Lake Nod was one of the many artificial reservoirs created by the TVA during the massive electrification push in the 1930s. Damming up the Soap River, so named because of the soapstone deposits near its now-drowned ford, Lake Nod was named after Joseph Nod, a pioneer in the area whose descendents remained in the area and evern worked on the dam.

Of course they were among the 3500 people displaced by the flooding, but at least they got a steady paycheck for a while. 

The generator machinery was never installed at Lake Nod or the Nod Dam, though. The project was abandoned in 1937 for unclear reasons, although the TVA cited structural concerns and subsidance. It was slated to be demolished before the reservoir finished filling, but the funding for that fell through as well–it was scheduled to begin in late 1941, as it happened.

The TVA put up warning signs, locked the structure, and walked away.

Over the years, Lake Nod began hosting a cottage industry of illegal fishing and boating. Officially both were banned because of structural concerns with the dam, and construction was prohibited downstream out of fear of flooding. But things were built anyway and people came anyway.

The Nod Dam itself became a popular target for urban explorers, representing as it did the rare opportunity to see the inside of a structure that, but for the lack of functioning machinery, was the equal of any other TVA structure. Authorities discouraged this, and people were arrested, but they were lackluster at both pursuits. There simply wasn’t the budget for effective enforcement.

The Interior Universal Investigators of Nashville, the IUI, scheduled a covert tour of the Nod Dam as their spring 2015 urban exploration opener. They entered just after midnight on April 30, 2015.

The first reports of downstream flooding and collapse began reaching the authorities almost exactly 24 hours later on May 1.

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As with any form of human expression, graffiti has undergone the full spectrum of reactions from proscription to embrace by the avant-garde. From the crude tags put up by amateur vandals to the sophisticated pictures that enthusiasts proclaim as “street art,” it is in the public eye as never before. Once might even argue that, with the international success and recognition of graffiti artists like Banksy and Invader, that the form has become respectable, even passé.

Well, it’s at least as true that whenever a form of human expression seems to have said all it can say, when it’s become too comfortable, someone will shake it up.

Urban explorers poking through Detroit’s Michigan Central Station found a sumptuous graffiti tableaux featuring an infant held in an unfolding flower bud. Text ringed it like a picture frame: they were born into a world overgrown/of crumbled walls the rats called home/but beauty springs from any soil/of its own but often with toil. Next to it was another painting, this one an almost photo-realistic picture of a blank wall in a decaying building.

The explorers, struck by what they saw, documented the find online and appealed for help in identifying the location. They soon established that it was the nearby Roosevelt Warehouse, also in Detroit; upon locating the wall depicted in the previous graffiti, they found it bedecked with another painting. This one depicted a small child of ambiguous gender and race wandering through weed-choked ruins and beholding a luminous golden keyhole bedecked with jewels and, impossibly, golden wings.

Its accompanying text: potential is there, in they and you and me/all that’s needed to unlock is the key/but though we know where the keyhole be found/where might a key be when falsehoods abound.

Another near-photographic scene accompanied it, a breadcrumb to the next stage of the story. Before long, the secret had spread well beyond the tiny community of urban explorers in Detroit to encompass a website, where enthusiasts cataloged the location of each new stage of the story and collaborated to decipher the clues as to the next location of the art.

All this independent of the artist, who remained anonymous and unnamed. By the apparent conclusion of their first “story,” fans had taken to calling the artist Breadcrumbs.

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