconic artwork of the decade, and Revolver argues the fisheye close-up lingers even more than the singles.

Moreno remains conflicted, calling the artwork horrible, partly because the married band members being photographed in a hot tub with women was a bad look, and marvelling that it became so recognisable despite his feelings. Retrospective interest has stayed strong: Loudwire revisited Hughes among famous cover subjects, she was interviewed 20 years on, and in January 2026 Jenkem tracked down both Hughes and Kosick nearly 28 years later, with Revolver framing the renewed attention within the band's TikTok virality and arena tours. Hughes, who signs copies for fans, now reflects positively, taking ownership of the shot as a pretty cool looking image of her enjoying her twenties.