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Godzilla, Cut from 3,000 Tyres

Toyeeb Ajayi standing beneath a towering Godzilla sculpture assembled from strips and pieces of used tyres.

The first thing to look at is not Godzilla's face but his thighs. They are tiled with bands of tyre tread: chevrons, ribs, worn edges, pieces once designed to grip a road now overlapping like armor. Follow those strips upward and they change jobs. The tread becomes abdominal muscle, chest plate, tendon, scale, and the ridged skin around a roaring mouth. Only then does the height register. A person standing beneath Toyeeb Ajayi's sculpture barely reaches its shin.

Ajayi's Godzilla stands 24 feet tall at the Scrap Art Museum near Ile-Ife, Nigeria. After visiting the workshop in 2024, Babafemi Ojudu reported that its hide was assembled from more than 3,000 pieces cut from motorcycle, bicycle, and truck tyres and held with roughly 6,000 screws. Those numbers explain the visual density. This is not one clever material substitution repeated at giant scale; it is thousands of small decisions about which tread can imitate a rib, where a sidewall will bend, and how a strip of rubber should meet the next one.

Close view of a roaring Godzilla head and chest built from layered brown and black tyre pieces, with red mouth and white teeth.
At the head and chest, repeated arcs of tyre tread become scales, neck plates, and rib-like armor. Credit: Toyeeb Ajayi; photograph via Godzilla-Movies.com. Source

Online, the sculpture is repeatedly described as entirely made from tyres. The photographs make the rubber skin obvious, but a body this large also presents a structural problem, and Ajayi's earlier work offers a more useful clue. An International Institute of Welding catalog documents his 2022 Gorilla as discarded tyres carried by TMT bars, mild-steel plates, and C channels, shaped with electric-arc and plasma-arc welding. The available sources do not itemize Godzilla's internal frame, so it is better to see the creature as both sculpture and fabrication: a carefully built body wearing waste rubber as skin.

Ajayi is a Nigerian sculptor and Auchi Polytechnic graduate who has worked with used tyres and scrap materials for years. Accounts of the practice were circulating by 2016, well before this Godzilla began doing laps around the internet. His workshop context matters too. Ojudu encountered the sculpture at the Scrap Art Museum, a studio founded by scrap-metal artist Dotun Popoola where younger artists also work among piles of material waiting to become something else. In the photographs, the loose tyre offcuts at Godzilla's feet make the workshop look almost like the monster is shedding.

The surface rewards that workshop view. Broad sidewalls wrap the belly in horizontal bands. Narrow tread strips run down the arms like exposed tendons. Small pointed cuts gather into scales across the back, while heavier sections flare into dorsal plates. Tyres arrive with a vocabulary already molded into them—grooves, blocks, lettering, seams—and Ajayi does not sand that history away. He sorts and redirects it. The creature looks reptilian because the material is allowed to keep announcing what it used to be.

Side view of the monumental tyre Godzilla under a metal roof, showing layered scales, dorsal plates, tail, and clawed feet.
The side view reveals how differently cut tread is layered across the thigh, belly, flank, and dorsal plates. Credit: Toyeeb Ajayi; photograph via Godzilla-Movies.com. Source

Godzilla was not Ajayi's first experiment at this scale. In 2022 he took part in an international art symposium in Jajpur, Odisha, India, where 20 invited artists made work from scrap and other reclaimed materials. His Gorilla measured 4.57 meters high, 2.5 meters wide, and two meters deep. The welding catalog places it within conversations about endangered animals, habitat loss, and waste, while also spelling out the industrial reality behind the finished animal. Recycling here involves heavy bars, plate, channels, welding machines, and a great deal of lifting.

Choosing giant animals and movie monsters lets that industrial labor remain visible without turning the work into a diagram. Godzilla is already a creature of catastrophic scale, so the leap from rubber scrap to kaiju feels strangely natural. Tyre tread has the right tough, armored texture; the long strips can read as sinew; the circular origin of the material survives in all those repeated curves. The ecological association is present, but first comes the ridiculous pleasure of seeing a seven-meter monster crouched under a corrugated workshop roof.

That combination of spectacle and environmental argument continued in Kong in a Cage, unveiled by Ecobank Nigeria at its Pan African Centre in Lagos in January 2025. Ajayi described the recycled-material installation as a dialogue about accountability and humanity's relationship with the environment. The cage changes the tone: Kong is still an attraction, but he is also caught inside a structure, turning the familiar beast into an image of nature constrained by human systems. The commission shows how Ajayi's tyre creatures can move from workshop marvels into public, commissioned art without losing their material bluntness.

Low rear view of the tyre Godzilla with two people beside it, surrounded by cut tyre scraps in the workshop yard.
From behind, the figure becomes an index of cuts: sidewalls, tread strips, loops, scales, and broad overlapping plates. Credit: Toyeeb Ajayi; photograph via Godzilla-Movies.com. Source

By late 2025, Ajayi was also on the faculty of FREEE Recycle's art residency, mentoring emerging artists working with rubber, fiber, steel, and other reclaimed materials. That role is a useful counterpoint to the lone-genius story viral images tend to produce. The 24-foot Godzilla may be the object traveling fastest, but it belongs to a wider Nigerian network of artists, museums, recyclers, fabricators, and students testing what discarded material can carry—formally, culturally, and quite literally.

When the Godzilla photographs resurfaced on Reddit in August 2026, commenters repeatedly asked for the artist's name. Others questioned the viral phrase entirely from used tires. Both reactions are worth keeping. Ajayi should not disappear behind the object, and the object's engineering should not disappear behind an easy recycling caption. Look back at the ankle, where several kinds of tread stack into a joint sturdy enough to make a gigantic fictional animal stand. The wonder is not that rubbish somehow became Godzilla. It is that Ajayi made every cut, curve, screw, and support persuade us that it could.

Sources and further looking

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