At first you never notice "Recordface" street art, and then you see it everywhere.

High as 18 feet above the intersection of Meridian and Maryland streets. Low at your feet outside Red Key Tavern. Far as downtown Greensburg. Wide as an interstate "Welcome to Indiana" sign at the Ohio-Indiana border.

About 50 examples of the installation — a vinyl record featuring four guitar-pick "teeth," clumps of cassette-tape "hair" and one red reflector "eye" — have popped up around Indianapolis and beyond.

Who's devoting time and energy to slap this curiosity so many places?

Someone who wants to make your "world a little more interesting," according to an anonymous letter sent to IndyStar.

After a month of trying to learn the story behind "Recordface," I have only this note addressing some of the controversy attached to the project.

By all indications, the artist is the author:

"To some, I will be a unique artist adding a blip in time to make their world a little more interesting. To others, I will be a renegade vandal adding an eyesore to make their world a little more repulsive. I guess that is art."

I have follow-up questions, but chances for an interview are slim.

Even if I don't learn the artist's identity, I'd like to know what he or she calls the work.

"Recordface" is just a nickname I started using two or three years ago, when I saw my first example on the trash enclosure north of a Chipotle at the intersection of Broad Ripple and Winthrop avenues.

Beyond the look of a friendly monster, I gravitated to an MP3 player and earbuds attached to the installation.

A drained battery became my first "Recordface" dead end.

I filed away two questions — Who did this? What's on the MP3 player? — and watched the legend of Recordface grow.

New but identical installations appeared Downtown, on Mass Ave and in Fountain Square. Recordface gathered momentum and became a sensation at the Indianapolis corner of Reddit.

No one had answers. I attempted to crowdsource info through social media, which nudged the artist to mail his or her letter.

Both loved and hated locally, Recordface is a whimsical mystery that has damaged or infringed on the work of sculptors Chakaia Booker and Don Gummer. Not to mention the controversy that comes with tagging private property.

Somewhat amazingly, two installations on Circle Centre mall property have survived for months without being removed.

One Recordface can be seen on the entrance of the mall's underground parking garage along Washington Street.

The second, outside the old Nordstrom site at Meridian and Maryland, brought me back to the idea of trying to solve the Recordface mystery.

I walk by this Recordface daily to get to the IndyStar office, which occupies the other end of the former Nordstrom.

The installation has been there since at least February, and it's amusingly high above pedestrian traffic. The artist first had to reach a flat awning 10 feet above ground, and then stand on the awning to execute his creation.

The high perch of this Recordface makes it special. Plenty of people want to hear what's on the MP3 player — or "Hey, free MP3 player!" — which means most of the 50 installations no longer have players and earbuds attached.

(Which raises the question: Is it ethical to swipe electronics from something that's essentially vandalism itself?)

Back in February, Indianapolis resident Fred Miller risked injury, if not a trespassing charge, to snag the device at Meridian and Maryland.

In a midnight raid, Miller scrambled atop the awning after receiving a foot-in-hand boost from a friend. From there, he stood up and reached to pull the square MP3 player away from earbuds glued to Recordface.

"I’ve always wanted to hear what’s on it,” said Miller, a 27-year-old who works in email design and development and plays keyboards and sings in a rock band.

Thanks to Miller, who shared MP3 files at the Indianapolis subreddit, I know Recordface's audio is electronic music presumably made by the artist. Miller discovered the same music and song titles on a second Recordface MP3 player he found at Art Bank Gallery on Massachusetts Avenue.

The nine songs: "Money," "Trip," "Poet or a Fool," "Beauty 82," "Juan," "Monster Truck," "Just You," "Thank God" and "Mrs. Bruer."

"Juan" borrows the signature riff of Beethoven's "Symphony No. 5." "Just You" deconstructs a song from David Lynch and Mark Frost's "Twin Peaks" TV series. "Monster Truck" quotes a song from Lynch's "Eraserhead" film. "Poet or a Fool" samples the Smiths' "This Night Has Opened My Eyes." And "Thank God" includes spoken-word excerpts from the 31st chapter of Psalms.

Three weeks ago, Indianapolis resident Adrienne Hirsch collected a Recordface MP3 player with the same songs near the intersection of 52nd Street and Keystone Avenue. Her verdict? "Decently produced" songs reminiscent of found-sound producer DJ Shadow and experimental rock band My Bloody Valentine.

It's safe to estimate the artist has spent about $10 on each Recordface installation, or $500 overall. The MP3 player and earbuds, a "Metal Clip" model sold at Amazon.com for $6.55, rank as the big-ticket item. Cassette-tape "hair," a white-tape "headband," reflector "eye" and guitar-pick "teeth" are attached to the vinyl record.

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Oh, right, the artist also has to buy adhesive to make the installation stick, which is the crux of why Recordface has its detractors.

Whether the artist uses caulk, Liquid Nails or something else, it's apparently strong stuff.

Mindy Taylor Ross, a curator of high-profile projects as owner of Art Strategies, said a hammer and chisel were needed to break Recordface off the base of a Don Gummer sculpture temporarily displayed on Monument Circle.

Ross also oversaw the installation of a Chakaia Booker sculpture at Washington and Pennsylvania streets to celebrate the 100th running of the Indianapolis 500. You guessed it. Recordface found its way onto the sculpture's base.

A degree of vandalism is part of every Recordface installation. Ross finds the targeting of the Gummer and Booker sculptures to be especially egregious because it damages other people’s creative expressions.

"To me, that really crosses the line," she said.

Recordface has been seen on the side of the Slippery Noodle Inn, the WFYI parkage garage and the Vogue nightclub.

In the artist's letter, he or she apologizes for the sticky residue and says a switch has been made:

"If I had the opportunity to do this project over and start from the beginning, I would use the much easier to remove mounting tape strips that I switched to many months ago."

In the context of graffiti and "guerrilla art," Recordface falls within a tradition of bold self-expression. The Indianapolis Museum of Art recently launched “City as Canvas,” a four-month exhibition that celebrates New York City graffiti from the 1970s and ‘80s.

For Ross, previously public art director for the Arts Council of Indianapolis, a city filled with underground creativity is something to strive for.

"In theory, I get it," she said of Recordface. "Is this person demonstrating that our city doesn’t have enough platforms for artists? Is this a reflection of somebody who feels powerless or outside of the power structure?"

If Recordface inspires mixed feelings, also know the artist targeted a homegrown classic: the 38-foot Kurt Vonnegut mural on the side of the Massala Building on Massachusetts Avenue.

Artist Pamela Bliss, commissioned to paint Vonnegut before Indianapolis hosted the Super Bowl in 2012, encountered a Recordface when she revisited her piece for touch-up work last fall.

She assumes the Recordface artist stood on a car to place an installation about 10 feet up the wall and near one of Vonnegut's legs.

"I wasn’t too happy about it," Bliss said. "They didn’t damage the painting itself. But they were trying to make (Recordface) part of it, which changes the mural."

Bliss also doesn't love the aesthetics of Recordface, otherwise known on the internet as "Vinyl Head" and "Black Vinyl."

"I don’t know what the point of the art is," Bliss said. "If it were exceptional, then I would say, ‘It’s kind of cool.’ "

Miller, a member of the band Saint Aubin, critiques Recordface's visuals as "juvenile." Likely to be mistaken for a Banksy? No way.

"No one’s going to cut down a wall and throw that in a museum," he said.

Even so, Recordface has its fans.

Rebecca Jones, who studied textile art at Indiana University, first saw Recordface while hiking in Skiles Test Nature Park near the intersection of I-69 and I-465.

"I think it adds character to the city, and I hope someday we can solve the mystery of who’s doing it," Jones said. "And I hope they don’t get in trouble."

In the letter, the artist writes:

"I do want people to know my intentions are respectful, passionate and coming from a desire to mix street art, music and Indiana geography."

Miller said he's fascinated by the ephemeral nature of the MP3 players.

"I think the goal of this artist is to affect people in some way," Miller said. "Give a reward or prize to people who happen to find it at the right time."

And I'm puzzled by the artist's idea of making anonymous music with no way to be credited, promoted or paid.

“They’re just being weird, and more power to them," Jones said.

Call IndyStar reporter David Lindquist at (317) 444-6404. Follow him on Twitter: @317Lindquist.