Ocean Beach goes full crop circle at this massive sand art gathering
For one afternoon, Ocean Beach became a gallery for raked masterpieces in San Francisco — then the waves took it all away.
By Courtney Muro
The vantage point from the Cliff House is typically pretty banal, showing endless volleyball nets and some fog. But the vibe last Saturday was crop circle. A mass of people congregated on the beach with rakes in hand, creating some of the best and most organized sand art I’ve ever seen.
It looked like TikTok-famous 2024 aliens had ditched the cornfields in 2025 to gentrify Ocean Beach — upgrading the coarse, unkempt sand with sprawling geometric patterns. Spirals, peace signs, and sunrays stretched across the shore, anchored by a simple message: “Be Kind.” Beachgoers wove through the designs, careful but inevitably disruptive, because this was art meant to be temporary.
As I walked down to the beach I was greeted by a 10-year-old with the presence of an established 40-somethings man — a level of maturity that I have yet to see in the tech bro culture that runs this city.
“Can I help you, are you here for the event?” asked Kavi Amador. I told the young usher that I was looking for the person in charge and he pointed to his father, Andrés Amador. Stepping carefully to avoid ruining anyone’s life’s work, I made my way over to Amador. “Sorry…”
I utilized all my body language capacity to express how bad I felt for stepping on a meticulously-crafted sand drawing of sun rays as I approached him. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” he shrugged off my concern for the permanence of the artwork.
Amador is the prototype of the San Franciscan hippie who begrudgingly dabbled in tech — just enough to know he despises it. Twenty-five years ago, after studying Environmental Science and doing a Peace Corps stint in Ecuador, he was working at the IT department of a national bank (“hating every second of it”). At this same time he was also getting into the Burning Man scene and obsessing over geometry and crop circles.
“Burning man saved me by giving me permission to explore my creative side in a much deeper way than I had ever before allowed myself. It was my geometry and crop circle interest that gave me the realization of what was possible at the beach,” he told me.
He began creating massive beach artwork pieces in 2004; some spanning over 100,000 feet (here is a photo of his largest artwork ever). Today, he runs the annual Giant Sand Art-Making Party on Ocean Beach, along with his son, who has been a traveling artist assistant to his dad since he was old enough to hold his head up.
I asked Kavi if he likes working with his dad. “It’s kind of fun just talking. I was nervous, and it might not be my favorite thing to do on the beach. But I think I’m enjoying myself,” he said. I asked if he gets a lot of compliments on his notably mature etiquette. “Like, 3 or 4 people,” he replied casually.
This iteration of the sand art party has been going on sporadically since 2014, but Amador has plans to scale up. While it’s no Coachella, people seem to really like coming together for this event. The energy was calm, and present. I stopped at one of the more prominent designs — a giant seashell with swirls and patterns stretched around it and toward the water. Next to it was a less legible pattern — abstract, maybe. I asked the two Gen Z girls raking in and around it if they were working together or separately.
“We started separate but they’re kind of converging,” one of them laughed. “So, what happens next?” I asked. The other girl shrugged and smiled. “We keep making art.”
Sand parties are not uncommon on Ocean Beach, but they usually have a wilder vibe than Amador’s event last Satuday. Last October, Leap Arts in Education held their 42nd Annual Sandcastle Classic — Northern California’s largest sandcastle contest — on this dusty waterfront. The theme was “Out of This World,” and included UFO’s, aliens, and other extraterrestrial aspects in their giant sandcastle design. The event fostered a unique collaboration between architects, engineers, designers, and local elementary school students.
Earlier in the year The Bold Italic covered the “Hole Party,” a San Francisco Ocean Beach tradition where people gather to dig a large hole — “and everyone is invited.” The hole is filled in at the end of the party; I assume so that no one falls into it and dies.
And, as any salty-haired San Franciscan knows, this stretch of beach is the city’s last holdout for bonfires. This means Burning Man-esque gatherings pop up throughout the year, adding to the chaotic but communal energy. For a place so relentlessly cold and fiercely windy, Ocean Beach stays busy. It’s honestly quite a happening beach given that the climate is fucking inhospitable.
irene.
If it’s not the weather that brings people here, then it must be the camaraderie; and Amador’s knack for gathering people together was evident at the Giant Sand Art-Making Party. It was a free event, capped at 200, but exceeded its capacity. He does corporate team-building events with companies like Google, Genentech, and Asana, and I imagine this interactive, nature-based art is a rare type of offsite in this tech-dominated city.
There’s a certain ephemeral beauty in sand art. Taking the time to create something you know is going to vanish with the tide is an exercise in relenting to impermanence, and I’m surprised these tech companies want their employees going anywhere near this ethos when their whole business model is about relentless growth and beating out the competition.
The ever-evolving Earthscape Art series is meant to be shared, but only during low tide. Amador will be doing another public art gathering on April 19th. You can register here if you’d like to practice mindfulness, acquiesce to impermanence, or just have a good time making sand art at the beach.
Courtney Muro is a San Francisco-based content strategist, producer, designer, and creator.
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