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From blue technology to workforce housing to social innovation, San Diego surpasses major hubs around the country
San Diego surpasses major hubs like Silicon Valley, Boston, and even the nation at large in terms of genomics, drug discovery, blue technology, restorative justice programs, and more. Here, 17 local innovators share their ideas to make our city more prosperous, healthy, and kind.
Joseph Johnson Jr., Dean, College of Education, San Diego State University
17 Big Ideas for 2017
When the recession hit in 2008, many of San Diego County’s 42 school districts hired fewer teachers, and made layoffs when budget cuts got worse. That meant fewer students considered a career in teaching, fewer new teachers were going into the system, and the average age of teachers increased. We’re feeling the ripple effect now, as the number of teachers across the county currently eligible to retire is in the thousands. SDSU Dean Joseph Johnson Jr. warns, “If we’re not building a strong pipeline of new, high-quality teachers, then we’re not serving our children well.”
His College of Education is ramping up efforts to recruit future teachers. One such effort is The Compact for Success, a partnership with the Sweetwater Union High School District. Sweetwater has the largest student body population of any high school district in the state, and any grad who meets certain rigorous academic criteria is guaranteed a place at SDSU.
In 2015, Sweetwater took it full circle: Former students pursuing a teaching credential in certain high-need subjects at SDSU are guaranteed a teaching job back in Sweetwater schools. “They’re looking at their numbers of potential retirees and they’re quite confident they will have vacancies, especially in math, science, and special education.” One stumbling block, however, was the fifth year of schooling required for students to get a credential. “For many students, paying for that extra year would be between difficult and impossible.”
Enter the RISE Scholarship: Return, Inspire, and become a Sweetwater Educator. SDSU has received a grant from the California Commission on Teacher Credentialing to develop programs that would allow students to earn their bachelor’s degree and teaching credential in four years. That will make the teaching profession more attractive and speed up the flow of new teachers entering the system.
Lisa Druxman, Founder, Fit4Mom
17 Big Ideas for 2017
“You’re not supposed to take a puppy away from its mom for at least eight weeks. Yet we expect moms to go back to work after just six,” says Lisa Druxman, SDSU grad and mompreneur. Even worse, a quarter of employed American mothers return to work within two weeks of giving birth. While some companies’ policies fly under the radar, that doesn’t work for a mother-centric business like Druxman’s.
In 2001, the fitness pro founded Stroller Strides in San Diego and began franchising nationwide a few years later. She has since written a book and expanded her business to include pre- and postnatal fitness. “We’re trying to build a business for motherhood, not despite it,” she says.
Druxman believes more companies should give freedoms to not just working moms, but parents and individuals in general. She allows most of the employees at her San Elijo Hills–based company Fit4Mom to work 30 hours a week and from home when they want to, as long as 70 percent of their hours fall during traditional work time.
“I don’t think I’ve had an employee work nine to five in the last 15 years.” Fit4Mom has unlimited PTO and mandatory “Unplug Days.” “When you’re managing mainly moms, you spend so much time going, ‘Okay, you took half a day because your kid was sick or you had a doctor’s appointment’—but I don’t care. You are going to take what you need, so take what you need.”
She communicates with remote employees via Skype or Facebook’s Workplace feature. “I connect to a person who’s downstairs in my office the same way I connect with someone in Chattanooga.” She teaches employees time-budgeting and productivity hacks. She also recommends San Diego employers ask their workers what their ideal schedule would be. “If they have a better quality of life, they won’t jump to another job so fast. Even if someone’s able to offer a higher salary—let me tell you, there are way more important things than money.”
Jacqueline Isaac, Attorney at Law and Vice President, Roads of Success
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Jacqueline Isaac was born and raised in L.A., but moved to Egypt with her family at 13. “It was really difficult,” she says. “I had to learn what it was like to be a woman, a Christian, and American—all odds were against me.” At 15, she returned to the U.S. to go to college in Orange County, and four years later she was back in Egypt on her first humanitarian project, speaking out against female genital mutilation and child marriage. She went to law school at USD, but began making humanitarian aid trips to Jordan and, when ISIS arose, to Iraq.
During one mission, she started to wonder what she could do about the psychological deterioration of the children she met, and she soon founded a mentorship program under her mom’s SoCal-based humanitarian NGO Roads of Success, where Isaac serves as vice president. “There are so many refugees coming to San Diego; these kids have seen so much, and then they have to deal with the language barrier, the culture shock, and getting bullied—they can become good or they can become gang members and terrorists because of the trauma. It’s really dangerous if they don’t have the right mentorship.”
As part of the program, a San Diegan pairs with one refugee from Iraq and helps them integrate. The pairings are strategic—an aspiring dentist will be matched with a local dentist, for example. “We want them to feel like leaders, not victims,” Isaac says. “We are not going to let this generation be lost.”
A second program helps teenage refugees who have fled ISIS and now live in Iraqi camps. Tech Over Trauma currently connects 32 girls with mentorship, counseling, education, and English lessons via the internet. Donors can “adopt a girl,” providing a computer and internet subscription.
In between her trips to the Middle East, Isaac has testified in front of Congress, which voted unanimously to declare the ISIS situation a genocide; the U.K. has done the same, and she’s currently trying to pass a genocide resolution at the United Nations Security Council that declares genocide has occurred against Christians, Yazidis, and other minorities (making it possible to prosecute ISIS for the crime of genocide).
In the meantime, she continues a container program she began when the refugee crisis broke out, collecting shoes, blankets, and other supplies to the Middle East (Prince Mired of Jordan sponsored the first shipment). San Diegans have helped fill and send thirteen 40-foot containers since 2012, and Isaac’s goal is to ship one every month.
Steven P. Dinkin, President, National Conflict Resolution Center
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Steven Dinkin launched the National Conflict Resolution Center (NCRC) in 2003, and today it has a novel partnership with San Diego’s law enforcement agencies. If a youth is charged with a misdemeanor or felony and admits to wrongdoing, they can go through NCRC’s restorative community conference program, which includes a sit-down dialogue with the victim, their relatives, and other members of the community affected by the crime.
Together, they come up with an action plan, usually involving an apology, restitution, and/or community service. If everything is carried out, the justice system agrees to drop charges. It sets kids on the right path and saves taxpayers money: The estimated average cost to prosecute and incarcerate a youth is $113,500, versus $6,000 to participate in the restorative program. “In the punitive justice system, you can’t be proactive or be empowered to work toward a solution,” Dinkin explains. “But that’s what creates empathy and compassion and true change. That’s what really alters the behavior going forward.”
Dinkin tells the story of a boy who was succeeding in school and dreamed of joining the military. But while he was out with a group of kids in a big box retail store, he stole a camera. Because of the camera’s value, the crime was considered a felony, which would’ve prevented him from ever joining the military. However, through restorative justice, the boy came to understand the consequences of his behavior, the cost of heightened surveillance at the store, and the impact on the employees. He apologized to the managers as part of his accountability plan and is now back on a solid path to success.
Two years ago, the NCRC began working with San Diego Unified School District. Instead of using the zero tolerance disciplinary system, under which the youth would be suspended or expelled from school, they start a dialogue with teachers, staff, school police, family, and others so that the student can remain in class and avoid the school-to-prison pipeline.
In fall 2016, the NCRC opened its first Center for Community Cohesion in Southeast San Diego and plans to open more throughout the country. The center trains people in inclusive communication and informal mediation and helps neighbors navigate cultural and political differences. NCRC is also rolling out programs for building campus stability at community colleges and universities, and training thousands of San Diego County government employees. “We’re the only organization in the nation that works at all levels of society, from the family to the community to government, and on a national scale. I’m very sanguine that we’re going to continue to see significant change in the future.”
Serge Dedina, Mayor, Imperial Beach
17 Big Ideas for 2017
After attending the 2015 Global Wellness Summit in Mexico City, Serge Dedina, environmentalist, activist, PhD, and author, led the charge in making Imperial Beach one of the first U.S. cities to celebrate Global Wellness Day the following year. “We brought together everyone—Stroller Stride moms, CrossFit gyms, military families, yoga studios, surfers, seniors, and everyday residents—around the idea of being healthy, happy, and celebrating wellness,” he says.
Since then, the city has added more athletic events to its annual calendar, transformed garbage-filled parking lots into community work and health centers, beautified open spaces like People’s Park, supported new yoga and CrossFit studios, and given residents more access to art, music, and nature (tearing down those chain-link fences!). A new partnership with SDSU’s Arts Alive program and the Port of San Diego brought the Symphony by the Sea to IB, Pier South Resort hosted a Latin Jazz Summer Concert Series, and Switchfoot played a free concert on the pier for 10,000 people. “Regardless of income level or residence, everyone should have a right to a high quality of life.”
Henry Ford, Senior Vice President, Fox Sports West
17 Big Ideas for 2017
“Why does Indianapolis do such a good job of attracting high-profile events over San Diego?” Henry Ford asks. “Their sports commission makes Indianapolis look like the place to be in the middle of winter.” Hosting events such as basketball’s Final Four can be a huge financial boon to the local economy. Ford, a former board member of the Greater Cleveland Sports Commission, describes a very active, well-funded group that flies to other states advocating for Cleveland and soliciting business. In other cities, “There’s a sense that we need to go out and sell our community, sell our facilities, sell our readiness for these events.”
And if last summer’s MLB All-Star game was any indication, San Diego has many advantages beyond just the great weather. Ford says San Diego was perfect for the big event, in part because fans could take a cab from the airport and never get in a car again. “We do conventions and events very, very well,” he says, “oftentimes much faster than other cities.
The Padres’ ownership and the city had 18 months to pull together the All-Star Game, where most communities have more than four years.” So why not better organize the push for attracting more sporting events? Let’s play hard ball! (Editor’s note: We could start with an updated, attractive web presence. Currently, The San Diego International Sports Council still ranks on Google search pages, but has an outdated site that lists the Buick Invitational among the city’s annual events. It was renamed the Farmers Insurance Open years ago. The San Diego Sports Commission site also features a 2014 golf event. Time for a refresh—and maybe an Instagram account.)
Pete Schultz, President, The Scripps Research Institute and California Institute for Biomedical Research
17 Big Ideas for 2017
John Dole
What if you could combine basic science, translational research, and drug discovery under one roof, and do it in the not-for-profit sector? If revenues from drugs went to fund more research instead of going back into investors’ pockets? What if a drug could go from research bench to bedside in six years, rather than twenty, cutting costs of clinical trial phases and lowering the price of the medicine? Dr. Pete Schultz may have found a way to do it all.
As president of both The Scripps Research Institute (TSRI) and California Institute for Biomedical Research (Calibr), he is creating a partnership that, while just a few months old, is already preparing ten programs for human clinical trials. “That’s really quite rare, for a not-for-profit to move molecules all the way from inception to actually giving new drugs to patients,” he says.
With funding from the Gates Foundation, they have a potential treatment for childhood diarrhea, one of the leading killers in developing nations. Another may stop the transmission of viruses like Ebola, Marburg, and Zika. There’s also an ongoing regenerative medicine project for osteoarthritis, as well as programs for multiple sclerosis, prostate cancer, fibrosis, and chronic heart failure. TSRI and Calibr maintain partnerships with foundations as well as the biotech and pharmaceutical industries because it takes significant resources to develop a drug, and for-profit companies often sponsor research phases.
But if they’re quick, efficient, and experience fewer failures, the savings can be anywhere from tens to hundreds of millions per drug. Schultz recently met with medical school deans from Harvard, Penn, and other prominent institutions who are all trying to do the same thing within their universities, starting from scratch. Schultz says that without the infrastructure, technologies, and direct experience, it’s extremely difficult to do.
“What’s unique about this partnership is that we’re marrying two existing highly productive organizations,” Schultz says. Calibr will be a corporation under TSRI, and someday, he believes, adding a genomic medicine institute will create a plural: The Scripps Research Institutes.
Jay Buys, CoFounder and CEO, Visceral
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Good things come in small packages: Downtown digital agency Visceral has just seven employees, yet in 2016, the company paid 60 percent of everyone’s health care premiums. This year, they’re paying 70 percent. “We won’t stop until we can afford to pay it all,” says company cofounder Jason Buys. Treating employees well is just one part of what it takes to qualify as a B Corp by the nonprofit B Lab.
In addition to employee care, B Corps are determined by environmental impact, social accountability, and more. In practicing what they call “conscious capitalism,” Visceral seeks clients that are “mission-driven organizations” committed to doing good work, and Visceral promotes its own employees’ volunteer time and resources throughout San Diego. “Essentially, it’s a business framework for all of the things we already value in society.”
With cofounder Matthew Billingsley, Buys recently published Repurpose: Be Good at What You Do & Do Something Good, about finding a career path that has purpose and meaning. He says that although there are 2,000 certified B Corps in the world, San Diego has fewer than 20, and he hopes the number will grow. “There’s so much entrepreneurship here—turning all our businesses into B Corps would make San Diego a model of what a modern, progressive city can be.
Jason Giffen, Assistant Vice President, Port of San Diego (left)
Job Nelson, Assistant Vice President, Port of San Diego
17 Big Ideas for 2017
For the first time in history, the State Lands Commission is partnering with the Port of San Diego to study and plan for the health of our waters. “In the years to come, we’re going to see a number of increasing pressures on the ocean, whether it be sea level rise, overfishing, or wanting to use the ocean for things like renewable energy or mining,” Job Nelson says. Hence a collaborative effort to come up with a meaningful plan. The first phase will involve asking the Navy, commercial and sports fishermen, the environmental community, the blue tech industry, and the general public how we should address the future of our waters.
Deciding on the scope of the assessment is the first step. The State Lands Commission’s jurisdiction extends three miles from the shore for the entire California coast, so the study could include the Tijuana River Valley all the way up to Oceanside, but will most likely look at a smaller area. The next step is a formalized planning process.
“Land use and most of what is built on land is highly regulated,” Jason Giffen says. “When you think about the ocean, there’s a lot more opportunity to start more or less from ground zero. We’re going to really think about how we can synergize different uses in a way that creates harmony.”
For example: Nelson often fields calls from people looking to test unmanned marine vessels, but they don’t know whom to ask or where to do it. “I want to make sure we’re allowing new companies to develop by testing their technologies, but doing it in a safe and secure way that’s not going to do any lasting harm,” he says. “We see the ocean as a resource as well as a laboratory.”
Danielle Duarte, Director of Professional Development, Hatching Results
17 Big Ideas for 2017
California’s counselor-to-student ratio ranks second to last in the nation. The American School Counselor Association recommends a ratio of one counselor to 250 students, but California has an average of one to 822.
Our kids are missing out. A well-trained school counselor visits classrooms to teach skills for academic success, help with college and career readiness, and provide support for social and emotional learning. A sample lesson might be on respect and anti-bullying, or about how to check grades online and why they are important.
“A lot of people don’t see the positive impact a school counselor can make,” says Danielle Duarte, former president of the California Association of School Counselors, who currently teaches part-time at SDSU’s Department of Counseling & School Psychology. A good school counselor can also identify problems at home and even play an essential, life-saving role: According to the CDC, the suicide rate of middle school students, ages 10 to 14, doubled between 2007 and 2014. In fact, a middle schooler is more likely to die by suicide than by car accident. Helping a child feel supported and connected to school is not only good for the child but good for the school, reducing chronic absenteeism.
“The state’s education code says a school district may provide a comprehensive educational counseling program,” she says. “My big wish would be for a shall instead of a may.” Along with that, she insists, the counselors must be well-trained, implement a comprehensive program, and show positive results such as improved attendance records, increased college admissions, or a reduction in behavior referrals. “A study by professors at UC Davis and Texas A&M showed that hiring a counselor is equally effective as hiring another teacher to reduce class size.”
Brian Alman, Psychologist and Author
17 Big Ideas for 2017
After firsthand experience with his own daughter, Dr. Brian Alman, a wellness consultant at Kaiser and therapist to CEOs, rock stars, and athletes, turned his focus to childhood stress resulting from peer pressure, cyberbullying, competition, and more. “Kids are bombarded with negative energy, as we all know how overly critical and cruel they can be to each other. And truthfully, most parents don’t have any idea about the amount of daily stress their kids are experiencing.” In 2015, 25 percent of U.S. teens had suffered from an anxiety disorder.
Alman has penned seven books, including Less Stress for Kids, which gives children hands-on techniques to counteract the abundance of these challenges. He’s also developed a year-long curriculum—which includes stress management tools like visualization, relaxation techniques, positive self-talk practices, creative games, and drum circles—which has already been implemented in two Encinitas private schools. Alman envisions the program becoming accessible to all schools in San Diego County. To his credit, Stedman Graham (Oprah’s beau!) has championed the program in Chicago schools as well.
Jonathan Segal, FAIA, Architect and Developer
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Architect Jonathan Segal, the brains behind the North Parker and Hillcrest’s Mr. Robinson building, wants more “efficiency unit lofts,” a sexier term for workforce housing (not to be confused with affordable housing). The building at Columbia and Cedar—which he hopes to get approval on early this year and move-in ready within six months—would have 35 600-square-foot units, each with built-in cabinetry and a fold-out bed—no furniture required—and a 6 by 10′ deck.
The catch? Zero parking. He wants the bartenders and store clerks who work in Little Italy to be able to live in the same community and walk to their jobs, rather than commute in. To legally forgo parking, he’ll provide four affordable housing units ($600 per month rent). “Nine parking spaces are required for a project like this and we’re saying we want none. Zero.”
His agenda isn’t to demand people get rid of their cars. “My intention is to provide housing that hopefully, by design, will attract people that don’t have a car or that work in the area.” Not owning a car brings expenses down for both developer and tenant, in addition to being better for the environment and easing traffic. Currently, the average rent for a one-bedroom apartment in Little Italy is $2,000, while 46 percent of millennials don’t even have a driver’s license.
Segal thinks workforce housing is the way of the future. Good candidates for this type of development are North Park, Barrio Logan, around Morena Boulevard, our university areas, and anywhere near mass transit.
“I am trying to change the planning code to allow developers to build workforce housing anywhere the zoning allows medium to high density,” he says. “I want to build workforce housing by right, with no community involvement.” But he’s facing “tremendous pushback” from the NIMBYs. “The residents don’t understand. It’s a sophisticated thing to make a city right, and leaving it up to the community doesn’t accomplish anything other than delaying a project. It’s extortion and a waste of time.”
To that end, he is educating people through his lecture series, Masters of a Generation, which raises awareness of good design in San Diego. Top architects in the nation participate; this month’s dates are January 13 and 20.
Patricia Márquez, Dean, Joan B. Kroc School of Peace Studies, University of San Diego
17 Big Ideas for 2017
In the same way we might look at a piece of art from several angles, Dean Patricia Márquez wants us to look at social issues from more than one angle and come up with new solutions. “We can do all the policy making and urban planning, we can create more nonprofits, but we’re still using the same logic to approach homelessness, inequity in the educational system, gender differences, and racial tensions,” she says.
As an example of social innovation, she cites a European organization that hosts soccer matches for homeless people. “It’s not just creating awareness of homelessness,” she says. “It’s giving a sense of integration. Does it solve that problem entirely? No, but is it something that is changing a dynamic and social relations and the way the community looks at the homeless? Yes. That’s the kind of thing that I want to nurture in San Diego.” Take our city’s large population of refugees—they’ve moved from a rural community to an urban one. Márquez suggests working with owners of abandoned lots to allow refugees from different areas to connect through urban agriculture.
How do we execute so many ideas? Márquez suggests developing a culture of empathy and problem solving early on. The next generation, she says, “Won’t just learn two plus two, but begin to see at an early age that math can contribute to solving the problems in our own community.”
As an educator, she’s giving students not just from USD, but all the universities here, including Tijuana, access to mentoring and advice for creating an org and getting funding. And this fall, she’s launching the new Master of Arts in Social Innovation (MASI) program. “It’s not just [talking about] how to change the world. We’re saying, ‘If you have those ideas, show us.’ Remember, solving people’s problems is not about being in an office with A/C. If we develop a generation who is hungry to see that they can contribute while making a living, then I think it’s a different story in the 21st century. I want to be part of that story.”
Kristin Lancino, President and Artistic Director, La Jolla Music Society
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Kristin Lancino arrived in San Diego armed with more than 30 years of experience at various arts institutions, including New York’s Carnegie Hall, where she witnessed firsthand what can be accomplished with enough community support. At La Jolla Music Society, she’s been tasked with the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of building and developing programming for the new Conrad Prebys Performing Arts Center, aka The Conrad, set to open in 2018.
The new 49,000-square-foot venue will house a 500-seat concert hall and a smaller multipurpose space. But for Lancino, it’s not just about attracting big names and limited engagements. “We want to bring in artists not just for a one-night slice. We want to invite them to come and stay awhile,” she says. “It’s about frameworking specific artists to be artists in residence.” Her mission is to put creativity and imagination at the forefront of every program they present, which means showcasing new music and choreography as well as hosting workshops and other educational classes.
Lancino has a list of potential ways to engage the creative process, such as displaying children’s artwork in the lobby. Or how about a “petting zoo” in the courtyard, where kids can touch every instrument from the orchestra and hear how it sounds? She also knows composers who could teach fifth graders to compose something original after spending just an hour with them. Construction on the new center is slated to begin this month. “When you’re digging, it’s fertile ground, and we have fertile ideas.”
Neerav Jadeja, Hospital Administrator, Paradise Valley Hospital
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Towels shaped like animals, ceilings painted like the sky, and seashell-shaped soaps—in some ways, Paradise Valley Hospital’s new San Diego Spine & Joint Center could double as a seaside resort. There’s also a newspaper at every door and an orchid for each patient (or “client”) as they leave. “Staying in a hospital shouldn’t be like entering the prison system—the admissions, ugly uniforms, and bad food,” Neerav Jadeja says.
Clients don’t have to wear hospital gowns, which he calls “demeaning—a psychological barrier.” They’re also given all the tools to recover, such as a pre-op class and group therapy. A friend or relative is encouraged to be a “coach” at physical therapy. And if something is unsatisfactory, well, the hospital leadership does the rounds.
It’s quite forward thinking for a hospital founded in 1904. In 2007, the National City institution was struggling to keep its doors open, losing $1.5 million a month. Then Prime Healthcare bought it. When Jadeja joined four years later, he helped turn it around, and now plans to rethink other departments. With that kind of success, it’s no wonder he says he “works in paradise.”
Sarah Mesnick, Ecologist, Southwest Fisheries Science Center, NOAA Fisheries
17 Big Ideas for 2017
San Diego is uniquely positioned to lead the sustainable seafood movement, safeguarding the ocean and our high standards of cuisine at the same time. “We have all the right ingredients,” Sarah Mesnick says. “World-class marine scientists, talented fishermen, knowledgeable markets, award-winning chefs, and educated consumers who understand the value of a healthy, sustainably sourced seafood supply.”
She believes that we need this fusion of insights to create a long-term vision for the future of fish, fisheries, and seafood. She points to cross-industry, ocean-to-table events for sharing ideas over supper with “people who work on the water, with scientific data, and with dinner.” And they are looking into a partnership with Scripps where chefs and biologists can learn directly from one another in the kitchen.
“What makes us different from other coastal cities with rich seafood cultures is that we’re also home to hundreds of the world’s best fisheries, scientists, oceanographers, marine resource economists, ecologists, and climate experts.” This pool of talent informs sustainable management of ocean resources, so they, too, contribute to healthy fisheries in the long term. “We who live in San Diego may not realize it,” Mesnick says, “but we are emerging as a sustainable seafood model for the rest of the world.”
Sarah Rudder, U.S. Marine Corps Veteran; Gold Medalist, Invictus Games 2016
17 Big Ideas for 2017
After a traumatic car accident and subsequent injuries from serving as a first responder at the Pentagon on 9/11, USMC veteran Sarah Rudder has encountered problems with her brain, leg, shoulder, and more. She underwent five unsuccessful surgeries before having her leg amputated in 2014.
A year later, she began running. “It’s really hard for an amputee to run,” she says. “Depending on how high the amputation is, we use anywhere from 30 to 70 percent more energy.” Still, she threw herself into all kinds of sports. A highly competitive athlete, she entered the Warrior Games and, based on her performance, qualified to be part of Team USA at the 2016 Invictus Games.
There, she competed in shot put, discus, running, and rowing, taking home seven medals. Rudder was the first American to win gold, the MVP, and the most decorated participant out of all 14 nations at the games. Now she runs four miles a day and trains in sprinting; she has just one second to lose in order to make the Paralympian team.
Rudder also mentors and raises money for disabled troops. She volunteers for Walking Wounded, Ampower, Semper Fi Fund, the Bob Woodruff Foundation, and Walking with the Wounded. She loves athletics, and insists that getting to games is a major challenge for any vet with visible or invisible injuries. “For veterans with the same disabilities to be able to get together and not have to explain where we’ve been or anything… that would be something. And having that competitive nature is also a plus.”
San Diego County is home to about 236,000 veterans, roughly 10 percent of the population, and the third highest population in the country. Rudder sees a need for an organization where volunteers help organize events in the region, find sponsors, transport vets, and most importantly, keep them updated. “We have to research all that on our own. It’s really difficult, especially for people with brain injuries.” She explains that her brain injury causes migraines, short-term memory loss (to the point that her husband sets multiple reminders a day on her calendar), occasional confusion, and more.
But none of that weakens her desire to compete. “It’s an amazing feeling to be able to get back into the world. When I compete, I might be running for 15 seconds or 30, but for that specific time, I think about nothing, and that right there is worth every second.”
17 Big Ideas for 2017
Artists and advocates are building a more sustainable creative future through public funding, political organization, and cross-border collaboration
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act III. See Act I and Act II here.
We’ve been here before.
In 2012, city funding for the arts and culture in San Diego had eroded. As a corrective, the city council unanimously approved “Penny for the Arts”—a promise to dedicate roughly one penny of every dollar spent on hotel rooms (the Transient Occupancy Tax, or TOT).
The logic was fair and sound: Cultural institutions and events help attract visitors. Those visitors pay hotel taxes. So, the people agreed, some of that hotel-tax revenue should go back into maintaining the cultural ecosystem that helps bring those visitors and that money.
Projected as a five-year plan, the measure was supposed to increase funding to $17.9 million by 2017.
It never did. The penny was never guaranteed, so each year the city used part of it for other priorities. By 2023, the money going to arts and culture was up to about a half a penny. Even as TOT revenue has gone up significantly.
In 2019, TOT revenue was $245 million.
In 2025: $325 million.
One fix would be to guarantee the penny. Not simple, given San Diego’s financial woes. But the alternative—eroding the culture that makes San Diego San Diego, give it its identity—also doesn’t feel wise. Plus, even a locked percentage still rises and falls with tourism, which is why culture advocates want a guaranteed floor on top of it.
Another solution would be to give the arts commission actual authority.
“It’s an advisory body,” says arts commissioner Kamaal Martin. “You’d be hard-pressed to find anybody who takes our advice.”

He described the commissioners debating real, consequential questions this year, like whether and how to divide the cuts between funding pools. But those conversations “don’t connect to whoever’s actually deciding,” Martin says. “We haven’t been entrusted with decision-making about relevant things nearly enough.”
Christine Martinez is building political infrastructure through her organization Arts+Culture:San Diego—which is starting a 501(c)(4) lobbying structure not unlike police and fire unions. Martinez is also keeping her community actively engaged. “We won’t be caught off guard next year like we were this year,” she tells me.
Then there’s the evergreen issue of affordability and accessibility. Kiplinger’s most recent report ranks San Diego as the 11th most expensive city in the US, based on cost of living. The average home value is $980,700 (the US median is $540,000), but San Diego’s median household income is only one-third greater than the national level. Rent is also 66 percent higher than the national average ($2,716 vs. $1,636).
This is why San Diego has long suffered from the creative brain drain—creatives leaving for more affordable cities. “Artists are free to live wherever they want, and they will go where the rent is affordable,” says Jennifer de Poyen of Space 4 Art. “When they leave, they take their gifts with them, and their contributions, and their economic impact.”
One saving grace is the presence of Tijuana, where the cost of living is about 60 percent lower than San Diego, per Numbeo. Tijuana has long functioned as an affordable neighborhood for many in San Diego’s creative culture. It’s part of the reason why the binational identity is such a constant in our galleries, music, theater, murals, and culture. While that cross-border blood flow is one of San Diego’s most compelling attributes, few artists living that life would call it convenient or easy. A city is at a disadvantage when its culture creators have to cross a border to go home at night, and cross again the next morning to work.
In May, San Diego County Board of Supervisors approved a $2.75 million arts initiative of its own. It includes an Artist Space Grant Program aimed directly at the affordability crisis, as well as an artist-in-residence program, a dedicated Binational Creative Economy Investment, and a one-time investment in the Black Arts and Culture District in Encanto.
Bob Lehman of San Diego Art Matters has been doing county-level, binational organizing for years; in 2023, he helped get the county’s arts commission reestablished after 30 years of defunctness. That’s important because it gives arts and culture an official seat in county government, advising the County Board of Supervisors on arts and culture policy. He also brought in consultant Laura Zucker, who ran LA County’s arts program for three decades, to build a real regional plan.
“I really believe we’ll have something set up here that other communities come and look at,” he told me. “A national template other cities come to learn from.”
When asked who decides which artists will get the new grant money, county arts commissioner and executive director of the Chicano Park Museum and Cultural Center Monica Delgadillo Hernandez doesn’t hedge.
“That’s part of the infrastructure we’re going to be building,” she says. “What should a panel of reviewers look like? Should it be the commissioners? Should it be other folks? A supervisor?” She was just as candid that the commission itself doesn’t reflect San Diego’s population—Chicano communities are roughly a third of the city, she tells me, “and that’s not represented at the table yet.”

The great news is that none of these solutions have to be invented from scratch. Numerous cities serve as examples of what’s possible—if we have the will.
Jonathon Glus—Prebys Foundation Senior Fellow for Art & Design, the Executive Director of the Art + Design District, and board president for California for the Arts—worked in Houston before coming to San Diego. The Texas city dedicates 74.5 percent of its hotel tax to arts grants by formula, and that support is guaranteed. Washington, DC locked in dedicated arts funding in 2019. Salt Lake City, my hometown, has run a voter-approved arts tax for almost 30 years, most recently reauthorized through 2034. And just this summer, New York City pushed cultural funding to a record $323.8 million, even incorporating an emergency fund.
Denver’s model is interesting because instead of a city-dependent funding model, theirs is a 0.1 percent regional sales tax. In place since 1988 and renewed by voters three times, their Scientific & Cultural Facilities District has distributed between $54 million and $85 million to arts, culture, and scientific orgs—each of the last 12 years.
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act III. See Act I and Act II here.
None of these cities got there by accident. They decided, on purpose, that arts and culture were worth protecting from politics—and, in some cases, worth building an entire identity around.
“That’s how Miami has flipped the switch,” says Glus. “People go to Miami for culture as much as they do the beach.”
San Diego has spent decades selling itself backward: Beach and weather first, culture as an afterthought you might stumble into. Glus would love to see the strategy flipped: Visitors should come for the art, “and then, by the way, you’re on the beach.”

“I do think it was a wake-up call for the community,” de Poyen says of the budget fight. “People understand that our funding is vulnerable. It was a lesson in how much power people have when they coalesce. But wow, is it painful.”
Glus says he’s genuinely optimistic. “The players have all changed seats, but the work is moving forward.”
“I believe optimism is a moral duty,” says Martin, who’s both power-fist and polite.
In eight months, there will be another budget fight. Everyone I talked to expects it will be worse. But something happened this spring that can’t be undone.
“I hope this rupture has brought us together in a moment of self-realization,” says Leticia Gomez Franco of the Balboa Art Conservation Center. “I hope we stop being so transactional; we begin to see ourselves and each other as partners in this work.”
That’s the whole ask, really. And it’s on all of us.
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act III. See Act I and Act II here.
Aaryn Belfer is a writer and editor specializing in nonfiction across art, architecture, and culture. Once upon a time, she wrote a provocative column for San Diego CityBeat (RIP). She was a runner up in the 2025 Matchbook Stories contest at the San Diego Central Library and is irrationally happy about it. Currently in her Soft Girl Era, Aaryn has expensive taste in (mostly flat) shoes and will choose a great art exhibit or live jazz concert over almost anything else. Except, possibly, Javier Bardem.
The history, communities, and creative movements behind a cultural scene that extends far beyond the city’s postcard image
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act II. See Act I and Act III here.
Without concrete, wildflowers are just weeds. Any honest history of San Diego art and culture is tension and its reckonings. It begins before the name existed, with the Kumeyaay. It must pass through the Panama-California Exposition, one hell of a county fair that conjured Balboa Park as our grand cultural stage. It pays tribute to the lights of La Jolla, where the donor pool helped realize unrealizable things. It should mention names like Marston, Scripps, Ochoa, DeWitt, Lopez, Klauber, Baldessari, Torres… so many.
In short spaces like this, long histories like that become roll calls. So this is more of a walk through pressure points, notes on recurring forces and regional oddities.
Border life is key to understanding the here of here. Art without dialogue is just decoration. At its best, that dialogue should be a tad muddy, emotionally gassed. In other words, it should be in need of art—to widen perspective, parse meaning, see the unseen.
San Diego’s central dialogue—the magic and the stressor—is being flatmates with Mexico’s second-largest city by population. That makes San Diego a swing-gate of shared and vastly different perspectives, both its own place and something larger. And in no other major city in the US do the fresh flow of ideas from two countries—different governments, laws, mores, expressions, arts, cultures, traditions, economies, loves, and resentments—mingle at such a constant daily rate (due respect to El Paso).
That binational steam created Chicano Park, one of the most uniquely San Diegan contributions to national and international culture. When construction of the I-5 and Coronado Bridge divided Logan Heights, neighbors protested by transmuting prejudicial concrete into redwoods of Chicano art. Turning a civic wound into a beautiful and enduring landmark that expressed and preserved a core identity—like East Side Gallery in Berlin or Constitution Hill in Johannesburg—is damn near the core of what art is supposed to do.
Like any city, the underground-overground friction is crucial in San Diego. Our culture is headlined by institutions that lift creative work onto national and international stages: MCASD, The Nat, SDMA, Centro Cultural de la Raza, the Symphony, WorldBeat Center, The Old Globe, La Jolla Playhouse, Mingei, Museum of Us, Stuart Collection, Timken, ICA, Comic-Con, etc. The next mutations grow in the seams: street murals, music dives, tattoo shops, wheatpasted walls, graffiti, lowriders, surf and skate art (though in San Diego, this is mainstream), pop-up shows, backyard shows, beach raves, any place with room for people and a loose relationship with regulations.

Both art and culture get their power from power. They’re fundamentally a conversation with and retort against dominant structures. San Diego’s most pervasive structure is arguably the most rigid form: the military. Its presence is heavy in the southern tip (Border Patrol), the middle (Navy and MCAS Miramar), and northern edge (Camp Pendleton). The military is San Diego’s largest employer, by a long shot.
Within this plus-sized environment of order and hierarchy, it’s understandable that Shepard Fairey’s “OBEY” posters in the late ’90s struck such a potent chord. The most compelling punk rock is often outside a strong governor’s window. (The “OBEY” series featured an ominous, propaganda-style André the Giant wheatpasted on random ugly surfaces across San Diego—launching Fairey’s style that he eventually used for Obama’s “HOPE” poster.)
Armed forces are often viewed as the absence of creative culture—understandably so, since rogue individual expression feels like a pretty sure way to sink a war effort.
But in San Diego, the Navy’s unsuspecting role as art creator—directly or indirectly—is hard to ignore. Tattoos are a dawn-of-time practice of many early cultures, including the Kumeyaay. But Polynesia was a core realm. Sailors were exposed to it on deployment in the Pacific Rim, inking their arms with the names of loved ones and unit insignia. Back in San Diego, they’d flaunt those tats in the beaches and bars of Mission Beach or PB (Marines did the same in Oceanside.) Enlistees were the muscular flesh galleries that helped turn skin art into one of the city’s most widespread modern art forms.
During WWII, the military also trained huge legions of San Diego laborers how to build war machines. Those mechanics, engineers, machinists, welders, painters, and metal fabricators used those skills for creative good in their neighborhoods—especially in custom car culture, which took off in the post-war ’50s and ’60s. Mexican-American vets helped develop the lowrider scene, a deeply rooted part of San Diego creative expression. Galleries on slow-moving wheels.
Tourism is the other mainstream force ripe for creating against. It is both critical to San Diego’s economy, and one of the greatest barriers to deeper, more nuanced expressions of what and who San Diego is. The industry of selling our city to passers-through creates a gigantic tarp of cultural tropes. It reinforces the most obvious charms—cute zoo animal takes in an epic sunset with a giant margarita—and doesn’t yield much airspace to the thrilling micro-cultures that live and breathe where locals live and breathe. Nothing against watercolors of dolphins, but much against the hegemony of watercolors of dolphins.
Maybe because of these dominant forces, San Diegans especially tend to force underground and institutional art into a needless cage match. It’s human instinct to champion the underdog as more worthy, but that has always felt like a form of articide.

It’s like saying the only good food is made by gritty upstarts who crafted their own whisks from discarded shopping carts. Most of those plucky whisk-makers would love to eventually be paid properly, would love a stage, a grant, a building, a donor, a lighting rig, health insurance, maybe even one chair that doesn’t threaten the spine.
That’s what the major institutions do. Both stages—the duct-taped and the donored—serve vital roles and deserve commensurate support if we care about the entire lifespan of creative expression and not just its first exciting steps. Championing the starving artist exclusively just secures an enduring poverty for the creative class at large.
I’ve often theorized it’s harder to create great art and culture in cities like San Diego, where the climate is supernaturally pleasant. In colder/hotter/rainier/less beautiful cities, people are forced indoors to fabricate their own beauty (the grunge music of Seattle, the obscene creative output of Reykjavík). San Diego’s eternally mild sunshine tends to make the human body our art medium of choice. But scratch the surface of that surf poster (and I’ve only scratched a miniscule percent here), and this city’s far from the cultural shallows it gets accused of being.
Addendum: A Personal Agenda. In scouting the route of art and culture across San Diego county through history, two areas come up again and again: La Jolla and Barrio Logan. So I propose a collaboration between two icons of artful concrete—Chicano Park and Salk Institute (one of the world’s great examples of brutalism architecture). Let Barrio Logan’s muralists go nuts on that coastal science fortress, unite the realms for a moment in time.
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act II. See Act I and Act III here.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
The city’s cultural sector regained millions after a proposed 85 percent cut, yet nonprofits, youth programs and major institutions still face painful losses
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act I. See Act II and Act III here.
Every spring, Christine Martinez reaches out to the arts community to explain what’s on the line, hoping they’ll engage with the city’s budget process. Cultural funding, she constantly reminds, is almost always strapped to the guillotine. Especially in a city strapped for cash.
“It’s not an easy ask,” says Martinez, manager of Arts+Culture:San Diego. “Showing up is a real cost for small, volunteer-run groups that can’t spare half a day at City Council without possibly having to close their doors.”
Then, last April—with one day’s notice to arts leaders—Mayor Todd Gloria proposed a budget that didn’t trim arts funding; it eviscerated it, from $13.8 million to $2 million. An 85 percent slash. Other city departments faced cuts of about 7 percent.
The scheduled date of the cuts was just three months away (beginning of the fiscal year). Organizational leaders have to plan months if not years ahead to run their organizations. They had made hires, dedicated spending, and programmed their seasons based on a reasonable expectation that support for the arts would be somewhat in line with previous years. (The City has allotted at least $7 million a year to arts every year for the last 20 years, and the last four years have ranged between $13.8 and $18.2 million.)
The day felt even more existential given the national and international climate around the arts: namely, the federal government’s repeated proposal to eliminate the country’s two biggest cultural foundations (NEA and NEH), and the global trend of AI replacing more costly human creatives.
“It shocked everybody,” says Kamaal Martin, arts commissioner and co-founder of Art Power Equity. “If the message had been, ‘Times are tough, everybody tighten their belts a little,’ it would have landed differently. But there was no vision offered for the future, no parity in the cut. It was just, essentially, ‘Fuck you.’”
Among things I’m good at—sleeping late, low bidding for expensive shoes on Poshmark, parallel parking on either side of the street—budget analysis isn’t among them. In trying to understand how bad the finances were for San Diego to propose this drastic cut, I found myself drowning in numbers, pie charts, and politi-speak.
In his April 27 newsletter, Gloria explained that balancing the budget means “asking hard questions about every single dollar this city spends: Is this a core responsibility of city government, or is it something we do when we can afford to?”
Fair enough—if he were to ask those hard questions about every single dollar this city spends. It also makes his conclusion clear: The City of San Diego does not view supporting arts and culture as a core responsibility.
Which begs more than a few questions: Should the City be responsible? If not, then who? How crucial are arts and culture to a city? And since this is a budget discussion, how much revenue does the arts and culture industry generate for San Diego? What’s the ROI?

$1.2 billion.
That’s how much economic activity San Diego’s arts and culture nonprofits generated in 2022, according to the City’s latest Arts & Economic Prosperity 6 report. The industry created nearly 17,000 jobs and generated $878 million of personal income for local residents. About 15 percent of the people showing up to arts events in San Diego are tourists, so money was raised through TOT (Transit Occupancy Tax). The activity generated $275.7 million in tax revenue to the city.
In other words, the ROI seems to be ROI-ing.
Still, there have been signs that cuts were coming. In 2025, the City demoted the Department of Cultural Affairs to a division, folding it into the Economic Development Department (EDD). That meant Cultural Affairs no longer had independence, nor its own leader sitting at the same organizational level as departments like parks and recreation, library, police, and fire. It lost institutional leverage and would now have to compete with other EDD priorities—real estate, airport operations, business development, etc.—for budget allocation.
To be clear, few arts administrators and leaders I spoke with are interested in the either/or false choice of funding law enforcement or after-school programs; the fire departments or libraries. They’re sincere in looking for solutions that don’t leave any single group with a greater burden of righting a long-out-of-balance budget.
Jennifer de Poyen, executive director of Space 4 Art, says Gloria had long been a supporter of the arts, which made his attempted Red Wedding especially upsetting.
Aaryn Belfer is a writer and editor specializing in nonfiction across art, architecture, and culture. Once upon a time, she wrote a provocative column for San Diego CityBeat (RIP). She was a runner up in the 2025 Matchbook Stories contest at the San Diego Central Library and is irrationally happy about it. Currently in her Soft Girl Era, Aaryn has expensive taste in (mostly flat) shoes and will choose a great art exhibit or live jazz concert over almost anything else. Except, possibly, Javier Bardem.
Earlier this year, Fit quietly dropped "athletic" from its brand, from Fit Athletic Clubs to simply Fit, and started calling itself something new: a social wellness club.
There’s a version of San Diego that lives in two extremes. On one side, the 5 a.m. crowd: biohackers, marathoners, people who’ve already logged a cold plunge before your alarm goes off. On the other, the after-dark crowd, the ones chasing sunset happy hours and late dinners with friends. Everyone seems to be either optimizing or unwinding, and most of us feel like we’re failing at both.
Fit, San Diego’s reigning Best Gym for the third year running, has built its entire identity around erasing that divide.
Walk into one of Fit’s three San Diego locations on a Tuesday afternoon and the lines blur fast. Someone’s mid-set on the squat rack. Someone else has a laptop open at a café table a few feet away, half-working, half-people-watching. A group is trading plans for the weekend’s event by the recovery lounge. Nobody’s in a rush to leave.
“We’re not competing for the same people,” says Emily Waybright, Public Relations Manager at Fit, addressing the arrival of a national luxury gym chain in San Diego this year. “We don’t really feel like we’re in the gym category. It’s this unique thing.”
That unique thing has a name now. Earlier this year, Fit quietly dropped “athletic” from its brand, from Fit Athletic Clubs to simply Fit, and started calling itself something new: a social wellness club.
It’s a small wording change with a bigger idea behind it. Fit was never built around escaping the workday. It was built around the people who genuinely like what they do, and who want workouts, work, and friendships to happen in the same place instead of three separate ones. Because sometimes red light therapy with a stranger turns into weekend plans.
Fit’s philosophy traces back to its founder, who started the brand nearly two decades ago after failing to find a gym he actually wanted to belong to. He looked instead to the old-school country club, where people came for a shared interest and stayed for the community. His version was made for a younger generation, minus the golf, plus the loud music.
Which makes it a little ironic that the very award putting Fit back in the spotlight this year is Best Gym.
What does the best traditional gym look like when the definition of a gym is becoming less traditional? It’s a fair question, and Fit’s answer is that the fitness industry itself is shifting. The 45-minutes-in, 45-minutes-out model is giving way to something closer to a genuine third space, the kind of role the office and the bar used to play before remote work and changing nightlife habits rearranged how people spend their time
For Fit, community isn’t a marketing add-on to fitness. It’s the through-line. Members aren’t just paying for a treadmill; they’re paying for an entire day of social wellness that’s built on performance, recovery, connection, and a plan for the next event on the calendar. That’s a much harder membership to walk away from.
Ambition and ease aren’t opposites here, they exist side by side, where passion and play share the same morning. On September 12, Fit is hosting Sol, a full day wellness festival at Fit Social. The morning focuses on wellness classes and vendors and then the evening is a full party with multiple DJ sets and an open bar. Think of it as a kick-off to locals’ summer in San Diego.
Ready to see what a social wellness club actually looks like? Visit fitclubs.com, or follow along at @thefitclubs on Instagram.
Meet the artists, makers, and advocates whose work shapes how the city looks, sounds, gathers, and connects
San Diego is full of people who deserve a few thousand words on what they make, who they bring together, and how their work changes the city around them. The artists, makers, advocates, and behind-the-scenes talent below are a small part of that larger ecosystem.
To help us narrow our list, we looked for names that kept coming up, work that reflects the diversity of our region, and people building something bigger than themselves.
Jackie is a long-time freelance journalist covering cannabis, food/restaurants, travel, labor, wine, spirits, arts & culture, design, and other topics. Her work has been selected twice for Best American Travel Writing, and she has won a variety of national and local awards for her writing and reporting.
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.
Matt Eisenberg is an award-winning writer and photographer based in San Diego. A former ESPN editor, his work has also been published by CNN, Bleacher Report and the New York Daily News.
Aaryn Belfer is a writer and editor specializing in nonfiction across art, architecture, and culture. Once upon a time, she wrote a provocative column for San Diego CityBeat (RIP). She was a runner up in the 2025 Matchbook Stories contest at the San Diego Central Library and is irrationally happy about it. Currently in her Soft Girl Era, Aaryn has expensive taste in (mostly flat) shoes and will choose a great art exhibit or live jazz concert over almost anything else. Except, possibly, Javier Bardem.
Leorah Gavidor won her first essay contest at age 5. She writes features, news, and non-fiction in San Diego.
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
Emma Veidt is an editor at San Diego Magazine. She earned her bachelor's and master's degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism. She loves running, hiking, and rock climbing, but really, she mostly loves encounters with the street cats around North Park.
Gail Czyszczon is owner/copywriter at Z3 Writing and best-selling author of a children’s book series. As a strategic communications professional and editorialist, she's passionate about discovering untold stories and themes that ignite fresh conversation and true change in communities.
For Jonathon Glus, San Diego’s next chapter begins with the artists who help us understand where we’ve been
Some ancient philosophers believed that humans experience seven-year life cycles or phases of life. Some went so far as to believe that every cell in the body regenerates every seven years.
Much later, in the 1800s, Austrian philosopher, architect, and social reformer Rudolf Steiner developed anthroposophy—an integration of science, art, and spirituality—into his understanding of the human experience. Steiner believed that each of us changes every seven years—from spiritual beliefs to physical evolution—and art is the connective tissue through each of these cycles. Still today, Steiner’s teachings are foundational to the principles of Waldorf education.
While I’ve certainly experienced more than a few human life cycles of my own, I believe that, just like us, cities have their own life cycles.
Cities are living organisms, regenerated every day by the people that live, work, and gather there. Environmental changes, human migration, economic shifts, technological advances, politics, and public policy—they all inform a city’s evolution, sometimes intentionally and sometimes by forces outside of our control. But ultimately, we as humans respond, adapt, and sometimes make our most important new advances.

In the aftermath of World War II, in 1947, the Edinburgh International Festival was established to promote international peace through the performing arts. Today, that festival continues as a global gathering place to experience some of the world’s most innovative dance and theater.
In post-revolution Mexico, that country’s government launched a monumental muralism program to celebrate the history of its Indigenous cultures. Today, that tradition still informs the way Mexico tells its stories and how we understand its history.
Here in the US, the National Endowment for the Arts was established in 1965, at a time when the arts were seen as part of our national strength and resilience. For the first time, federal funds were directed to communities across the country to invest in the arts at a local level.
San Diego may be relatively young as a major American urban center, and even younger on the world stage, but our region as home to humans is ancient. Today, we love a San Diego that is built on roads and traditions of the Kumeyaay Nation, where we share a modern mega-region with our sister city and cultural twin, Tijuana, on unceded Kumeyaay land.
History has shown us that the arts generate the very human connection and understanding that allows our politics, policies, technological advances, and human migration to move forward. In that way and more, the arts are the very heartbeat of our city.
In this issue of San Diego Magazine, we celebrate the artists, creatives, culture bearers, and workers who keep our region connected and in conversation as we take on challenges big and small—internationally as well as on our own neighborhood streets.
Artists are our storytellers. They respond to and chronicle the best and the worst of us—our foibles and weaknesses, our struggles, and, undeniably, our successes.
Now: a look back into the past seven years in history. They have not been a walk in the park, with a pandemic, global unrest, and shifting domestic politics as only a few forces that have challenged our lives and our region. Together, we experienced some of our greatest struggles and witnessed tremendous resilience.
That’s exactly why this is an exciting time for the arts in San Diego. We are on the precipice of an even more fertile, sustained, and inclusive time for the arts in our region.
In some ways, Covid seems like an eternity ago. I remember all too well the massive economic impact on our cultural institutions, some of which have never fully recovered. I remember the mass layoffs of the workers who keep our arts institutions going and the teaching artists who were suddenly out of work.
I also remember the poets, filmmakers, actors, and musicians who helped us grapple with the disruptions of the pandemic. Our communities became virtual, and artists gave us the space to make sense of it all.
In fact, a common phrase emerged from the Covid: artists as second responders.
Still today, I think about the short film made by San Diegans Susanna Peredo Swap and Gill Sotu called History of Joy, which captured so brilliantly what we were experiencing during those days of lockdown.
Since then, as an arts community, we’ve pushed forward transformational work that we will continue to build upon in this next seven-year cycle and well beyond.
Hundreds of artists and culture bearers have spent the past several years going to work with community groups across the region as part of Far South/Border North, our region’s component of the California Arts Council’s groundbreaking artist work program, Creative Corps. The impact resonated so deeply that local government and philanthropy partnered for a second iteration, Artist Count, this time a binational initiative launched just a few months ago.
We’ve invested mightily in cultural infrastructure. Need some examples? There’s the reimagined Jacobs Music Center and Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego, the Black Arts & Culture District, the state designation of Arts District Liberty Station, and now the burgeoning Art + Design District downtown.
World Design Capital San Diego Tijuana 2024 elevated what we already knew—that the two neighboring cities are culturally and creatively intertwined as one region—and boosted our global presence as a creative juggernaut. Artists, designers, and community leaders worked together to produce more than 600 events across our region that year, and the impact continues.
And “Creative City,” the City of San Diego’s first cultural plan that incorporates arts and culture advancements in the city’s development, was crafted by thousands of San Diegans as a roadmap to take us into the future.
Here’s what I know about the past seven years: San Diego’s artists, creatives, and culture bearers showed up for our region as our storytellers, second responders, and creative workforce.
And for the next seven? San Diego will morph and change, as every city does. Sometimes because of us, sometimes in spite of us. But our city’s creative community has a solid foundation on which to build, led by the artists who witness and tell our stories each and every day.
—Jonathon Glus, Conrad Prebys Foundation’s Senior Fellow for Art and Design in Residence at the Downtown San Diego Partnership
Laika Nur, MD, takes her love of volleyball from the court to the clinic as team physician for the San Diego Mojo
Growing up, Laika Nur, MD, Scripps Clinic sports medicine specialist, loved watching beach volleyball when the Association of Volleyball Professionals tour came to her hometown of Chicago. A talented volleyball player herself, she remembers sitting in the stands all day, and once, even got a couple autographs. Years later, Dr. Nur was attending a professional event focused on women’s sports, and the discussion turned to a new professional women’s volleyball league. The general manager and coaching staff for San Diego’s team, the Mojo, happened to be in attendance, and Dr. Nur took the opportunity to ask them if they needed a team doctor. Flash forward to the Mojo’s inaugural 2024 season, when Dr. Nur officially became the team physician. Click here to read more about Dr. Nur and how she incorporates lessons she learned on the court into her practice.
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