Gabriel Diamond Evokes Laughter, Tears, Love, SF Style

by Barry David Horwitz

Somehow, I was summoned magically to The Tenderloin Sunday night and ended up at the Fringe Festival at the invitation of Gabriel Diamond who is doing his solo show in honor of his mother—artist, poet, and performer Sandy Diamond.

Sandy Diamond’s story reawakens the times of Alan Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and Peter Orlovsky. Sandy mingled with the Beats, Hippies, Civil Rights and Anti-War activists back when the world was young—in New York, Berkeley, Oakland, San Francisco.

For those who don’t remember, it was the time for protesting the War in Vietnam and occupying People’s Park. We were all tear-gassed by Reagan and the Blue Meanies. Yes, the National Guard descended on Berkeley.

Sandy Diamond evolved in and a part of this angelic turmoil, while raising a son as a single Mom by choice. She was an artist and a rebel from birth, traveling to hotspots of art and poetry and music. She studied art and became a painter and later, a calligrapher, selling her wares at craft fairs. Her book of poems is titled simply “Hunchback.”

Her son Gabriel, dancer, father, filmmaker, has created a unique and moving show where he recounts his life and his mother’s. It turns out that Gabriel embodies a unique definition of a “love child”: Sandy brought him up on a diet of 100% love. There were no prohibitions, no restrictions—she let him be who he wanted to be. And he made the most of it.

Sandy learned not to be afraid of experiment, even perilous ones, after a parent counseled her not to be afraid of the boy’s falling off the monkey bars. Falling was not as bad as being stifled.

After a few film clips from Sandy’s life, Gabriel tells open, loving stories. They make us feel that we know this extraordinary petite woman, who went from art school to painting to calligraphy to performing her poems in a band. They called themselves “Quasimodo and the Bellringers,” up in Port Townsend Washington, and their music survives.

There was no end to her creativity, sliding from one art to the next. When she could no longer paint, she turned to calligraphy. Her art makes words sing again.

They are stunning and timely—art works illuminating elaborate words by Alice B. Toklas, Montaigne, Little Richard, Emily Dickinson, and more. Sandy is an inexhaustible stream of memories and inspiration—her LIFE resonates in her son’s stories and in his final, hypnotic dance in her memory.

Gabriel embodies Sandy’s genius, an amazing trajectory to witness. One comet following another.

If you long for a better time or want to make one, skedaddle over to the Taylor Street Theatre, to the Exit Fringe Festival and partake of this rare and exotic rose, nestled among the thorns of the Tenderloin.

Gabriel’s great gifts of a life well lived await. His relaxed and emotion-filled storytelling fills every audience member with camaraderie and joy. Who could ask for more?

 

“Some Things You Should Know About My Mom” by Gabriel Diamond, at San Francisco Fringe Festival, Taylor Street Theatre, S.F. Info: theexit.org – Saturdays, August 16 & 23, 2025.

Added performance: at The Writer’s Grotto, Sunday, August 24, at 3:30 p.m. Info: writersgrotto.org – along with an art show of Sandy’s work. And surprises!

Cast: Gabriel Diamond

 

Here’s one of Sandy’s poems, performed in the opening film:

                        Small People of America: A Press Conference

                                            Sandy Diamond

Baby carriers & backpacks have got to go.

Small people struck by baby feet & trailmix—

no more short end of the stick!

We don’t blame the little urchins children

are our natural allies, the temporarily short people

of America. We nudge them at spectacles & parades

to cry, Hey, down in front, Mister-we can’t see!

We are not a bunch of complainers.

Lower the door knob! lower the mirrors! the coat rack! the coin slot!

we won’t be shortchanged!

To join us: you can’t be over four-ten—

no bent knees nor slicked-down hair!

Mostly we tell tall people jokes.

No, we’re not allowed to tell them

to non-members.

We are equal one night a month.

We don’t have to look up look up look up.

We look straight into each others’ eyes

& laugh our little heads off.