This article was first published in March 2010.
Scattered throughout the roadways and crosswalks of more than two dozen cities in the United States and South America are hundreds of mysterious homemade tiles arranged jigsaw style bearing the cryptic message, “Toynbee Idea: In Kubrick’s 2001, Resurrect Dead on Planet Jupiter” in varied styles. This cryptic message seems to form some strange connection between Stanley Kubrick’s movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey, based on Arthur C. Clarke’s short story “The Sentinel,” and the ideas of historian Arnold Joseph Toynbee. Toynbee was a British author whose works examined the rise and fall of civilizations.
These colorful pieces of modern art are usually no larger than a license plate and lie flush with the surface of the pavement. A few of these tiles also feature cryptic political statements or urge readers to create and plant similar tiles of their own. They vary in color and arrangement and are all made of an unidentifiable hard substance, and many had footnotes as strange as the message itself, such as “Murder every journalist, I beg you,” and “Submit. Obey.” Some of the tiles contained lengthy, paranoid rants about the news media, Jews, and the Mafia.
Although identifying the locations and photographing these Toynbee tiles has become an Internet obsession, I know of only three locations in Indiana where these mysterious tiles have appeared. One set of these tiles is embedded in the cross-walk at the intersection of Meridian and Maryland streets in Indianapolis (across from the Hard Rock Café) and another rests in the crosswalk at 9th St. and Logan Street in Noblesville. At one time, there was a set of tiles at the intersection of Meridian and Georgia but it was destroyed by city employees installing new sewers in 2005. The picture in this article is all the evidence that remains of that tile. Interestingly, this lost tile contained the cryptic message: “You must make + glue tile!! You!! A.J. Media U.S.S.R.” as a postscript.
These tiles are perhaps best described as somewhat of an urban crop circle phenomenon since they first began to appear around 1983. The Geocaching community has taken a keen interest in the tiles, further fueling the quest to discover new Toynbee tiles by these modern day urban techno hikers. At last count, over 150 tiles have been found in the U.S. and 3 in South America. This figure includes tiles that have been paved over, vandalized or removed. The only evidence of these lost tiles are the photos found on the many sites found on the Internet devoted to the “Toynbee Tiles.”
The explanation for the tiles, as well as the speculation as to their authorship, seems to be as elusive as the message the tiles contain. Many theories have been advanced as to who might have authored them, but no one has yet been able to conclusively identify their creator. Many believe it was Philadelphia social worker James Morasco, who tirelessly advanced his theory that Jupiter might be populated by the dead until his own death in 2003.
A tile found in Chile contained an address in Philadelphia. However when the residents were contacted after the tile surfaced, no one at the address had ever heard of the tiles. The romantic theory of some Toynbee tile enthusiasts is that the tiles were all created by one man. However, most believe that the widespread distribution of Toynbee tiles precludes the possibility of a single creator. The most logical theory is that the initial tiles found in Philadelphia and New York City were created by a single individual, but later the underground tile “tagging” community picked up the slack in an effort to continue the enigmatic practice as an urban legend.
Historically, the tiles have all been found embedded in the asphalt paving, mostly near corners and crosswalks. Displaying a flash of creative genius, the tiles appear to be made of asphalt-backed linoleum with the words carved into it making it look like some deranged ransom note. The tile is disguised by a tar paper wrapper which is expertly laid into the soft street bed. Over time, cars drive over the tile and their tires wear away the tar paper, gradually revealing the message beneath.
Philadelphia filmmaker Justin Duerr, who produced an independent documentary on the mysterious tiles called “Resurrect the Dead,” described stumbling over a freshly placed tile on a street in Philadelphia’s Chinatown neighborhood at 4 a.m., which is interesting because Philly is generally acknowledged as the birthplace of the Toynbee tile phenomenon and home to an estimated 60 of the tiles. He described the tile’s appearance as constructed of “hand-cut linoleum pieces, asphalt crack filler and a wood glue-like substance between sheets of tar paper.” It was immediately evident to the witness that the weight of traffic over time pressed the tile into the pavement, leaving only the message once the tar paper wore away.
Inevitably, the Toynbee tiles will become a thing of the past, slowly crumbling away by the passage of car tires. The only evidence of their existence will be photographs and stories such as this one and others found on the World Wide Web. Personally, regardless of the fate of the mysterious tiles, I believe that the tiling method will live on as a unique way of getting a message to pedestrians and bicyclists. One need only venture to Indiana University in Bloomington to see a variation of the Toynbee tile phenomenon in daily use. It seems like every sidewalk in B-town has a message written in chalk about upcoming events or social causes aimed at the students who are routinely seen on campus byways walking with their heads down dutifully searching for this informational exchange.
Copycat tiles, known as the “House of Hades” tiles, have recently surfaced in the Buffalo, New York area and will most assuredly spread rapidly across the east coast. As yet, no one has claimed credit for them. But there can be little doubt that these tiles are just the first wave of “new age” graffiti.
I recall the first time I saw one of these tiles peeking out from the coal black pavement in Noblesville a while back. It was in the crosswalk, across the street from a couple of antique malls I visit from time to time. The street near the town square is not really that busy, allowing me time to stop and study the curious tile for more than a few moments. I thought to myself: “Uhhhhh. What?” as I slowly walked away — a reaction I suspect I share with most people when they see the sign.
I wondered if this strange looking creation might fall into the category of urban vandalism. For the remainder of the day, I found myself considering the question, is it vandalism? The Toynbee tiles are no different than spray-painted graffiti seen on public and private buildings all over the urban landscape. True, the tiles do not belong on these street corners, but there they are, in place without anyone’s permission. I touched the letters with my fingers to find that they are flush to the street, posing no threat to vehicles or pedestrians. So, strictly speaking, they do fit the textbook definition of vandalism and one of our sister cities, Chicago, has come out to call them exactly that. The Windy City has declared war on Toynbee tiles, removing them wherever and whenever they are found.
Is it art? Yes, but only if you can get past that vandalism part. I suspect that no one over the age of 50 will ever be comfortable with this style of guerilla art. Those of us that grew up with Jackson Pollack, Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein might be more tolerant of the medium. To categorize Toynbee tiles as graffiti is a disservice in my opinion. Graffiti evokes images of gangs, territory and fear among most citizens and I count myself among those who have painted over graffiti on my family home in the past. But it cannot be denied that many of our most revered artists started out as graffiti artists, including the legendary Keith Haring. Beauty, after all, is in the eye of the beholder.
Lastly, does the Toynbee tiles as vandalism or art question really matter? No. But it sure is interesting.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest books are “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View,” “Irvington Haunts. The Tour Guide,” and “The Mystery of the H.H. Holmes Collection.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
