In 1971, at a meeting in Jerusalem, the city council members were up in arms.

But they were not shouting about the budget or tax increases or policing.

They were voting on a playground, specifically they were voting on whether to build a giant

climbable sculpture.

And this sculpture, this thing, was weird.

It was going to have this heaving black and white blob for a body, with two mismatched

eyes, one in a star shape, the other just staring off into space, and sticking out of this

enormous blob's mouth would be three bright red tongues, which would double as slides.

The sculpture would be called golem.

And frankly, the city council members were worried it was going to scare the crap out

of the local kids.

So the designer of the sculpture appeared in front of the commission.

She was there to defend her idea.

She said sure, the golem might be a little weird, a little creepy, but it is good for kids

to get a little freaked out, as long as it's in a safe environment.

Maybe the golem could help the kids conquer their fears, transform something weird and creepy

into something joyous and playful.

I'm Dylan Therese and this is Atlas Obscure On.

A celebration of the world's strange, incredible, and wondrous places.

Today, we peek into the life and work of the artist behind this strange playground sculpture,

Nikki DeSaint-Fault.

She was such an important part of avant-garde circles, incredibly radical, so exciting, and

...