Any wandering eyes hypnotized by the dominant guitar and raw drums draw back to the center of the stage when the band’s dynamic heartbeat steps out in a black leather number accessorized with a studded ’70s chain belt and a shaggy white coat. Frontwoman Hannah Geller lets out a harmonic scream. This is what the San Diego music scene has been waiting for, I think.

“I can just hold the microphone and run around the stage and jump off of things,” Geller says. “I love that element of being in Silver Bullet—to just release all of my energy I get from performing. I don’t hold back.”

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Geller had already established her voice as a psychedelic and progressive musician before joining Silver Bullet. With over 200,000 followers across Instagram and TikTok, a few viral YouTube covers, and a discography of self-produced singles under her belt, Geller was looking to expand her scope. Working on her solo career and doing marketing at The Music Company in Pacific Beach left her craving what brought all of the members of Silver Bullet together in the first place: an outlet.

John Kelly (guitar) and Ryan Simmons (drums) first started jamming together last year while studying at San Diego State University. Both grew up with blues and heavy metal in their repertoire, which brought cohesion and a solid musicality to their songwriting. But even after adding bassist Jake Quintanar, they were still not yet a band—just a few marketing, accounting, and graphic design majors looking to riff together. It was their lead singer who pulled the trigger on a greater sound.

At her audition in November of 2023, Geller knew she needed to go big. When she let out a lurching, captivating belt that drowned out the instruments, Silver Bullet was born.

“I think, out of anyone, Hannah might bring the most diverse influence to the band with her style of singing,” Kelly says.

“Something that makes us unique is our heavier rock sound mixed with my softer, breathy voice,” Geller adds. “Something you don’t get from male singers a lot are those real high ranges and the ability to belt crazy riffs. The female voice is so equipped for rock music.”

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On the heels of their debut EP The Evil Cowboy, released September 2024, the band has evolved from jamming at college house shows and opening for local favorites (including 2024 San Diego Music Award–winner Matthew Phillips) to performing at venues like Music Box and SOMA. And they’re not only playing for undergrads.

“The older crowd definitely appreciates our music more than people our age,” Geller says. “It’s what they grew up on, and they’re discovering this new, younger band that’s playing music from their era.”

The four-song The Evil Cowboy EP bridges the gap between Gen X’s beloved classic rock music, millennials’ pull toward grunge, and the resurrection of psychedelic rock that’s following Gen Z’s affection for alternative and indie songs. Silver Bullet slips in metal and blues melodies, too.

“The Evil Cowboy is very Black Sabbath—inspired [by] Bill Ward—for me, at least,” Simmons says of his drum instrumentals for the EP. “‘Joyride’ or ‘Wild Card’ might be more like Tommy Lee in Mötley Crüe.”

The results are both accessible and energizing, a shot of glittering espresso in a town dominated by sleepier reggae and surf rock. And audiences are responding—not just in San Diego, but online, too. Silver Bullet has amassed several viral videos on Instagram with over 20 million views combined, appeasing the algorithm by tying in trending memes, singing covers by rock legends, and creating videos that showcase their genre-blending and-bending singles.

But there’s something about the band’s music that begs to be experienced live, in the company of others. Whether the audience consists of 10 people or 1,000, Silver Bullet shows are kinetic and loud.

“I love performing more than anything,” Geller says. “This genre could not be more fun for me.”

“You can have good music, but putting on a performance is a huge aspect of the show,” Kelly adds. “You’ve got to have both good music and stage presence. In my opinion, that’s what makes a good band great.”

The post Silver Bullet Brings a Fresh Take on Classic Rock appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

I arrived in Jackson Hole a few days earlier in yoga pants, a tee shirt, and a puffy jacket, with little recollection of what winter weather outside of San Diego is like. With a high of 40 degrees during the day and a low of seven at night, the early winter temperatures were already threatening to send me back to California.

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Soon, Snow King Mountain, Jackson Hole Mountain, and Grand Targhee resorts will be in full swing for the season. Snow bunnies looking for fresh powder will hit the 2,500-plus acres of skiable terrain. But for now, the town is quiet. A few of the more popular establishments, like the iconic Million Dollar Cowboy bar, are closed. Those that remain open are filled with more locals than tourists.

“Quiet,” however, is exactly what I’m looking for—I know that much, even if I’m unsure of what to expect from the town’s “in-between” season. My home for the week is The Cloudveil, a hotel which sits in the center of the town and, thankfully, features gas fireplaces in all of its guest rooms—a win for the weather-averse.

Around the property, guests have access to a swimming pool and hot tub, a Parisian-style bistro for all-day dining (get the French onion soup), a fitness center, and a rooftop deck. Each floor also features a snack station filled daily with complimentary items like chips, trail mix, fruit leather, hot cocoa, and sparkling water.

As part of their stay, visitors can book seasonal experiences through the resort’s Pathfinders program. During winter months, that includes activities like snowmobiling, dog sledding, snowshoeing, guided backcountry ski tours, sleigh rides, and a wildlife safari—the latter of which introduced me to Ryder.

From May through December each year, Ryder runs eco tours in the area before heading to South America for the rest of the winter to lead fly-fishing excursions. Today, he’s taking me on a private tour of the region inside a 4×4 safari-style Jeep while educating me about the challenges the area and its wildlife residents have faced over the decades.

As we drive through Grand Teton National Park and the National Elk Refuge, we keep our eyes out for elk, bison, moose, bighorn sheep, and other animals scattered throughout the park. “Very soon, we’ll see an elk migration come down here, maybe as many as 8,000. And it really fills up the refuge,” Ryder says, pointing out at the landscapes in the distance. “It will be groups by the hundreds. This part of the valley gets the least amount of snow in Jackson Hole. It’s the easiest place to spend the winter.”

Today, Wyoming is one of the last true vestiges of America’s “Old West.” The state’s Indigenous culture, cowboys, cattle ranching, and vast open spaces (which remain largely untouched) are all a part of what makes this place so special. But ensuring it stays this way hasn’t been easy, Ryder tells me.

“One hundred years ago, there were no wolves and very few grizzlies,” he says as we rattle over snow-covered landscapes. “This place was on the brink of just falling off a cliff, but with the environmental awakening of the 1960s and ’70s, the greater Yellowstone area was one of the first to say, ‘Hey, let’s restore this to the way that Mother Nature had it before we got here.’ So, today, we have all the original species.”

Among those efforts was an initiative to bring back wolf populations to the state. It is estimated that around 250,000 to two million gray wolves were once abundant throughout all of North America.

But, by the 1800s, when European-American settlers and their livestock moved west, wolves were viewed as a threat to ranching efforts. In 1945, they were eradicated from the Northern Rockies and were listed by the US Fish and Wildlife Service as endangered in 1974. The Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem became designated as a recovery area.

“It took decades to bring the wolves back because they are so controversial,” Ryder says. “It was in 1995 that they first brought them back, and that was the final piece of the puzzle to complete this ecosystem. It saved everything.”

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The wolves’ presence helps maintain healthy prey populations, reduce infectious and genetic diseases in prey, and improve habitats for other species. They indirectly impact plant life by changing foraging patterns that lead to the regeneration of trees and other vegetation.

When 41 wolves from Canada and northwest Montana were released into Yellowstone National Park in the ’90s, 26 years passed before they were delisted from the endangered species list. Today, Wyoming is home to around 350 wolves and 43 packs.

But the wolves alone aren’t enough to protect Wyoming’s wild spaces from the ravages of human activity. Climate change has hit the state hard. According to Ryder, harsh weather, rising temperatures, limited water, and poor soils have threatened the region’s ecosystem in a number of ways.

“In the past, these changes would happen much more slowly, and plants and animals and the timing of things could adjust and move,” Ryder says. “If it happens too fast, then these adjustments can’t be made, and you’ll see extinctions.”

With temps increasing each year, melting the snow more quickly, recent droughts have dried out soil, killing many trees while also upping the risk of forest fires. The changing climate is expected to decrease the availability of water in Wyoming in the coming decades as well, affecting agricultural yields and further fueling potential wildfires. It’s why people like Ryder and local conservationists are so passionate about spreading awareness of the state’s ecology.

“This is the last fully intact ecosystem of the lower 48. It’s the last vignette of primitive America,” Ryder says. “That’s the valuable thing about this place—acknowledging that the interplay of all these things is happening all the time.”

Back at the resort, dressed in a white robe and sipping wine, it’d be easy to forget about that fragile equilibrium.

Easy to take this place and its beauty for granted. Earlier in the week, at The Kitchen restaurant, I dined on Asian-inspired fare like duck breast with smoked miso, corn, crispy tofu, cucumber salad, and Thai basil alongside local flavors like bison tartare. As I think about today’s adventure and about that meal, I hear Ryder’s voice.

“Around the 1860s, the population of animals [was declining] so rapidly that [Wyoming’s] once American Serengeti–type landscape was reduced to nothing. [Before,] there were maybe 30 million bison, 50,000 grizzly bears, millions of pronghorn, millions of elk,” he’d explained. “And by the 1900s, that bustling Serengeti was silent, with almost no wildlife to speak of. People didn’t know if there were any wild bison left.”

Native to this area, bison were wiped out when homesteaders arrived in the Jackson Valley. The western United States, once flush with North America’s largest land mammal, was reduced to only a comparative handful of animals living in Yellowstone National Park. Efforts from 1948 until now have finally allowed for a resurgence of these native creatures. Today, Yellowstone preserves the most important bison herd in the nation and is the only place in the lower 48 states to have a continuously free-ranging bison population since prehistoric times.

Soon, I’ll head to dinner at Code Red, a taqueria known for its pozoles and unique taco selections like elk carne asada. I’ll drink local beer from Snake River Brewing and shop for turquoise jewelry made by local Navajo, Hopi, and Zuni nations. And I’ll be surrounded by residents gearing up for the start of the snow season before the crowds shuffle in.

It’s the ebb and flow, the delicate balance between keeping Wyoming as unspoiled as possible and bringing it into a new, more modern era. But maybe that’s the point of visiting a place like Jackson Hole. You don’t change it; you don’t mess with its ecosystem. You soak it in, learn about what keeps it wild, and leave it better than when you arrived.

“I think, if anything, it’s kind of cool to see that continuity here, where nothing has changed. Like Triangle X dude ranch has the same view that they had 100 years ago,” Ryder says. If we do things right, another century from now, someone—another wildlife biologist, another rancher, maybe another writer like me—will be able to gaze out at the very same sight.

The post A Weekend in the Last Stronghold of America’s Prehistoric Past appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

March 25, 2024

Inside The Yen House, One of San Diego's Most Iconic HomesRELATED ARTICLE

Corinne and Kerry have been married for 41 years. Their family has migrated each summer from their hometown of Fort Lauderdale, Florida to North San Diego County since the kids were little. Kerry, a lifelong surfer, met Corinne at a Fort Lauderdale beach party when they were 16. He briefly studied architecture at college in Miami but soon dropped out to join friends on a five-month surfari from Baja to Guatemala. Back in Fort Lauderdale, he embarked on a development career. Today, his company converts abandoned big-box stores into storage facilities, among other large-scale projects.

Fifteen years ago, the Marshes began their search for a site in Del Mar where they could build their dream home. “In the end, it came down to a couple lots,” Kerry says. “Corinne liked this one best, and she was right.” Their one-third acre is only a stone’s throw from Torrey Pines State Beach—if the wind is right and you have a strong arm.

The Pacific Surfliner runs nearby, which doesn’t bother the Marshes. “I wanted to be close to the tracks because I love the sights and sounds of trains passing by,” Corinne says.

The Marshes’ lot formerly held a small 1950s bungalow designed by Del Mar modernist Herb Turner. While many other homes by Turner have been preserved, theirs was an obvious teardown. Their realtor had enlisted Solana Beach architect Brian Church to evaluate sites. He and the Marshes hit it off, and they tapped him for the new house’s design, which went through several iterations before it was approved by the Del Mar Design Review Board. Church’s plan was partly inspired by his love of Southern California modernists such as Richard Neutra and Rudolf Schindler, whose 100-year-old El Pueblo Ribera courtyard duplexes in La Jolla feature strong indoor-outdoor connections and simple materials.

As work began, the Marshes were clear about their priorities.

“I wanted to see whitewater and the waves rolling in,” Corinne says.

“It’s always view, view, view,” Kerry adds. That may sound too simple, but it really captures the home’s essence.

Kerry was not always a fan of modernist architecture, with its spare, no-frills approach. “The design changed at least four times,” he says. “The first version was French Country with a barrel tile roof, then it went more modern, like a lot of stuff I’d seen with wood, metal, glass, and stone. In the end, I’m glad it went the way it did. I really love the house now.

Construction began in 2018 and was completed in 2021. But it took two more years to “dial it in,” Kerry explains. “We worked on every room and went back and forth with ideas several times.”
Church’s design spreads 5,000 square feet among five levels connected by steps zigzagging between wide landings. Smaller spaces tuck into the slope, while voluminous sections face sweeping coastal views. A foundation of two-foot-thick retaining walls is anchored deep in solid sandstone. The rugged base supports open interior areas as tall as 19 feet, though they seem even higher, since the open plan lets you gaze from the bottom level all the way up to the entry landing. The house may be barely visible from the street, but there’s drama over the edge.

Walls of limestone blocks, dry-stacked without mortar, and smooth-troweled stucco precisely meet floors of limestone and wood. Railings and hardware are made of steel, stainless steel, and copper. Yucca, ocotillo, snake plant, agave, prairie grasses, and other species chosen by landscape architect Greg Hebert, who died in 2022, surround the home. Together, these elements conjure dreamy nights and days in Joshua Tree or Twentynine Palms.

Kerry has often collaborated with Fort Lauderdale interior designer Michael Beamish, whose resume includes resorts in far-flung locales along with custom homes. Beamish, a charming Brit, brought a simple but elegant aesthetic that resonates with Church’s architecture. Furnishings are contemporary but subtle. Beamish used natural materials including wood grain, soft linens, and light-hued stone.

The primary suite is a fabulous lair, Corinne’s favorite place in the house for meditation, solitude, and pondering the ocean and sky. The Marshes enjoy sea views from a custom bed and swoopy freestanding tub. Beamish designed other bedroom furniture, too, like a daybed covered with organic chenille and additional pieces upholstered with fabrics from textile company Kravet. A wall of smart glass overlooks the vast, sometimes bustling central spaces. It goes opaque for privacy at the flick of a switch.

A chandelier of crystal butterflies hangs in the entry. Nearby is an industrial-strength, steel-and-glass elevator like the one Kerry saw in a remodeled historical building in Switzerland. The kitchen features stainless steel appliances and light-toned Taj Mahal quartzite countertops. The adjacent dining and living room holds a plush Nathan Anthony sofa and Adriana Hoyos side chairs. Mounted over the built-in gas fireplace and flat-screen TV is a hardwood surfboard matching the contours of boards designed by legendary shaper Gary MacNabb for big waves at Todos Santos, the epic south-of-the-border break. This life-size replica is too heavy for surfing, but it’s a fabulous example of the surfboard shaper’s art.

Recessed shelves line walls on each floor. They hold a fascinating, sometimes amusing array of family memorabilia, ranging from framed photos to ceramic objects and a model of cartoonish characters aboard a VW convertible towing a teardrop trailer. Most rooms showcase images by North County photographer Aaron Chang, best known for shots of surfers and coastal landscapes. Many of those are on view, but visitors wandering through will also see Chang’s abstract photos of oceanic textures and colors, as well as a triptych over the primary bed of large dried leaves that he came across in the Dominican Republic.

All told, the home is an homage to the stretch of Southern California coastline just outside its doors—which, for the Marshes, is what it’s all about.

“We wake up every morning, get our coffee, and sit on the patio, and my wife does not want to go back to Florida,” Kerry says. “I walk down the trail and surf behind the house. We walk on the beach every day.”

“I love waking up here,” Corinne adds. “I raise the blinds and do a prayer and look out and feel like I’m so blessed to have this view in the morning and the sunsets at night. We both grew up middle-class, and we feel very lucky we’ve come this far and get to live here. It was always our dream, when we were young, to live on the ocean and see the whitewater coming in. We got pretty much everything we asked for.”

That includes a vanishing-edge pool, just past the built-in wet bar and custom pool table and through broad sliding glass doors. Lined with dark pea gravel, bordered by blue glass tiles and ipe hardwood decking, and furnished with chairs and chaise longues from RH Outdoor, it’s the centerpiece of this outdoor living room, a lovely place to relax most days of the year. At the property’s back edge grow three Torrey Pines that are special to Corinne—she preserved them as tributes to her three children. From just the right angle at sunset, you can imagine that the pool spills through the silhouetted trees and into the Pacific.

The post Inside the 5,000-Square-Foot Modernist Home Built Into a Cliff appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

After 32 months and $28 million, the Balboa Park Botanical Building is ready for opening night.

The Palladian palace made its debut at the 1915 Panama-California Exposition. “It was a place to display all of the horticultural and botanical wonders that San Diego’s climate allows us to grow,” says Jacqueline Higgins, the landscape architect who led the restoration project. It is one of the largest lath structures on the planet to this day.

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But after almost a century of wear, the overgrown building was in need of a significant refresh. Over the years, the city has made attempts to fix the damage brought on by termites and weather, patching structural weaknesses as they arose. However, those efforts were usually compromised by limited funding. Over time, the building was stripped of key architectural features, including the graceful arcades that once engulfed the structure. In 2022, with the support of Forever Balboa Park, the project launched, with the goal of returning the building to its original grandeur.

Balboa Park unveiled the renovation to the public in December. “It’s such an incredible asset that the city has been able to bring back and continue to allow free and open access to the community and visitors from around the world. To be a part of that is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Higgins says.

Soon, work will begin on phase two, which will restore the gardens lining the institution’s perimeter. “It’s not just [about] the building,” Higgins adds. “The setting around the building really creates a magical space.”

The post Inside Balboa Park’s $28M Botanical Building Renovation appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

Carl became a train-stop bucket list for health-retreatists, including Hollywood (’50s actor Leo Carillo, star of hit TV show The Cisco Kid, was its most famous part-time resident—his naturalist estate is now a Carlsbad park). To balance the city’s food chi, chicken mania struck here next, when the iconic Victorian house owned by “Father of Carlsbad” Gerhard Schutte was transformed into Twin Inns, an all-you-can-eat clucker spot, in 1919. Early foodies traveled from far-flung places to heal themselves with Carl’s meaty arts.

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Carl was in no rush to become a boom town; the 5 freeway wasn’t even built until 1953. The airport arrived six years later (mention it if you wanna agitate a local), bringing the private-jet set and a healthy snowbird connection, thanks to Taos and Mammoth direct flights during winter.

A few key things helped spur a more modern culinary scene: San Diego city became impacted, driving people north, south, and east (coasts get populated first); Legoland opened in 1999, bringing engineery tourists galore; Carl became the center of the golf universe (Callaway, Titleist, you name it, they’re all here); Viasat built a 1.1-million-square-foot campus with 1,700-ish employees; and a Consortium Holdings leader spun off to open Campfire, followed by the eventual Michelin-starred spot Jeune et Jolie.

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A food scene, after all, depends on a constant flow of people and talent. The city that was once sleepy, fit, and idyllic is now energized, food-aware, and… still idyllic. Here are a handful of dishes you gotta try in Carl.

GONZO!

GONZO! Red

Gonzo! has been slinging Japanese comfort food and hosting concerts since 2020. The spicy miso broth of the red ramen boasts mouth-tingling Sichuan pepper and an optional hit of Carolina Reaper.

Pitfire Pizza

Honey Bear

San Diego is finally a legitimate pizza town, and, in 2023, Carl got some James Beard–nominated star power with Pitfire (the OG is in North Hollywood). The perfectly charred Honey Bear gets three cheeses (ricotta, moz, provolone), a drizzle of honey, hunks of sausage, Calabrian chile, and a sprinkle of bee pollen.

Stella Jean’s Ice Cream

Strawberry Oat Crumble

When we’re not seduced by the flavor of the month, this is the always-there flavor we can’t quit: a base of sweetened oat milk blended with strawberries and woven with crumbly oats. It’s creamy, dreamy summer year-round.

Rainbow Cauliflower Taco

Lola 55

Lola 55 is a San Diego taco success story (hi, James Beard Bib Gourmand) created by Tijuana native Frank Vizcarra, a real brain who helped McDonald’s expand globally before striking out on his own with an ode to his mom’s food. This vegetarian delight comes stuffed with charred rainbow cauliflower and eggplant, avocado mousse, shaved almonds, cilantro, salsa, and raisins. Oddly delicious.

Nick’s On State

Warm Butter Cake

Nick’s is a comfort-food chain stalwart that does classics well. The signature dessert is warm butter and sugar melted together beneath a scoop of vanilla ice cream and berries. Share elsewhere—this is a solo desire.

Campfire

Pork

At Jeune et Jolie’s sister restaurant Campfire, smoke isn’t an accent—it’s a core attribute. Get the slab of smoked pork dressed with beans, luscious plums, and large-grain mustard. Kids are welcome (the DIY s’mores are a mandate; plus, there’s a massive teepee out back).

Steady State Roasting

Rosemary Latte

Appreciate the occasional zhuzh’ed-coffee? Steady State’s rosemary latte is the call. It’s
not often you see a culinary-herb espresso. Rosemary is a brute, but the baristas here use an appropriately delicate hand.

Ember & Rye

Hanger Steak

After a long kitchen-fire closure, Park Hyatt Aviara’s signature restaurant is remodeled and back with a hell of a chef duo: James Beard–nominated Jon Bautista (formerly of Kingfisher and The Fishery) and Top Chef and Next Level Chef star Richard Blais. Any steak will do, but an eight-ounce slab of prime hanger from Brandt Beef is otherworldly (and only $44). Order the BBQ glazed carrots with nasturtium flower honey and smoked butter.

Himalayan Sherpa Cuisine

Lamb Tikka Masala

I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure a plate of this richly spiced, tender lamb tikka masala will cure whatever ails you. Call in enough naan to mop up every last bit… stat.

Shorehouse Kitchen

Mango Pancakes

The fluffy mango-guava-compote-smothered pancakes here are a plate of sunshine. Sit outside; breathe in the sea breeze. This place is like a tropical vacation in the heart of Carlsbad Village.

The post 10 Must-Try Meals from Carlsbad Restaurants appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

For years, I’ve been searching for a consciousness-altering, life-changing touch. A healing pain. The kind of muscular manipulation they outlawed centuries ago. I’ve explored high-dollar spas and in-home professionals¹ in pursuit of a more perfect bodywork. But none have scratched my itch. I’m needing something more, my own vision of what a rub-down can really be.

You know those steamrollers they use to flatten fresh asphalt? I want to be driven over by one of those. Pancaked. Scooshed like a toothpaste tube. I want a grand piano lowered upside down on top of me til I go flat and squeeze out the sides like a jelly sandwich. I want to stow away inside a garbage truck and feel the sweet crunch of the compactor, after a monster truck goes back and forth over me a few times. There are more than 600 muscles in the human body—I want each of them professionally abused.

Quite simply, I want to be wrung out like a sponge.

So, with a bit of finesse and an open-minded PR contact, I shaved my back and headed out in pursuit of an All-Day Massage².

I soon find myself sitting in the golf course parking lot at The Lodge at Torrey Pines, preparing to lie on a table for four consecutive massage sessions and wondering, Is there such a thing as too much good touch? I ponder the benefits of drinking water before I go. A desire for hydrated tissues and blood flowing silken through my veins is counteracted by not wanting to have to pee. So, I sip lightly and, with the bravery of a test pilot, head inside.

Two PR reps and the spa director greet me upon arrival. I’m made to understand that mine is a peculiar request. Yes, people combine massages and facials and foot rubs for a couple hours at a time, but this is different.

When I’d pitched the idea for an All-Day Massage, I was thinking big. Searching to find the far edge of what a massage can be. I’d hinted that six to eight hours would be ideal—but that less time may still allow me a solid glimpse of the truth I seek. The Spa at Torrey Pines offered four back-to-back 50-minute sessions of various specialities. I accepted³. With four, I’d at least know if I was onto something⁴.

In the eucalyptus-scented locker room, I disrobe, robe, and head to the waiting room for tea. Entering the small, LED-candle-lit treatment room that is to be my experiment lab, a quiet excitement takes hold. After all, a good massage can change your day, a great massage perhaps your week, so what might this massage change? My life? Will this be the back-rub ayahuasca I seek? Is ego death on the table?

The journey begins with a so-called Signature Massage. My therapist, Kirstan, works me head-to-toe—fingers in scalp, thumbs in instep. She has the touch, but I am not at once feeling squeezed like a zit. If this were a normal massage, I might be in my head—anxious or disappointed at not urgently having my body’s score wiped clean. But today, I settle into a new kind of calm. Instead of the main event, Kirstan’s session feels like a warmup, and, instead of feeling jittery, I relax, knowing that three more people will be kneading me like pizza dough.

Next up is a hot stone treatment with Ian. Hot stone massage has always sounded gimmicky to me, but when he slides the warm igneous ovals down my hairless back, I convert. My muscles break free of their restrictive fascia cocoons. Long-hardened tissue becomes soft muscle marmalade. Maybe this is working, I think. I still have hours to go.

After two sessions, I am indeed called to urinate⁵. Horizontal again, I begin to leave my body in a most extraordinary way.

Sometime during hour three, I travel through a door in my imagination to a place beyond sleep. Sitting quietly on the floor of a dimly lit room, I see thousands of screens playing what I understand to be all the dreams I will have for the remainder of my life. I’m excited to stay and watch, but I am suddenly jolted back into my body with a sinewy, incisive push.

My third therapist, Jeff, is scraping my trapezius with a gua sha stone, a kind of squeegee for muscles and lymphatic tissues. I feel my body unfolding like an origami crane returning to its crease-free origins, years of poor posture sighing in relief.

Like many whose lives are spent on a laptop, I tend to sit every way but correctly. My body is healthy but posturally unwell. I also happen to have a 2-year-old who treats me like a tackling dummy and climbs my spine like a stepladder, so, at times, I am sore. This is not unique. Some 30 percent of Americans say they suffer from chronic back pain. We all need more healing in our lives.

But good bodywork is not cheap. Money-wise, this is not an inexpensive experiment. The 50-minute Signature Massage at The Spa at Torrey Pines runs $235; the other services are more. All told, my four treatments would run upwards of $1,200 with gratuity.

A decadent endeavor, yes, but not unheard of when it comes to spa-day spending. If one has the money⁶, I imagine an All-Day Massage could prove a layup gift for anniversaries or birthdays or commemorating milestones and rites of passage—graduations, promotions, divorces. Getting wrung out is a great way to start a new chapter as an empty vessel. And who among us couldn’t benefit from that?

In hour four, I ride a waft of incense smoke back to semi-consciousness. A therapist named Jackie works a spicy spot between my shoulder blades with the savoir-faire of a virtuoso. This particular ache has been plaguing me for weeks, but, despite the day’s attention, it has yet to relent. However, as Jackie gently brings me back to reality, I notice calmness where there had been fury. It took time, but perhaps time is all I needed for that knot to untie.

Back in the fireplace-lit waiting room, I am desiccated and dry, ground into a paste. Sipping tea, I do a preliminary check to see if my All-Day Massage stripped my subjective sense of self-identity or if any unfortunate psychological and physiological effects passed down from my ancestors are resonating at a lower volume. It’s hard to say. A powerful headache is setting in; the rest will have to wait.

A shower, and I’m back on the road in I-5 traffic, slugging fluids and pondering Tylenol. In the days that follow, I notice my body feeling more pliable. I stretch more, sit straighter. After hours of being oiled, pressed, shaken, rubbed, and dug into with thumbs, elbows, and hot stones, I can say the experiment was a success. For those who seek the sweet release of a sponge-squeeze, an All-Day Massage might be the move. Just make sure you’re waterlogged first.

1. Once, thanks to Groupon, I found myself in a San Francisco apartment getting a martial arts massage I was told was usually done on the floor of a dojo. The strong therapist put his feet on the wall for leverage as he pushed his elbow into my upper glutes. The pain was breathtaking. I loved it.

2. Trademarking.

3. While wondering if this technically counts as a half-day.

4. I requested that the spa arrange for the therapists to come in with no breaks between. I wanted the feel of getting one incredibly long massage. I wanted overlap.

5. Knowing I should drink more water, I fail to do so. The heated table calls.

6. And many in La Jolla do.

The post I Tried It: The All-Day Massage appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

“The curve of his figures, that visual rhythm—it’s distinct,” says Derrais Carter, a Barnes scholar and associate professor of Africana Studies at UMass Boston. “There’s something uniquely American about his work.” Today, Barnes’ legacy echoes through galleries and auction houses around the world, his work fetching millions. But before achieving artistic acclaim, Barnes was a football player trying to make ends meet in San Diego. Our city—and this magazine—played a pivotal role in helping shape him into a man widely regarded as the first American professional athlete to become a professional artist.

January 2, 2025

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Born in Durham, North Carolina in the summer of 1938, Ernest Barnes Jr. grew up on a dirt road in a segregated nation. Gentle-natured and self-described as chubby, Barnes was bullied as a child. But his artistic inclinations were present early, simmering on a back burner while his life—and his body—grew in the direction of pro sports. With more than two dozen scholarship offers following high school, Barnes decided to stay close to home, accepting a full ride to the all-Black North Carolina College at Durham (now North Carolina Central University), where he studied art. The 6-foot-3-inch, 250-pound Barnes was then drafted by the Baltimore Colts in 1959. Barnes later said it was in the trenches of the offensive line that he learned much about human movement.

After a brief stint with the New York Titans, his connection to San Diego began taking shape when he accepted an offer from the Chargers in 1960, one year before the team moved from LA to Balboa Stadium.

“Even when he lived in LA, he loved going down to San Diego,” says Luz Rodriguez, Barnes’ longtime assistant and founder of the Ernie Barnes Legacy Project. “He really enjoyed the weather and the vibe, and whenever he talked about football, he preferred being a member of the Charger team.”

“For me, being a Charger satisfied my dreams about being a professional football player,” Barnes writes in his 1995 autobiography, From Pads to Palette. “It staked a deep claim in my emotional territory. It was a mark of my development.”

For Barnes, who found a lifelong friend in Chargers quarterback and later US congressman and vice presidential nominee Jack Kemp, San Diego wasn’t just a place to play football—it was a city of creative and personal exploration.

“When my father landed in San Diego, he said, ‘I’m home,’” Barnes’ daughter Deidre “DD” Barnes says. “He was very comfortable there. He loved the city.”

The family rented an apartment on Dream Street in southeast San Diego. Barnes set up a painting studio in a back bedroom where he could practice his craft when he wasn’t playing football.

“When we were young, paintings were all around us,” DD Barnes says. “Looking back as an adult, I realize how much art was a part of his life. In our apartment, my father had easels and paint all over the place.”

While suiting up for the Chargers, Barnes began moonlighting as a freelance illustrator for San Diego Magazine. This small step in his continued development as an artist came with a small paycheck compared to what was in his future.

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“When he worked for San Diego Magazine, he was trying to raise money—football players weren’t paid much back then,” Rodriguez explains.

“My father made about $600 a month playing for the Chargers,” DD Barnes adds. “He was selling art whenever he could, and, in the off-season, he worked at the YMCA.”

Shortly after his move to SD, Barnes met with Edwin Self, this magazine’s founder and then-editor. In his autobiography, Barnes describes Self challenging him to write and illustrate an article detailing his feelings towards the violence in pro football:

I was thrilled and eagerly began the assignment, working all day at a typewriter in the time-worn “hunt and peck” method. At the end of the first week, I presented my manuscript to Mr. Self. After reading it through, he said, “Right! I think you’re onto something, Ernie. Write it over.” I went at it again, only to be told, “It’s better, Ernie. Now do it again.” I really wanted so badly to give up, but something prevented me from hanging it up. After a series of meetings and the subsequent rewrites, Mr. Self finally said, “Ernie, we have a good article. Now illustrate it.” When “Pro Football Is Not Dirty . . . On Purpose” appeared in San Diego Magazine, I was proud. Really proud.

The article ran across four pages in August 1964. Barnes also illustrated a number of other SDM stories in the ’60s, including one by legendary SD muckraker Harold Keen.

Today, when people talk about Ernie Barnes, they often start with The Sugar Shack—a 1970s depiction of a Black juke joint bursting with boogie and bliss that launched him into the crossroads of American culture. The painting was seen weekly in the credits of the popular ’70s CBS sitcom Good Times and was featured on the cover of Marvin Gaye’s 1976 album I Want You. Today, the original is owned by actor Eddie Murphy, who purchased it for $50,000 from the estate of Marvin Gaye after the singer’s death. It could, however, be worth 500 times that amount—a reproduction of The Sugar Shack done by Barnes sold at Christie’s in 2022 for more than $15 million.

Carter, who grew up seeing Barnes’ work on calendars and prints in countless living rooms, dorms, and dens, says The Sugar Shack holds a special place in his understanding of Barnes.

The piece captures what Carter calls “the joy of engagement,” a quality he says runs through all of Barnes’ art. “It feels so fun to have a relationship with a painting that is serious in its unseriousness,” Carter adds. “This is a painting you can kick it with, for real.”

But Barnes’ legacy isn’t just about The Sugar Shack. Following his retirement from the football field, he was named the official artist of the American Football League and later the official sports artist of the 1984 LA Olympics. His work was featured on additional legendary album covers from Curtis Mayfield, B.B. King, the Crusaders, and Donald Byrd. He was a true working artist, a rare feat for any painter, much less a Black painter whose career began before the passage of the Civil Rights Act.

Barnes called his style neo-mannerism, a nod to Renaissance Italian painters, but his work is also frequently associated with the Ashcan school, which focused on scenes of everyday life, often in poorer urban areas of the US in the early 1900s.

“His mentor [chairman of the art department at North Carolina College Ed Wilson] told him to slow down and pay attention to what’s right in front of him,” Carter explains. “To see a story even in something as simple as a shoe on the sidewalk.”

His approach gained him growing fame, even after his death in 2009.

“So many people know the work, even if they don’t know the artist,” Carter says. “The style is unforgettable, and it keeps finding ways to live on.”

Rodriguez echoes this sentiment, pointing to the enduring demand for Barnes’ paintings—as well as that record auction sale that introduced Barnes to a new audience.

“The art world finally became aware of him,” Rodriguez says. “He had a base of loyal collectors and followers, and now it’s all coming together. There are always new collectors coming in—athletes, celebrities, and people who grew up with Ernie Barnes’ art.”

Former NBA player and current LA Clippers coach Tyronn Lue recently purchased a Barnes original.

“The piece I purchased immediately resonated with me because it was a picture of a woman which conjured up thoughts of my mother and aunts and grandmother,” Lue told SDM. “I plan on adding more Ernie Barnes to my collection. Several of his basketball pieces, especially those in rural settings, remind me of my background and where I came from.”

Barnes’ work can be found on permanent view at museums around the country. Here in California, a sample of his work is currently on display at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art through February 18th.

But even as Barnes’ fame grows, San Diego remains an integral part of his story—a chapter that helped shape the man and the artist.

“San Diego was one of those places he always held in high regard because of the connections and the experiences he had there,” Rodriguez says.

The post The SD Chapter of Great American Artist and Athlete Ernie Barnes appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

January 2, 2025

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“Bigger works have a different type of presence,” says Nguyen, who goes by Nuge, an affectionate nickname lifted from a mispronunciation of his last name. “It can change the energy in a room.”

Nuge would know. The Boston-born artist began his career as an architect, studying the craft at Roger Williams University in Rhode Island. “It was a fulfilling experience for me because I love design. I love to draw and work with my hands—I got to build physical models for my designs,” he says. After he obtained his master’s, “I moved out to San Francisco, and then, right away, I realized that the world of architecture versus what life in school was like was completely different. For the entire process of designing a home and all the work that goes into it, the designing is maybe two percent of the process.”

After 18 months in SF, Nuge moved to an architecture firm in San Diego but found the work increasingly draining and creatively stifling. Desperate for an outlet, he took a weekend-long wood cutting board–making class, with ambitions of eventually crafting furniture. “That alone was one of the most gratifying feelings because, up until that point, I never got to own any part of the process,” he recalls. “But this simple cutting board—from the concept to the final product, all of it was mine. I was hooked.”

He began woodworking daily after his 9-to-5. Then, in 2016, he got laid off from the firm. He took it as an opportunity to pursue art more seriously. “I told myself—and also my mom—that if this didn’t work out in six months, I’d apply for more jobs in architecture and get back to the grind,” Nuge says.

One of his first clients was sales director Jeffrey Bitner, who gave him full creative license. As Nuge worked on the piece, the two became friends and eventually roommates in Del Mar. Nuge credits Bitner as a vital sounding board for his creative process—and the piece, with its rippling texture (inspired, Nuge explains, by rumpled bed sheets) and shiny, single-color paint that shows off the wood’s grain—would become emblematic of Nuge’s style.

“It’s almost like he’s had all of these ideas and thoughts running through his head his whole life, and, finally, everything was exploding out of him and he was able to start creating and getting all this stuff out and letting it flow,” Bitner recalls of the early days of Nuge’s practice. “You could just see the light inside of him.”

Others saw it, too. Steady sales at $10,000 to $25,000 per piece allowed Nuge to keep making art full-time. He placed his work at a number of galleries. Tiffany & Co. commissioned 10 pieces, displaying them at stores as near as Palo Alto and far-flung as Tokyo. In 2023, he landed his first museum show, a three-month exhibition at the Lancaster Museum of Art and History in LA County.

While he’s currently in the process of moving into his own dedicated space, since 2020, he’s crafted every piece in Miramar at the shared makers’ space Maketory—where Viper Pit finally slides into place, ready to be photographed.

Stepping back, Nuge’s assistant Ramirez floats a fingertip over the contours of the piece’s deep wood grain. “Sandblasting gave it that definition,” he explains.

Ramirez has been working with Nuge for three years. He helps Nuge carve, sand, sandblast, and paint his massive-scale pieces, which can take up to five months to complete. Albert Dawson, another employee who recently resigned to pursue an MFA, spent three years supporting Nuge’s efforts, too. But, while there is a long legacy of artists who have managed to ramp up production by delegating most of the labor to assistants—Rembrandt, Andy Warhol, Jeff Koons—that list won’t ever include Nuge.

“I love working,” he says. “If I’m not in the studio, I’m more like an art director, rather than an artist with my hands in it. I want to steer the creative ship.”

That’s also why, in addition to completing commissions for private collectors and the occasional corporate or business client, Nuge consistently dedicates time toward personal projects. “This past year, I made it a point to play with new materials,” he says.

In the aptly named Wiggle Room, for example, waves of epoxy clay squirm across a heathered terrain of blue-green felt. Nuge has expanded into ceramics, too, using wood to create textured silicon models that give his clay pieces the same grain and gravitas as his hallmark works. Piled on a table in one corner of the warehouse are ceramic structures a few feet tall, with interlocking sections reminiscent of vertebrae. Nuge plans to stack them into one massive pillar, he says, studying a minute fissure in one slab. “The cracks aren’t too bad,” he decides. He gestures toward another ceramic piece. “That has ’em, and that makes it look like an ancient ruin.”

His goal is to give commissioning clients an expanded reference point for the Nuge aesthetic. “Typically, they point to pieces I’ve made and say they want something like that,” he explains. “If I want people to ask me to make it, I have to make it first.”

However, not everyone is so prescriptive. Shane Foye, managing partner at jobsite management firm Discount Waste Inc. dba DW1, gave Nuge carte blanche on the two pieces he requested for his art-filled Georgia office, where Foye curates a sealed private collection.

“Normally, I wouldn’t do that, but you could tell that he cared about it probably more than anyone that’s ever going to get a piece from him. He wants that outcome to be perfect,” Foye explains. “For the first piece, I just sort of put it in his hand and said, ‘Is there something you’ve always wanted to create?’”

The result was Dreamland, a 72-inch-diameter, ash wood circle in varying shades of blue. Its 136 pieces form smaller, overlapping circles across the work, like a puddle disturbed by a soft rain.

“I consider him to be a very visionary thinker,” Foye adds. “He has [each piece] so crystal-clear in his head that the complexity to get it done is way more involved than he would ever portray. It seems so simple when he’s explaining it, but I can’t imagine the challenges he faces when producing [the work].”

Nuge doesn’t shy away from discussing the hard parts. “I don’t know why, but I thought that ceramics would be less labor-intensive and more Zen. And it has been the exact opposite of that,” he admits. “It’s so stressful. It’s even more finicky than wood.” Yet a key word comes up more than once: play.

In the studio, dressed in a respirator and a wood shaving–coated hoodie, his eyes a bit red from flying sawdust, Nuge wears the evidence of his efforts all over him. But there’s a joy to him, a palpable “I can’t believe I get to do this for a living” energy, that makes it look fun.

“I’ve been playing with [clay] for a year now and I’m absolutely in love with it, and because it’s a challenge, it makes me wanna learn it more,” he says. “Architecture was very restraining and hard-lined and rigid. So I feel like my path as an artist is almost a rebellion to that entire aspect.”

The post Artist Nuge’s Work is a Rebellion Against His Architectural Background appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

We gotta address the name. Yeah, it means rooster in French. And, yeah, it’s pronounced the way you think it is. How I feel about that doesn’t matter as much as how La Jolla feels about it. Let’s not over-stereotype. I know many advisory-boarding La Jollans who don’t wilt under the burden of a porny curse word. But there is a deep culture of manners and social restraint here; you get the feeling that tawdry newcomers find themselves with a surprising amount of audits and parking tickets.

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Yet the name is true to Puffer Malarkey, the restaurant group behind Le Coq and three of the city’s best spots of the last decade: Herb & Wood, Herb & Sea, and Animae. From the get-go, its MO has been to build elaborate, high-end restaurants and then lightly or cartoonishly mock the haughty decorum of high-end restaurants. (Herb & Wood famously has a middle-finger sculpture, handed to the worst guest of the night with much fanfare.)

Le Coq is the group’s final grand effort, a victory lap from an operator (Chris Puffer) and chef (Brian Malarkey) unafraid to make sex a central theme. (The duo’s other restaurants will continue to evolve, but Malarkey told SDM this is their last one as a team in San Diego.) The Parisian steakhouse features James Beard nominee and Animae exec chef Tara Monsod. Monsod is a formidable talent and force of good in San Diego’s food scene. And the location brings Puffer Malarkey full circle. When the duo started almost 20 years ago with restaurants named after textiles (Searsucker was the first), they turned this former auto shop—a lovely, spacious hangar—into Herringbone. That concept was sold, but the gents always wanted it back, standing outside its window like boombox-era John Cusacks.

Inside, erotic art photos line the walls. Surprisingly, they’re not large-format, but small prints, clustered into little lust farms. The restraint is unexpected. It must have killed them not to turn one of Robert Mapplethorpe’s most socially fire-setting nudes into 3,000 square feet of wallpaper and shrink wrap the whole shebang. And the carpet—Le Coq has casino flooring, so thick and luxurious it might have a sleep number. I haven’t seen a carpet this loamy since the ’80s, when a padded bottom was a restaurant status symbol. The softer the underfoot, the more spendy the baked Alaska.

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Designers removed those famed Herringbone trees from the dining room. Honestly, I’d ask for them back. Without them or something like them to create distinct parts of the room, it feels like an ornate wedding hall—one giant eating space, wide open with all of us kind of rawly looking at each other. It seems they only changed the bottom half of the restaurant, keeping the top rustic-historic Herringbone (wooden rafters, exposed air ducts, faded brick walls) and turning the bottom into what looks like a very nice Golden Nugget (velvet booths, a massive curtain that appears to be mylar or Bjork’s dress from Coachella). It’s a design mullet: hard-working Americana up top, glitzy flesh party below.

Resist the urge to complain about Le Coq’s prices on the internet. Too late for some of you. This is a high-end steakhouse in an era when the cost of ingredients has never been higher, with one of the country’s top young chefs, and the group spent millions on creating a memorable space. Cross-checking menus, it’s reasonably priced for the game being played—around the same as Steak 48 and maybe even a bit lower than indie favorite Cowboy Star. (For PR’s sake, I’d probably not charge $20 for a taste of four sauces. While I respect the art and time that goes into them—a thick bearnaise, a silky chicken glacé, a potent anchovy herb oil, and an incredible bordelaise—some steakhouses automatically include sauces. Tuck that cost into the steak itself. Proclaiming in print you’re charging five bucks per drizzle feels like an optics issue.)

Assuming restaurants are sourcing the best dry-aged money can buy and know how to sear and properly temp, steaks don’t differentiate steakhouses. Apps and sides do.

Dinner starts with a warm baguette with Pamplie butter. Made in western France, slow-churned in a barrel, fermented for 48 hours using a recipe that’s been unchanged for 120 years, and protected by the French government—well, it’s one of the best butters on the planet, with more fat than most American butter (84 percent versus 81). The restaurant offers chicken-skin butter as well, but I’d stick with the pure form.

Monsod’s tuna tartare is a fantastic taste of local waters. On paper, raw tuna in cream sounds like a fairly indigestible idea, but we’ve been slathering all kinds of dairy manifestations on seafood since the beginning of reason—mayo for a sushi roll’s krabby center, Thomas Keller’s butter jacuzzis for lobster, you name it. Monsod’s cubes of sushi-grade ahi come with crème fraîche and horseradish, then get acidified with pickled gooseberries. It’s a dinner cousin to lox and cream cheese, minus the bagel. It’s actually so soupy it could use some form of bread, like toast points (the bagel of steakhouses).

“Head cheese” is arguably the least appetizing phrase in the history of food, all due respect to “moist.” It’s an iconic art form of European food culture, rarely cooked for American audiences since we have some pretty arbitrary food hangups. It’ll always baffle me that most Americans will gobble hot dogs like baseball breath mints, but organ meats in any other form are seen as mouth crimes.

Monsod delicately fries her head cheese into a croquette. Smart move. Frying is how chefs do the “choo choo… here comes the train” trick to get guests to embrace intimidating foods (think calamari). Head meat will always taste like it just got done with a vigorous workout, and it’s up to you if you like that funk or not. I crave it. Most American food is an offensive deluge of inoffensiveness, a sleepwalking cuisine of breast meat and subs and cheese sauces and medium salsas. That boredom drives us to the pricklier charms of lamb and duck and liver and foods that taste like they have an opinion. Monsod’s croquette—Thompson Heritage pork (an incredible local ranch) with sauce gribiche (a thick, cold, creamy French predecessor to tartar sauce, a fusion of hard-boiled eggs and mustard)—is an opinion well-executed (it takes a full week to make).

Le Coq’s celery salad is a shocking winner. Welcome to the crunchiest salad you’ll ever eat. Celery is always the backup dancer for great food, an underdog sautéed into anonymity at the bottom of a mirepoix; stuck playing the plucky, uneaten sidekick to a chicken wing. Monsod gives it the stage, albeit topped with a party-wig amount of the famed semi-hard cheese P’tit Basque. With golden raisins and celery seed vinaigrette, it’s a weird, willful, Provençal kind of idea, best eaten with a cinematic slow-clap and “Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!” in your head.

Order the steak frites if only to try Monsod’s au poivre. Done wrong, au poivres can taste of booze and bitterness (sometimes from burnt butter or from cooking in reactive pans like a cast iron). Hers is textbook. Concede all your self-governance to this sauce.

Creamed spinach is simultaneously the weary foot soldier of the steakhouse industry and one of America’s warmest and deepest food emotions. Monsod’s is excellent because of the onion soubise—a thick, smooth, French sauce in which onions are cooked in butter, then puréed with heavy cream or bechamel.

Other standouts are the sweet-sour riff on a rack of lamb, which offers a far more creative take than the usual chimichurri—with kalamata olives and French sorrel, plums and pickled grapes. When it comes to the mussels, everything (meat, bread) is merely vessel for the star: the broth. Usually, it’s wine and herbs and cream and, in San Diego, chorizo. But here the chef gives us wine and blue cheese (similar to a southern France idea called Roquefort sauce). It is magic. White wine and blue cheese and silky mussel meat are like charcuterie masquerading as a warm bowl of comfort.

For dessert, you have to try the Paris–Brest—a French pastry classic rarely seen in modern rooms. Shaped like a bicycle wheel (pastry chef Louis Durand of the famed Pâtisserie Durand created it in homage to the Paris–Brest–Paris bike race), it’s baked pâte à choux (cream puff pastry) split in half, filled with pistachio crème mousseline, and studded with caramelized pistachios and powdered sugar.

Back to the sex. Feels like it belongs in a steakhouse, both being fleshy desires and whatnot. Maybe La Jolla could benefit from a touch of risqué. Or maybe the planning group’s pitchforks smell of kerosene. As of writing, there’s no external marquee that says “Le Coq,” so perhaps a treaty has been signed.

The post Restaurant Review: Le Coq appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

January | February | March | April | May

January Arts Events in San Diego

Foto(grafia) (Part I)

Studio Door

January 8–February 8

Presented in conjunction with the Bureau of Queer Art, this exhibition champions photographers who transcend standard digital methods. Winning shots will be on display at two galleries—one in Mexico City and Hillcrest’s Studio Door—and online at Artsy.net.

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Bioluminescence Chaconne

San Diego Symphony

January 10–11

California-based French conductor Ludovic Morlot opens his command of the symphony at the Jacobs Music Center with this piece by Californian composer Gabriella Smith, inspired by the glowy ocean phenomenon.

Gosia Herc

Best Practice

January 11–February 15

An alumna of UCSD’s visual arts program, teaching artist Gosia Herc’s practice explores collecting, archiving, voyeurism, and vandalism at beloved Barrio Logan artists’ hideout Best Practice.

Ethan Chan & David Peña

Institute of Contemporary Art North

January 18—July 27

Good Faith Gallery partners with the Institute of Contemporary Art to support local artists with a six-month residency at the former’s Sherman Heights studio. The 2024 recipients are Ethan Chan, whose sculptures and performances embrace kitsch, and mixed-media artist David Peña, whose work reflects his Mexican-American heritage.

Once

Lamb’s Players Theatre

January 21–March 30

Sure, guy meets girl has been done—but not to music like this. Adapted from the Irish film written by The Frames frontman Glen Hansard, this re-staging of the Coronado theater’s 2018 production brings back nearly all its original cast members.

San Diego International Jewish Film Festival

Throughout San Diego County

January 27–February 8

Sponsored by the San Diego Center for Jewish Culture, this week-long celebration of cinema celebrating and honoring Jewish lives and culture rings in its 35th year.

Some Like It Hot

Broadway San Diego

January 28–February 2

This Tony-winning musical based on the classic Marilyn Monroe flick follows two down-on-their-luck male musicians who disguise themselves as women to join a girl band and escape the mafia members chasing them down

February Arts Events in San Diego

Women in Focus

Museum of Photographic Arts

February 1–July 13

This exhibit features pieces from the San Diego Museum of Art’s permanent collection of peerless images from the literal female gaze, featuring photographers like Margaret Bourke-White, Dorothea Lange, and Imogen Cunningham.

Wicked

Broadway San Diego

February 5–March 2

Grab your broomstick and your vocal coach, because the witches of Oz are returning to San Diego, hot on the ruby-studded heels of the Hollywood blockbuster. Broadway San Diego offers a chance to see this unlikely friendship play out live.

Other Desert Cities

Cygnet Theatre

February 5–March 2

Christmas in Palm Springs brings the heat for the Wyeth family as semi-estranged daughter Brooke returns, carting a tell-all memoir that threatens to pull them apart, thanks to opposing political views and a dark family secret.

Working Title No. 4

PROJECT [BLANK]

February 6–8

The fourth iteration of this annual mixed media showcase brings a swath of experimental art and music from Baja and San Diego to St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral in Bankers Hill, all dwelling upon the theme of “rituals.”

Ruud van Empel: Theater

San Diego Museum of Art

February 8–July 27

This Dutch photographer brings the outdoors to Kodachrome life as he visits nature’s playgrounds, from botanical gardens in his native Netherlands to California’s Joshua Tree National Park.

Empty Ride

The Old Globe

February 8–March 2

UC San Diego MFA grad Keiko Green penned this poignant, brand-new play about a painter who takes over her father’s job as a taxi driver in the wake of the tsunami that devastated Japan in 2011.

3 Summers of Lincoln

La Jolla Playhouse

February 8–March 23

This world-premiere musical set in the summer of 1862 sees Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass hash out the future of America over a soundtrack that blends gospel, R&B, and pow- erhouse anthems. Watch out, Hamilton.

Afra Eisma

Institute of Contemporary Art Central

February 15–June 1

Dutch textile artist Afra Eisma’s first California solo show at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Balboa Park displays her immersive, yarn-based installations.

Ritmos Latinos: Carnival of the Animals & Tangata

San Diego Ballet

February 15

Employing a new jazz arrangement by local band leader Gilbert Castellanos, Carnival of the Animals sees ballet through a Latin lens, while Tangata combines ballet and tango.

Lamoise New Works Festival

Moxie Theatre

February 15–16

New works from women and nonbinary playwrights undergo a two-week-long workshop at Rolando’s femme-focused theater. The festival culminates in a free weekend of performance featuring staged readings, one-acts, and a full musical.

For the People: Modernist Printmaking in Mexico

San Diego Museum of Art

February 15–August 10

This exhibit includes 20 modernist prints from Mexican and international artists helping to combat the global rise of fascism through art.

San Diego Latino Film Festival

Citywide

February 19–23

The 32nd SDLFF continues its mission to amplify Latino voices through cinema. To date, the fest has welcomed over 350,000 attendees and screened over 4,000 films and videos from across Latin America and the US.

London Symphony Orchestra with Yunchan Lim

La Jolla Music Society

February 21

The international piano prodigy plays Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 and Mahler’s First Symphony with the world-renowned London Symphony Orchestra, led by Sir Antonio Pappano, Musical America’s 2024 conductor of the year.

March Arts Events in San Diego

Swan Lake Act II

City Ballet of San Diego

March 8–12

It’s like the “Skip Intro” button for the well-heeled: Fast-forward to the good stuff for the iconic ballet’s second act and second act only. Watch the saga of Odette and Prince Siegfried the way Netflix intended.

Matt Devine: Walk with Me

Oceanside Museum of Art

March 1–July 6

This sculpture artist wields stain-less steel, aluminum, and bronze to create pieces with a lightness and motion that belie their heavy, inorganic materials.

Curtains

Coronado Playhouse

March 7–30

The writing duo behind Chicago brings together murder, mystery, and musical theater in this meta whodunnit that scored the Broadway production eight Tony awards, including Best Musical.

Anna Garner

Best Practice

March 8–April 12

You’ll recognize cartoon and slap-stick tropes in artist Anna Garner’s works that meld sculpture, performance art, and videography.

Salome

San Diego Opera

March 21–23

In 1905, composer Richard Strauss cribbed Oscar Wilde’s original play and shaped it into a taut one-act opera rife with dramatic arias. This dark, erotic spectacle tells the biblical tale of Salome sung in German, with English and Spanish subtitles.

Ballet Folklórico de México de Amalia Hernández

La Jolla Music Society

March 23

Founded over 70 years ago, this troupe of world-class dancers honoring their Mexican heritage is still stunning audiences with elaborate dress, traditional choreography, and deft technique.

La Havana Madrid

New Village Arts

March 21–April 27

The Conrad Prebys Performing Arts Center transforms into the 1960s Chicago hangout La Havana Madrid, a nucleus for newly planted Latino immigrants to dine, dance, and commune. Hear their stories and songs as written by Sandra Delgado.

True West

The Roustabouts Theatre Co.

March 27–April 13

See tension steam between brothers Austin and Lee in Sam Shepard’s brooding yet funny masterwork that explores the fragile line between civilization and chaos.

April Arts Events in San Diego

Regency Girls

The Old Globe

April 2–May 4

From the writers of Seinfeld and the director of Spamalot, this world-premiere musical is a Victorian road trip for those in a sticky wicket. A pregnant, unmarried heroine and her best friends traverse the 19th-century English country-side to find the one woman who might offer a chance to change her fate.

San Diego International Fringe Festival

Citywide

April 15–25

More than 50 free and low-cost local, national, and international shows pop up across San Diego as part of this free-for-all festival that eschews censorship and juries to give artists a voice.

Peril in the Alps

North Coast Repertory Theatre

April 16–May 11

Mystery abounds in the après-ski vibe of the Alps as a detective searches for the missing Dulcie in this world-premiere play based on Agatha Christie’s Poirot Investigates.

Without Walls Festival

Citywide

April 24–27

La Jolla Playhouse’s WOW is a four-day festival of theater, dance, and immersive experiences across the UCSD campus, with a slew of international, national, and local performers parading their craft in outside-the-black-box settings.

The Mountain Song

Coronado Playhouse

April 25–May 18

Pairing a folk-tinged score with inventive puppetry and a family-friendly storyline, this “Theatre For Young Audiences” production follows a carpenter who climbs mountains in search of his daughter’s wedding.

La traviata

San Diego Opera

April 25–27

Giuseppe Verdi’s classic opera chronicles the love affair of courtesan Violetta Valéry and young nobleman Alfredo Germont. Despite their passion and commitment, social mores of the 19th century confine their love to tragedy.

Ventana Huichola

Oceanside Museum of Art

April 26–September 21

Artist Natalie Gonzales led community members in the creation of tsikuri, wooden crosses woven with yarn, to create this exhibition that honors the Mexican Huichol community.

Mission Fed ArtWalk

Little Italy

April 26–27

Highlighting over 250 artist-vendors from the US and Mexico, this two-day festival creates a walkable (and shoppable!) museum in Little Italy.

May Arts Events in San Diego

Carmen & Divertimento No. 15

City Ballet of San Diego

May 3–4

To close out its 32nd season, the City Ballet of San Diego presents two back-to-back one-acts: Carmen, the tale of a spicy, Spanish love triangle, and Divertimento No. 15, set to a beloved composition by Mozart.

Hamilton

Broadway San Diego

May 6–18

Forget AP US History class—we’ve got Hamilton. Rap along to the modern soundtrack (we know you know the words) as Lin-Manuel Miranda’s smash-hit saga of founding father drama plays out.

Merry Me

Diversionary Theatre

May 8–June 15

The West Coast premiere of this sexy, sapphic farce appears at University Heights’ LGBTQ theater, chronicling a marooned navy’s wild adventures near enemy territory.

Romeo et Juliet

San Diego Ballet

May 17

San Diego Ballet Artistic Director Javier Velasco brings piques and pointe shoes to the Bard’s tragic tale of puppy love gone awry.

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