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Award-winning photojournalist Peggy Peattie tells the stories of the nation's unhoused
Born in Denver, Benito, 59, was injured while on patrol in Iraq in 1983. After finding himself homeless after a failed marriage and the death of his second wife, who overdosed on heroin, he became a welder and lived in an SRO in downtown San Diego. Failing eyesight cost him that job and his housing but forced him to quit drugs and re-focus on his colorful sketch art. He met his current wife, Karen, around the same time. They live in a tent on an overpass close to downtown.
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Award-winning photojournalist Peggy Peattie has been telling the stories of the nation’s unhoused for more than 30 years, many of them here in town, where she teaches journalism at City College and San Diego State University.
“I have met healthcare professionals, teachers, artists, authors, skilled craftsmen and women, decorated war veterans, chefs, landscape designers, musicians, and entrepreneurs. For these artists, the motivation to paint, sing, draw, write, make jewelry or pottery or medicine bags brings them joy and elevates their existence above the demands of daily survival,” Peattie explains.
Artwork by Benito
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Unsurprisingly, what that looks like for people who are experiencing homelessness is a bit different: they don’t always have access to new or good supplies, requiring that much more resourcefulness and creativity, and, frequently, whatever supplies are amassed are stolen or lost to homeless sweeps conducted by the city.
Peattie says, “I hope these portraits remind readers of the importance of creativity and invites us all to stop and talk with the person living in a tent on the sidewalk we typically walk right past.”
More detail about these artists and the lives of many other unhoused San Diegans can be found on Peggy’s website, talesofthestreet.com.
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Henry, who lives in Balboa Park with his dog, Lulu, uses all sorts of different materials to paint and draw his creations. “In the ʼ90s, I met a lady who had been in a concentration. camp. She had old art of hers, and while in the camp, she used a feather to paint. So I learned that from her,” he explains. As a rule, Henry uses both hands, sometimes at once, just to see what kind of new textures and lines he can uncover.
Artwork by Henry
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Artwork by Henry
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Ceramicist Tad, who sells his wares every day in OB next to the beach with his pup in tow, lives in his van. Recently, he made a stunning string necklace of “teeth” sculpted from clay interspersed with quartz, crystal beads, and oxidized hematite bands.
Artwork by Tad
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Casper, 46, grew up in East L.A. and learned to draw by watching a friend of his mother’s paint murals. He doesn’t like spray paint – only pen and paper. “Everybody that I grew up with that was a mother figure to me is gone. If you grew up in the barrio, [it will] claim you at some point,” he says. He draws mostly women, including the Virgen de Guadalupe, because “women run everything. They’ve got their shit together.”
Artwork by Casper
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Jewelry maker Turtle uses wrapping techniques, working with “pure” elements like copper, crystals, and stones – he won’t use fake materials, saying it “despiritualizes” his work. “I can’t do that,” he says. “It’s just wrong. There’s a better way.” He gives much of what he makes as gifts – talismans to ward off evil on the streets.
Artwork by Turtle
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Mobyte, who is originally from Georgia, lives in a tent with his wife, Amy, downtown. They met at a Vegas bus stop. The next day, they stopped overnight at a motel, where he started singing. She videotaped him, and they’ve been together ever since. He wants to make a living with his music.
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Lorenzo is finishing up his final year at SDSU, after which, he hopes to start a community-oriented art gallery. He taught himself to paint during Covid, while at first bedding down with his parents in Imperial Beach. He lives in a house with roommates near campus these days but has been previously on the margins of having secure housing. He admits he doesn’t know what the future holds, especially with “how expensive everything has become.”
Artwork by Lorenzo
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Originally from New York, Daniel came to San Diego following a string of unsuccessful romantic relationships, because his sister lives and works in Chula Vista. Recently, he has been painting landscapes, Japanese swords, samurai, and traditional Japanese women’s clothing–he likes the 1700s-era Japanese wood carvings and the craftsmanship and dedication to perfection they require.
Artwork by Daniel
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Artwork by Daniel
Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Patrick makes medicine bags, quilts, and jewelry. He spent 24 years as a caseworker for both adults and youth experiencing homelessness in San Francisco but was forced out of his job during Covid, so he’s living here in his van and selling his artwork in OB. He says, “I want my art to outlast me when I’m gone. My art is my fossil footprint.”
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Photo Credit: Peggy Peattie
Voices of Our City Choir member Patricia performed the spoken word section of the choir’s America’s Got Talent audition back in 2020, becoming an instant internet sensation. A week later, she found affordable housing, thanks to the San Diego Housing Commission and the efforts of the choir.
The artist and graphic designer whose collaborations include Daddy Yankee & San Diego FC shares his favorite local haunts
Scenes from the border crossing, lowriders, the Coronado Bridge—many of the motifs featured prominently in artist and designer Richie Moon’s work come from his lifelong roots in South San Diego, particularly Imperial Beach. “I’ve been here since I was in kindergarten,” he says.
His love for South Bay is one he wishes more people shared. “It’s somewhere that’s constantly overlooked,” he says. “But South San Diego is the heart of San Diego.” Because the area offers so much, it was hard for Moon to pin down just a few ways to spend the day in the area—but he somehow managed.
To start a morning off right, Moon heads to Home Coffee in National City. The bright, airy space has plenty of room to work alone or chill with friends, making it a hub for the community that’s easily accessible off the 805 and 54 freeways. Plus, a set of outdoor swings are sure to bring out the kid in anyone. “I prefer it to Starbucks,” Moon laughs, recommending the Tahitian vanilla latte.

Moon says he’s had the same barber, Ray Muñoz, since high school. “Initially, he started cutting hair out of his garage then moved into shops,” he recalls. “I got to see his journey, and for him to live his dream is pretty cool.” Moon now visits him at Exclusive Cuts Barber Shop, the spot Muñoz owns in Imperial Beach.
After a fresh trim, Moon hits San Diego Kabob Shack in Chula Vista for a chicken kebab plate or Poke Etc. in National City for spicy mayo ahi tuna. As someone who focuses on eating healthy, Moon says both options hit the spot, especially after a workout.

To unwind, Moon points to Thr3e Punk Ales in Chula Vista. “I don’t drink too much, honestly, but I have a great relationship with the owners,” he says. “If I do ever crave a drink every now and then, I prefer to go there.” Moon says he reaches for lighter beers like Mexican lagers, but pretty much anything coming out of the brewhouse promises to satisfy.
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
Following a pandemic-canceled tour with Tegan and Sara, Chula Vista's Jackie Mendoza is set to release her uniquely blended sound
Jackie Mendoza’s bilingual sound is growing more versatile. Not pictured: her ukulele.
Credit: Tayo Oyekan
In high school, Jackie Mendoza dreamed of seeing her name on a Broadway marquee. The Chula Vista native took drama class, starred in junior theater productions, and developed her love of music first through musicals. But it wasn’t until after briefly entertaining a theater major in college—then realizing how rigorous and unglamorous a career it really is—that she came to the epiphany that maybe writing and recording her own music was a much more compelling path.
“Once you start doing it professionally, it becomes really intense, and it’s not fun anymore,” she says via a Zoom call from Ohio, where she’s been spending a month taking an audio engineering course. “It was a lot of pressure, and the thing I like to do the most is sing and perform, so I started writing more of my own music.”
As a teenager in Chula Vista, Mendoza took up the ukulele and posted covers to YouTube, eventually learning to use music production software Ableton. She moved to New York City for college and joined the indie rock band Gingerlys, which later morphed into Lunarette—both of which released records through San Diego-based label Topshelf. “I played music in my bedroom,” she says, “but that was the extent of my music life. When I joined [Gingerlys], we played in Brooklyn and would do tours on the East Coast. That was my intro to playing shows.”
While she was playing in those bands, however, she also began to cultivate her own songwriting voice. In 2019, she released the LuvHz EP, which built up a steady stream of accolades and eventually resulted in a tour booked with alt-rock twin-sister duo Tegan and Sara. (Unfortunately, the tour had to be canceled on account of the pandemic.)
After living in Brooklyn for the better part of a decade, Mendoza fell in love with her hometown again and moved back to San Diego where she wrote her debut full-length album, set to be released in early 2023. Loosely speaking, the style of music that Mendoza plays is pop, shaped by the sound of pulsing beats and dreamy electronics. It also features lyrics in both English and Spanish; Mendoza lived in Tijuana until she was six and grew up in a bilingual household.
The X-factor in Mendoza’s sound is her unconventional choice of instruments. She plays a ukulele, which is fed through effects (often sounding unrecognizable), and therefore detached from some of its more precious connotations. She took up the instrument because, as she admits, she was “really bad at the guitar.” But soon enough, she found more to explore through an increasingly manipulated uke.
“I realized I could get a ukulele and buy pedals and effects and play it that way,” she says. “That kind of just started defining my music, because I had never seen that done before.”
Mendoza’s influences and musical direction keep changing as she continues to write and record, her sound growing ever more versatile. With her debut album on the way, she’ll have a new opportunity to showcase the full spectrum of music that she loves.
“It’s music that I really like to listen to,” she says. “I like pop, and I like reggaetón. I like trap music. I like electronic, psych rock—I wanted to put all of that together and tell my story through music. It’s a blend of all the music I like to listen to.”
There’s also one other crucial element she notes: “It has a little of that showtunes touch.”
Jackie Mendoza plays the Escorted Trips festival at the WorldBeat Cultural Center on Saturday, December 3.
Jeff Terich is the music critic behind the blog The Setlist. His writing has been published in Stereogum, Bandcamp Daily, American Songwriter, Fodor's and Vinyl Me Please.
No gatekeepers, no creative rules, no perfect definition—the city’s DIY publishing scene makes room for anyone with something to say.
If magazines are like the adultier eldest daughters who know exactly how much anarchy they can get away with, zines are the far less predictable younger siblings going on whim and instinct. Those who draw on the walls around the house, DIY their own piercings, and experiment with different emo/straight-edge/back to emo phases (or not-phases). Boundaries and routines are what zines were created to rail against.
Walk into Verbatim Books’ zine corner, and this rebellion is immediately clear. Zines have no singular form, no clean category or definition. Vintage magazine scraps are collaged into new meaning alongside mini fandom zines. Single sheets of plain white printer paper are covered in nothing but black ballpoint pen. Repurposed hardback book covers are folded into something entirely new. Some are duct-taped together, others stapled. Some glossy, others matte. There are guides to anything and everything, comic panels, photography, hand-drawn cartoons, poetry, recipes, diaries, and ramblings that only make sense to the person who made them—and that’s on purpose.
Zines are creative magic. And with no rules, they’re incredibly accessible. Anyone can zine and have a voice, regardless of artistic training or work life experience.
You are your own Anna Wintour, Graydon Carter, Ruth Whitney.
San Diego–based zine creator Lyssette Williams specializes in mini zines—often limited to eight pages, they’re meditations in abbreviation. Outlining, thumbnailing, and revision all move quickly from idea to page. Larger projects, including Williams’ long-form graphic novel thesis, move at a slower pace. For those, she often returns to pen and ink, a choice that resists the over-editability of digital work.
Raised by a single mother and navigating mixed-race identity in a predominantly white town, she finds a home for processing it all in zines. Her work deals in identity, belonging, self-definition, and punk-rock childhood. But it isn’t always heavy; Williams creates a mini duck-themed zine called Backyard Duck Propaganda that’s hard not to love. “When I create, I think about what would have helped me find the words back then, what my younger self would’ve needed,” Williams says. “[Zines] put the tools in your hands and democratize art. They’re translations of memories and identities.”

For Williams, a big reason she keeps creating is being surrounded by other creatives—a scene that extends across the border. She points to Verbatim and Comicbook Artists of San Diego, plus events like Zine Fest (October 17–18 this year at Woo in Barrio Logan) and Black Comix Day at the WorldBeat Cultural Center.
Zines have always been a road for subcultures. During the Harlem Renaissance, Black creatives like Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston self-published one issue of Fire!!, which inspired other Black authors. In the 1930s, zines (then called fanzines) were hubs for sci-fi nerds to write fanfiction, address the fandom, and create new characters. Superman actually made his public debut in a fanzine called Science Fiction (he was originally cast as a villain with a fully receded hairline). A couple decades later, zines about feminism and riot grrrl became subculture de rigueur.
The internet nearly killed zines, of course. But now, people tired of the algorithm’s firehose are finding comfort and renewed inspiration in analog. Zines, a salve for digital fatigue.

A giant figure in San Diego zine culture is Burn All Books. Founded by Amanda and Nick Bernal, BAB started as a risograph (digital screen printing) studio and turned into one of those places that keeps expanding the whole scene around it, even forming its own archive group, SCANNNERS. Since opening in January 2023, it has published over 35 works and collaborated with more than 100 artists, writers, and zinesters.
For Duophobia, the pseudonym for local twin sisters Alora and Kiani Dotson (affectionately known as the “possum twins”), zines make room for experimentation and play that doesn’t fit anywhere else. Room for eclectic cartoons and dirty jokes. For sticker-covered sketchbooks.
It’s that same brand of nostalgia you might feel when, say, you walk past the carcass of an abandoned mall and see a faded cartoon mural. Their work lives somewhere between childhood and adulthood, where being unserious is taken very, very seriously.
“We’re born and raised in San Diego, and the community of artists here is a main reason we started publishing,” Kiani Dotson says. “There are people here like Trixxie Land who run open art gatherings. Show up, and you’re part of it.”
Land, a zinester herself (she made 250 single-page zines during 2020’s lockdown), is all about storytelling over hierarchy. Art shouldn’t be about gatekeeping or intimidation, she says. So she holds open-invite arts shows at Subterranean Coffee.

Duophobia regularly share their work at local galleries like Subterranean, filling that lowbrow space with pieces that answer: “What would’ve made us laugh as kids?” Children are often the first to pick up their zines, unfolding them in every direction while parents briefly panic at the impulsive destruction. The twins always step in. “No, no, it’s okay,” they say, before showing how one sheet of paper folds into an entire little book. “It’s like magic.” More often than not, the kids leave with a tiny zine tucked under a tiny arm, future San Diego zinesters in the making.
When asked what a zine really is, Alora Dotson’s response was simple: “It’s anything. Literally anything. The more genuine you are, the more people are going to hear what you have to say. Your voice matters, even if it’s just a silly joke or story. People want to hear about it.”
Not a perfect definition? Exactly. Zines inherently resist categories. Want to turn a single playing card into a storybook? Do it. What about your favorite graffiti artist’s signature tag at Prince Memorial Skatepark? Turn it into a zine.
Everything’s a zine.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Behind every beautiful space is a thoughtful process, and ASID San Diego is helping homeowners understand the value of professional design.
A perfectly designed home rarely happens by accident. Those kitchens that feel effortless and rooms that seem to tell a story the second you walk in? They’re usually the work of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
It’s knowing which ideas will actually work, which materials will hold up over time, and how to turn a collection of choices into a space that feels intentional. That’s where a professional interior designer comes in.
For the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) California San Diego Chapter, the goal is to help people see interior design as more than just the finished look. Behind every well-designed space is a process built on technical expertise. Designers are educated in everything from professional software and construction details to building codes, space planning, materials, and functionality.

“People don’t always realize how much goes on behind the scenes,” Kirsten Recce , current president of the ASID California San Diego Chapter, says. “Our designers are not just doing furniture placement and color selection and picking out new fluffy pillows. That’s not what they’re trained for.”
ASID members bring formal education, continued learning, and industry knowledge to their projects, helping create spaces that are not only beautiful, but designed to work. A paint color that changes completely depending on the lighting. A material that looks beautiful in a showroom but doesn’t make sense for everyday life. A layout that photographs well but doesn’t function for the people living there. These are the details where professional guidance can make all the difference.
Still, one of the biggest misconceptions about hiring an interior designer is that it’s reserved for massive renovations, luxury homes, or people who already know exactly what they want. The process can feel intimidating. Where do you begin? Is a designer worth the investment? What if you only need help with one room?
ASID’s answer: start with one hour.
ASID’s Spruce Up events break down one of the biggest barriers between homeowners and professional design: knowing where to begin. Held twice a year, the community program gives homeowners the chance to work directly with an ASID designer through a one-hour, $125 consultation in their own home. Whether you’re looking for advice on furniture placement, window treatments, kitchen and bath updates, remodeling ideas, vacation rentals, color selections or something else entirely, the upcoming September 2026 event offers an approachable way to get expert guidance before committing to a full project. Signups are open through Sept. 7, with consultations taking place Sept. 21 through Oct. 31. Proceeds benefit ASID San Diego’s educational and community programs. Register here!

“It’s a great opportunity for people who are in that exploratory phase,” Recce says. “Maybe they’re not sure they want to hire an interior designer yet, or they think it sounds daunting or expensive. This gives them a chance to discover what working with a designer is actually like.”
Design is personal. A good designer isn’t just creating a beautiful room; they’re helping create a space that fits the way someone lives.
“We’re a resource to all of San Diego County,” Recce says. “It doesn’t cost anything to pick up the phone and call and ask. We’ll answer.”
Follow ASID San Diego on Instagram, LinkedIn, and Facebook for updates on upcoming events, or connect with the chapter directly at [email protected] or 619-548-8847.
From tacos to tailors and trainers to travel, these are the businesses, people, and places that earned San Diego readers' votes
San Diego Aesthetics and Med Spa
Elicia Soltesz, Elicia Marie Beauty
Ashley Fierro, Ashley Fierro Makeup
Michelle Langston, MSN, APRN, FNP-BC, HNB-BC, Starlite Aesthetics
Alysa Espiritu, Afterglo Beauty Lounge
Ronnie Page, Gold Comb Barbershop North Park

Ryleigh Hunter, Headbang Salon
Ann Teresa Degischer, Maen the Salon
Lindsay Axelrod, Pixiedot Salon
Lauren Skinker, Lucky Cat Tattoo

Father Joe’s Villages Turkey Trot
The Camp Transformation Center, West Chula Vista
Singing Hills Golf Club at Sycuan

Camila Casanueva, The Yard Gym

Austin Harrington, Captain’s Quarters
Bivouac Ciderworks, Savoy Dry Apple Cider

Missi Burns, Et Voila

Prospera Internal Medicine and Aesthetics
From handmade goods to one-of-a-kind finds, these local shops prove the best souvenirs are the ones with a story
Almost everything in this Oceanside shop is made by local artists and independent weirdos, and almost none of it requires a gallerist’s budget. Goblin Shark Emporium rotates a new featured artist every month between the vinyl crates, blacklight posters, and hilariously specific stickers, so you can walk out with original work and a tarot reading to contemplate as you sip your Banana Dang Coffee from a couple storefronts down.
Tucked within the potting tables and ferns of Mission Hills Nursery, the oldest nursery in Southern California and a Kate Sessions original, sits Through the Fold, the sweet indie bookstore that mother-daughter team Gail Levine and Jennifer Medeiros hand-built and opened in late April. Two retired educators and lifelong bibliophiles run it like a neighborhood living room: three book clubs, toddler story time, and a summer camp for the 7-to-12 set. It’s the rare retail run that smells like soil and new paperbacks, which is to say, like a very specific kind of heaven.
Open since 1993 under the unbeatable tagline “Books of Martians, Murder, Magic, and Mayhem,” this Rosecrans Street institution is the city’s portal for anyone who would rather be on a different planet. Load up on sci-fi, horror, and fantasy, then stick around for the weekly Dungeons & Dragons campaign, because the only thing better than reading about another universe is rolling a d20 inside one.
On the ground floor of the downtown Central Library, tucked into the Joan and Irwin Jacobs Common, sits the Library Shop, a tightly curated gift store stocked with presents and trinkets you didn’t know you needed: wind-up kitchen timers, specialty pencils, felt coasters in colors cheerful enough to overcome the first half of the Padres’ season—you get it. Every dollar funds the San Diego Public Library system, which makes the shop’s official “Guilt-Free Shopping” motto the rare slogan that holds up. Come for a paperback, leave having formed a genuine emotional attachment to a $4 pencil.
The window at this North Park shop is alive: a front-of-house catio where adoptable rescue cats audition for your heart while you pretend to be just browsing. From there, a literal catwalk runs along the ceiling to a back resting room (because existing around inferior beings is exhausting for cats). Owner Vera Blatchley of Purrgatory stocks the full cat-lover arsenal, plus a wall of gifts for the feline who already has nine of everything. Fan favorite: a retro-style, bubblegum-pink Kit-Cat Clock.
Surf art’s everywhere, but it’s somehow always a little kooky. Painter Andy Davis’ style captured that elemental soul, making him one of the most successful surf artists of the last few decades (check his giant mural at Town and Country Resort). His tiny Encinitas storefront, Club Paradise, is a gallery-slash-gift shop that stocks his paintings and prints—and he’s using the space as a culture club for local and touring creatives.
Tulux is the Pacific Beach swimwear label out of Cass Street, where designer Yamhed Torres turns the whole Tulum fantasy into bold, limited-run bikinis. This year, Vogue México y Latinoamérica named her one of just 10 emerging designers to watch, so each suit comes with the kind of credentials that practically books its own sunset getaway. Everything is one and done: When a piece sells, it’s gone for good, which is either smart scarcity or the universe telling you to commit.
Free lotto tickets at crystal shops? Yes, please. Pacific Beads owner Shlomo Gruer greets you at the door of this Clairemont Mesa warehouse with 4,000 square feet of crystals, geodes, and beads by the bin. You come for wholesale amethyst and sterling findings; you leave holding a fistful of healing stones and a statistically remote shot at early retirement. Need another reason to visit? Owner Gruer has his own line of jewelry, and Pacific Beads also hosts jewelry-making classes.
El Cajon’s Parkway Plaza could look radically different in the near future, as city officials are hatching plans to reinvent the one-time community and commercial center. Inflection points of iconic structures are always compelling times to visit and tabulate your own urban-planning daydreams. As you do, hit the first NAMA-certified automatic cotton candy vending machine in the country. Push a button, and 123 Sweetsss spins you a fresh cloud of childhood in under a minute. No carnival, no county fair admission, no sweaty teenager in a paper hat required.
A new program guides new moms through high-risk pregnancy and into the “fourth trimester”
Mai Vue was just 34 weeks pregnant when she delivered her baby. Her pregnancy had been complicated, and she’d had a recent second trimester pregnancy loss, which led to her receiving specialized care from Sean Daneshmand, MD, a Scripps Clinic perinatologist who oversees high-risk pregnancies. Dr. Daneshmand and his team took care of Mai during her pregnancy, through the birth of her healthy baby girl and beyond. Mai was part of a program Scripps launched to provide support to new moms in the weeks and months after delivery. The postpartum program, known as Scripps Health’s Fourth Trimester Continuum of Care, provides care for women with high-risk pregnancies to optimize their health after childbirth and reduce the risk of complications in future pregnancies. Click here to learn more.
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