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On view at Mingei International Museum now through October 18, Thompson's basketry invites viewers to notice the seemingly mundane
When was the last time you really looked at your fridge? Not for milk or ketchup or that takeout you hope is still good, but really looked at it. Considered it. Its texture. Its shape. Its role in your life. “Never” is probably your answer here. But once you’ve seen India Thompson’s life-size fridge made of reed, you’ll probably pause the next time you’re in your kitchen.
Thompson’s new Looks Like Home exhibit on view at Mingei International Museum takes everyday items that most of us use on a daily basis—the things that usually make our lives faster and more convenient—and renders them useless but beautiful as intricately woven reed sculptures.
The museum’s name comes from the philosophy of Yanagi Sōetsu, who wrote in the essay “The Beauty of Miscellaneous Things” that “when one becomes too familiar with a sight, one loses the ability to truly see it. Habit robs us of the power to perceive anew, much less the power to be moved.”
Thompson joins artists who use material transformation to remake the familiar, like Katarina Kamprani who redesigns everyday objects in ways that render them physically unusable, or Do Ho Suh who recreates domestic spaces through labor-intensive processes. Thompson’s approach is quieter, more tender: She doesn’t distort. She weaves.

Seeing her work for the first time brought up emotions I hadn’t felt since I was a kid watching The Brave Little Toaster, the movie that taught me to hold space for the invisible servants that make up our homes. Thompson’s collection encourages a kind of reckoning with what it means to ignore the essential. It asks you to reconsider what “home” means in an era where so few can afford to buy one. Her sculptures are like a challenge to pause where you usually press on. Being close to her work is like taking a breath and not realizing how long you’ve been holding it.
Thompson was born in Los Angeles and is now a multidisciplinary artist based in San Diego. While ceramic is her primary artistic medium, this exhibition highlights her exploration of basketry—a thousand-year-old, time-consuming process and an art form she describes as one of “care and memory-keeping.”
Thompson also happens to 9-to-5 as Mingei’s studio program specialist. Assistant Curator Ariana Torres didn’t know about Thompson’s basketry work until she saw Thompson post a picture of her woven toilet paper on Instagram. Then came a woven microwave.
“It seemed really poignant and uncanny,” Torres says. “It was mundane, but it was also kind of quiet … something you wouldn’t think anybody would focus on.”

Thompson began making art five years ago in her college ceramic class called Handbuilding, and she immediately fell in love. The first art she ever shared with others were her ceramic figurines: round, red-clayed pot-like sculptures with minimalist, barely-there faces in a variety of expressions. Some look surprised. Some look very concerned. Some look like they spend Friday nights at a Star Wars cantina. She calls them “Moots.”
The definition of the English word moot, in verb form, is “to gather and discuss an important topic,” as Thompson explains. “They look so serious … like they’ve wriggled through the earth to talk to each other.”
Thompson found her way to basketry three years ago and learned by watching YouTube videos.
“It’s something you can do at home,” she says. “And I love a repetitive process.”
The toilet paper roll came to her while making a cylinder that she thought looked like a roll of Charmin. Then she thought maybe she should make one on purpose. “I just thought it would be funny and really challenging, too,” she says. “Because there’s no tutorial for that. Why would there be, right?”
She figured it out and shared it on Instagram. People loved it. It received more than double the amount of likes and comments she usually got, but what really struck her was how many people came up to her in person to talk about how they connected with it. That, to her, was even more meaningful than the online response.
So she kept going and chose to make a microwave next.

“[It’s an] object we all own and we all need,” she says. “Yet no one really cares about a microwave.”
She started the collection during a time when her landlord was coming into her apartment constantly with a crew of people, making notes of what they were going to remodel without ever acknowledging her in the room.
“It was such a weird fishbowl moment,” she says. “I technically don’t own my apartment, but I still consider it home. I live here and I pay to live here, but this isn’t mine. We live in this space and I call it my apartment. I call it my refrigerator. But it could be taken away at any moment.”
It dawned on her how much we depend on things we don’t own, how little we notice the things we rely on every day, and how temporal the word “my” can be.
The woven refrigerator is the largest in Thompson’s collection at Mingei, and inside it you can find additional woven items like a ranch bottle, a Brita filter, and a sandwich on a plate. You can’t open the freezer door, but if you look carefully between the gaps of woven reed, you might be able to see a few other things Thompson made and placed inside.
“If you really look closely,” she explains, “you’ll be rewarded.”
Outside the Lens puts cameras in the hands of local youth, giving them the tools to capture their communities from the inside
Big feelings hit us all. Younger populations—or those who haven’t yet developed their own language of expression—outsource angst through external means. That’s where homemade haircuts, studded belts, and musicians like The Cure, Elliott Smith, or Phoebe Bridgers come around. In San Diego, though, there’s a nonprofit that gives youth a way to feel not only heard, but also understood, through photography and digital storytelling.
Outside The Lens’ mission is to amplify the voices of systemically marginalized young people and help them develop the confidence (and artistry) to tell their stories and shape their communities. OTL just celebrated its 25th anniversary earlier this year with dual exhibitions of student work at San Diego Central Library and Museum of Contemporary of Art San Diego. Since 2001, more than 30,000 students have completed programs at OTL, getting their hands on industry-respected DSLR cameras (no shade to iPhone photographers), editing files and images with Adobe Creative Suite, and recording podcasts. Participants explore their worlds through the lens and on the mic.
“Our biggest opportunity, and what’s really needed, is to bridge the understanding between the youth and their communities and how people are seeing what youth are going through right now,” says OTL Executive Director Sarah Beckman.
OTL’s participants, Beckman explains, are young people navigating systems that never gave them access to the tools and mentorship that inspire creative expression, financial mobility, and civic engagement. The nonprofit offers support—in the form of meals, transportation, and healing-centered educators—and a creative outlet for exploring and coping with those challenges.
OTL’s in-school programs meet California core standards for arts and partners with at least 37 schools and community sites throughout San Diego, including the Monarch School in Barrio Logan, East County Community School in El Cajon, and Creative Performing and Media Arts School in Clairemont Mesa. The nonprofit doesn’t just work within the school system. Its Media Makers program invites young adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities to express their place and purpose in the world through film, photography, animation, design, and entrepreneurship.
“We’re always asking the question, and we’re engaging youth in our civic discussions [of], ‘How can we make this city somewhere youth want to be?’” Beckman says. “‘How can we make San Diego somewhere for young people to build a future?’”
This year OTL’s annual Voice Out celebration event spotlighted student work that hung on gallery walls beside “Giants,” the Dean Collection at MCASD. The Voice Out contest is open to all San Diego youth ages 8 to 25; all submissions are published in a catalogue and displayed in a public exhibition. These are some of the students’ works, and their words, from the past three years of Voice Out.

“I wonder how the architect decided to connect the beams [at Del Norte High School] by creating repetition. Without color [in the photo], the structure becomes the focus of the image.” –Monroe S., 15

“Every day, time slips forward, whether we notice it or not, and life can feel overwhelming in its constant motion. In this long-exposure photograph, the blurred train rushes past, symbolizing the speed of life, while the still subject remains grounded and aware. It’s easy to become tangled in society’s expectations: what to wear, what grades to earn, what future to chase. In that rush, we forget to pause. The stillness in this image becomes a breath, a moment of reflection. Through it, I hope to show that wonder lives in slowing down, in watching the world blur while choosing, even briefly, to stand still.” –Leo N., 15

“Teenagers constantly wonder if they will ever be enough. I wrote words on the mirror that might represent what a teenager thinks about when it comes to being ‘enough’ for the people around them. They might wonder if they are pretty, smart, or good enough. I wanted to bring attention to what thoughts teenagers struggle with in everyday life.” –Illiana I., 16

“I took this picture during Go Skate Day in 2023 or 2024 I think … but who cares? It’s sick! Keep riding!” –Danny I., 18

“This was taken at an all-women’s retreat in the mountains to heal inner trauma, at the end of the trip where we all hugged each other and healed. My mother is the one being hugged and one of her friends is embracing her. Place is somewhere you belong, somewhere you feel comfortable in, and somewhere you can be yourself. I believe womanhood and friendship is not only a place but home.” –Michelle G., 16
Leorah Gavidor won her first essay contest at age 5. She writes features, news, and non-fiction in San Diego.
From celebrity pickleball tournaments to intimate dinner parties with your favorite Food Network chefs, here are all of the can’t-miss events going on Sept 30–Oct 4
Play is underrated. Somewhere along the way, someone decided it was something we should outgrow. That you A good song comes on, and they dance. A game appears, and they’re in. Someone hands them a melting ice cream cone, and somehow it’s the best part of the day.
Adults tend to need a reason. Or maybe just the right setting.
That’s part of what makes the Del Mar Wine & Food Festival feel different. Yes, the week revolves around food and wine, with celebrated chefs, winemakers, and restaurants drawing crowds from across the region. But what lingers afterward is the conversations that stretch a little longer than expected, the strangers who become dinner companions, the live music that pulls people out of their seats, and the rare chance to spend a few hours simply enjoying yourself without much of an agenda.
The Grand Tasting is the festival’s centerpiece, bringing thousands of guests together over two days for hundreds of bites and pours. But some of the week’s most memorable experiences happen on a smaller scale. In the days leading up to the main event, intimate dinners, chef collaborations, and guided tastings create opportunities for guests to interact more closely with the people behind the food and wine and with each other.
Here’s your guide to the 2026 Del Mar Wine & Food Festival happening September 30–October 4.

Start festival week the San Diego way: ocean views, Baja-inspired bites, and a drink in hand as the sun goes down. The Signature San Diego Opening Night Party at Monarch Ocean Pub sets the tone for the week ahead with a walk-around tasting experience celebrating the flavors that make this city impossible to replicate. It’s an evening of fresh coastal cuisine, bold Mexican flavors, Baja seafood, and plenty of local favorites—all served against one of Del Mar’s most iconic backdrops. Consider it your first official toast to the weekend ahead…

Wine and competition make an unexpectedly perfect pair. You can join Drew Brees and celebrity players at Barnes Tennis Center for a pickleball tournament benefiting Feeding San Diego, where the sidelines are just as exciting as the court. Grab a paddle, cheer from the sidelines, or simply enjoy a glass of wine while the action unfolds. The day blends friendly competition with an all-inclusive tasting experience.
Since year one, Del Mar Wine & Food Festival has partnered with Feeding San Diego to raise $100,000 in support of the organization’s mission to fight hunger across the region. Every serve, sip, and bite helps give back to the community that makes this festival possible.
Remember that pickleball paddle you swore you’d use? Time to put it to work.

This is essentially a passport to Spain with no airport required. Set among the lush grounds of Rancho Valencia, Rioja Uncorked celebrates one of Spain’s most iconic wine regions with an evening of exceptional pours and thoughtfully paired bites. Guests will sip their way through Rioja wines while enjoying a menu featuring everything from Hiramasa crudo and uni toast to duck rillette, birria mini tacos, Cardiff Crack tri-tip sandwiches, and a sweet finale from Karen Krasne of Extraordinary Desserts (date night plans, solved).

Justin Wine Dinner sounds simple: three chefs, one unforgettable table. But chefs Kaitlyn Weber (Estancia La Jolla), Buddha Lo (Top Chef), and Jackson Kalb (Top Chef) are taking you on a one-night-only culinary ride where three styles collide over a multi-course menu paired with exceptional pours from Justin Vineyards & Winery. Set in Estancia’s coastal estate, the evening unfolds course by course with pairings from Justin wines as each chef brings their own style to a menu focused on craft, connection, and a bit of friendly culinary overlap. It’s the kind of culinary conversation that only happens when very, very talented people cook together.

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.
Whether you love theater, music, dance, or public art, these are the cultural experiences that stood out this year
Arts District Liberty Station officially became one of the state’s designated cultural districts, joining a list reserved for places with thriving creative communities. Considering the campus is home to more than 100 galleries, artist studios, museums, and arts organizations—not to mention The Joan, the 42,000-square-foot performance center housing Cygnet Theatre—it was only a matter of time until the district got its flowers.
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. The National City Public Works building has been a target of graffiti artists for years, only to be constantly painted over (and the cycle restarts). Now, it’s working with the local artists from Vision Culture Foundation to create intentional public murals. A win-win in our book.
One of the biggest questions this year is who will show up for San Diego arts and culture—so a Best Of nod goes to a nonprofit that’s been doing it for years. Founded by longtime arts advocate Susanna Peredo Swap, Vanguard Culture has staged events for creatives, told their stories, and just created an SD ARTS Pass—a single ticket that gets you access to 39 creative spots.

Ballet’s already got a sort of otherworldly thing going for it, with people morphing into 90-degree angles and defying gravity with each pirouette. The Rosin Box Project feels like a raw, creative new force in the classic art form, though—especially with its annual Ghost Light Masquerade. It’s a dance of eerie spirits that makes you second-guess what’s real and what’s not.
Once upon a time, Gallagher Square was just a grassy knoll behind the outfield wall at Petco Park. Now, it’s a concert venue, playground, play ball field, dog park, and unofficial home for those who prefer the vibe of baseball more than the actual game. Big-time performers are showing up: Ms. Lauryn Hill, Cypress Hill, and Peach Pit.
Casa Casillas has filled a long-standing gap in Chula Vista’s art scene. Open since last August, the space gives local artists a dedicated venue to display their work and visitors a chance to explore the neighborhood’s vibrant art. Two rotating resident artists always keep the space moving, so it rarely looks the same twice.

El Cajon translates to “the box” in Spanish—a nod to the city’s surrounding hills—but Alley Cat Art Fest (previously called Artivál) doesn’t stay inside it. As the first arts festival in East County, it celebrates local galleries, sculpture, live music, and food trucks—the whole nine.
Every second Saturday, Barrio Logan turns into a choose-your-own-adventure with the Barrio Art Crawl, a free self-guided art tour through galleries, museums, and murals, with street food and music filling in the gaps. Barrio is one of the city’s most thriving arts neighborhoods, and it’s worth getting a bit lost in.
MCASD is showcasing two powerhouse exhibits—Giants: Art from the Dean Collection of Swizz Beatz and Alicia Keys and The Dean Collection Presents: Hometown Heroes. The pop music titans are highlighting local artists, with an intentional focus on diverse experiences. It was one of the biggest (and coolest) art openings of the year, and it closes August 9. So get on it.
Leave it to The Old Globe to give the local theater scene some Hollywood glamour. Katie Holmes led the premiere of Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler this past spring, turning the classic Norwegian play into one of the most buzzed-about theater productions of the year.
The 29-year-old culinary director at Herb & Sea is making seafood sexy (and approachable) again
Implementing a farm-to-table model hardly deserves acknowledgement these days. It’s not a stretch. It’s not innovative. “It’s the bare f**king minimum,” says Herb & Sea‘s executive chef Aidan Owens.
When I arrive at the Encinitas restaurant, I’m ready to talk sustainability, farm-to-table stuff, with Owens. “Did you see the chin on that?” he says of the extra big jiggly chin on the sheephead that just arrived with the day’s fresh catch. I did. It was Jay Leno adjacent.
I learn quickly that he somehow oozes both charm and stone-cold honesty. Maybe he could construct a new dish with chin goo, like he did when he had a bunch of tuna scraps and voila’d it into a smooth and crowd-pleasing ‘nduja. “I want to know what’s in there,” he says.

The instinct to look closer, to dig into what others might discard, says a lot about the chef’s approach. I guide him back to our topic, but he has something else on his mind. “We’re overcomplicating food—what happened to just cooking good food and having fun with it?”
Owens grew up on a farm in Byron Bay, Australia, where sustainability wasn’t a concept you chat about so much as a way of life. Think dirt roads, backyard chickens, pulling vegetables straight from the ground, and a mother who believed that if you couldn’t pronounce the ingredients on a package, you shouldn’t eat what was inside.
Food wasn’t precious or performative. Making it was what you did because you were hungry and that’s still what inspires Owens today. “I like to cook good food because I like to eat good food,” he says.
His approach to sustainability at Herb & Sea began so naturally that it felt just like instinct. “I was just like, ‘Let’s order food from the people who live and work here,’” he says.

And why wouldn’t he when lives in San Diego? Cities all over the world vie for our goods. Our tuna is sent overseas. Our spiny lobsters hit dinner plates in China and Japan. Not to mention California’s producing a third of the country’s vegetables and three-quarters of its fruits and nuts.
“Why would we outsource when it’s all here?” Owens asks.
Sustainability, in this context, is about cooking what exists in abundance, nearby, right now. “I love the local fish here. It’s f**king delicious and San Diego citrus, I mean, it is so f**ing good,” he says.
Instead of importing ingredients, Owens also looks for nearby alternatives. “You can find really cool things in the local waters,” he says, pointing out that stingray cheeks taste similar to scallops.

Whatever he finds in that sheephead chin might just be the next substitute for marrow. But to make this work, it means getting diners amped up about the slightly unfamiliar.
Tasting menus, where diners are completely in his hands, become an opportunity to gently push boundaries. “I’ll serve mackerel, because people think they hate it,” Owens says, noting that the abundant local fish can have some fishiness. “But when it’s fresh, it’s arguably one of the best fish in the ocean.”
He also tweaks the language on the menu so people might feel more compelled to give dishes a try without preconceived notions. He might use “lengua” instead of “tongue.” “Whelk” instead of “snail.” When he puts “stingray throat” on the menu, he disarmingly calls it “skate.”
To reduce waste, scraps aren’t always discarded but rather turned into something new. Sometimes they’re smoked, cured or fermented. Apples going bad turn into apple ponzu. Lemons turn to marmalade, which stretches their usefulness far beyond peak season. “And it’s super tasty on our pizza,” he says.
What makes the food even richer, is the relationships he’s built with farmers. Though it didn’t always feel natural, Owens sought personal connection first. He recalls approaching a fisherman at the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market. “I was awkward,” he says. “I went up to him and said, ‘I like your fish.’”
Owen’s is now so close to his suppliers—like fishermen Ryan Sebo and Joe Daly—that he gets texted pictures of fresh catches right as they flop on the boat. The messages always ask if he wants first dibs. “I say yes to a lot of fish,” Owens says, noting that Herb & Sea can go through 2,000 pounds of seafood a week.

The next evolution of sustainability, in his view, will be chefs working directly with producers such as his alliance with Sebo, cutting out middlemen and purveyors where possible. “It will put more money in the pockets of the people doing the work,” he says.
It will mean that chefs can’t just know their local farmers and producers, but they’ll choose to work with the ones who have the best practices. Dining and sustainability will become much less about the final plate. “It will be more about the impact that plate has on the Earth,” he says.
Ultimately, he believes sustainability doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need hashtags. It just needs to be honest.
“We aren’t saving lives. We’re feeding people good food,” he says.
And yet, in feeding people well—simply, thoughtfully, responsibly—something meaningful happens. Guests leave satisfied. Ingredients are respected. Local ecosystems are supported and food returns to what it has always been at its core: nourishment, pleasure, and a quiet reflection of the place it comes from.
No buzzwords required.
From neighborhood milestones to citywide movements, this issue celebrates the stories that shaped San Diego over the past year
In April, Swizz Beatz and Alicia Keys climbed onto the rooftop of Arts-Rec in Barrio Logan.
Beatz, who has produced some of the biggest artists of the last few decades (DMX, Beyoncé, Lil Wayne), lugged up his turntables and flipped the switch. Keys stood nearby, absolutely grooving. Then she launched into “No One,” singing to the fairly massive crowd below.
Pop stars didn’t have to show up. But they did. And it lifted Chicano Park Day—an important cultural anniversary for the city—into national headlines. Local photographer and videographer Zack Mack was on the roof when it happened, and captured the scene: Keys full of emotion, serenading the people who gathered to support one of our favorite neighborhoods in San Diego. Mack’s an SD native who cut his teeth shooting videos while street skating, and is friends with one of the owners of Arts-Rec, which has become an arts-skate-culture-community hub on Logan Avenue.
We chose the image for the cover because it was a fairly beautiful moment for the people of the city. A needle moved. And this issue is dedicated to those needle moments.
“Best of San Diego” isn’t a “point at cool things and tell people to go” list. We dug through the past year’s headlines—international, national, local, down to each neighborhood. We talked about the major issues facing the city, what laws were passed, what pockets of culture evolved, what days will be remembered and meant something to people who live here. Then we chose people, places, and things that are a compelling/positive/best example of those cultural notes.
For instance, live events are booming as people try to reconnect in real life. So we point to venues and annual events that nailed it—plus one dreamer who’s seen busking at every major public gathering. As the legal debate over e-bikes escalates, we highlight the pedal-powered dirt bike track in Kearny Mesa run by a two-time world champion BMX pro. We frame the continued rise of women’s sports through a former Olympian who helps host the longest-running girls skate competition.
First we make a cultural roadmap, and then we find the inspiring things that speak to those moments. And we’re not the only ones chiming in. One part of being a San Diego Magazine editor is knowing when to shut up and let the locals speak. Months ago, we asked you, our readers, to submit your picks for the Best Of anything in San Diego in over 500 categories. Y’all showed up. We received nearly 134,000 votes. If you need recs on wedding venues, 5Ks, dermatologists, and everything in between, get them straight from your community with the reader-determined winners.
We hope it inspires you to find your rooftop and get on it.
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.
We the Commas are mixing surf, soul, alternative rock, and sibling chemistry into one unmistakable sound
Siblings make better music. That’s the hot take, and there’s some logic and science behind it. The Bee Gees, Jackson 5, Billie Eilish and Finneas, AC/DC, Van Halen, The Allman Brothers—heck, even the Hanson brothers, why not? Beyond just a shared sense of taste and nonverbal communication developed over decades of living and evolving together, there’s a thing called “blood harmony.” The genetically similar throat cavities, vocal cords, speech patterns, and resonant bone structures all blend each unique voice into a more homophonic sound than what comes out of two non-related singers.
Those throat cavities are working wonders for emerging San Diego band We the Commas—three brothers (from oldest to youngest) Lenny, Jordon, and Cam Comma.
Raised in Vista and Carlsbad, the family opted out of cable TV (video games got a pass). Without binge-watching to fill bored hours, the trio turned to music. Guitar Hero led to GarageBand and finally to live instruments—guitars for Lenny and Cam, drum set for Jordon. In their sound, the influence of Stevie Wonder, Erykah Badu, The Who, and Dave Matthews Band is obvious, and so is surf culture, specifically that laid-back chill of North County surf culture.
“We’re like the Black Beach Boys,” Cam says. (Note: Three of the five founding members of the Beach Boys were siblings—the theory gets stronger.)
Their debut EP pretty clearly lays out how they see their sound—titled SARB, an acronym for Surf Alternative R&B. That resonates in the song “Sherry,” with its easy-listening, windows-down-on-the-101 vibe. It also works in the louder, surf-punkier “Pissed Off.” Despite some advances in reducing core stereotyping tendencies, people still tend to autofill Black musicians into rap and R&B. The Comma brothers immediately circumvent that by declaring themselves out the gates.
“SARB makes it so [listeners are] open to all of the things that we want to do,” Lenny says. “From there, you can put a label on whatever you think it sounds like.”

People—and musicians further up the stream—are taking note. In 2023, they co-wrote the song “I Keep Fallin’” with Eric Cannata, guitarist for multi-platinum SoCal band Young the Giant. In early 2024, they were tapped to open the national tour of Brooklyn’s jazz-pop heroes, Sammy Rae & The Friends. Comedian Gabriel “Fluffy” Iglesias invited them to warm up his show at Pechanga a couple months later.
“We really believe genuinely, with our whole hearts, minds and souls, that this is going to work the way that we think it’s going to,” Cam says, grinning ear to ear.
Currently, the Commas live together in Vista, and the dream, wholeheartedly, is more alive than ever. They’ve put out two dozen singles and a trio of EPs: SARB (2020), Old School Love (2021), and Aeroplane (2024); this year alone brought the release of three new singles, including “Let Me,” a silky-smooth entry in their growing collection of love songs.
“We fully realized the magic is in all of us together,” Lenny says. “We know that this doesn’t happen without each person, and we have respect for each other because we need each other.”
As they grow as brothers and as a band, the Commas try to always remember what unified them in the first place.
“Music has always been a glue,” Jordon says.
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
In a world overflowing with shortcuts, marketing fluff, and “good enough,” there are still companies that choose a different answer. And in San Diego, there are plenty of them.
In a world overflowing with shortcuts, marketing fluff, and “good enough,” there are still companies that choose a different answer.
Integrity guides how they show up every day. They make hard decisions, hold themselves accountable, and build trust the old-fashioned way, one action at a time. At the Better Business Bureau, we call these businesses Torch Heroes: leaders who demonstrate that ethical leadership strengthens businesses and drives long-term success.
And in San Diego, there are plenty of them.
Take House Collective Marketing Solutions, a Carlsbad-based digital agency that won the 2025 Torch Award for Ethics for its people-first approach to marketing. Instead of pushing flashy campaigns, the team often takes a step back to make sure clients’ foundations are strong before going big. Their philosophy? Truth over transaction builds partnerships that last.
Or look at Young Black & N’ Business, where integrity shows up through community action. When a local school lost art funding, founder Roosevelt Williams III and his team stepped in with workshops, mentorship, and hands-on support to help restore creative opportunity. That kind of engagement reflects ethical leadership rooted in real impact.
And in Vista, Lotus Sustainables carried its commitment to ethics all the way to the product line. After discovering defects in a shipment of eco-friendly products, the company issued full refunds and redesigned its offerings at its own expense, a choice that shaped its identity and reinforced to customers that ethics guide every decision.
In North County, Greenway Landscape Design & Build brings integrity into everyday service. When a client’s glass was damaged, likely not by their crew, owner Scott Lawn chose responsibility over blame and covered the repair personally. For Greenway, doing the right thing serves as a north star, guiding every interaction through transparent pricing, accountable partnerships, proactive communication, and follow-through long after the job is done.
Other honorees include At Your Home Familycare, whose leadership turned down a lucrative state contract during the pandemic to protect vulnerable clients and staff, and Bill Howe Family of Companies, where hiring practices, training, and service centers around shared values, every day, on every call.
What connects these diverse businesses, from marketing to nonprofit support to home services, isn’t size, industry, or revenue. It’s something deeper: a commitment to trust as a business strategy.
In San Diego’s competitive marketplace, that trust gives companies an edge. Clients invest in relationships. They refer friends. They stay loyal when others fade.
As one Torch Award winner puts it, integrity isn’t a section in the employee handbook. It’s the operating system of the company, the invisible code that determines every choice, every day.
And that’s exactly the point of the BBB Torch Awards for Ethics: to spotlight companies that dispel the myth that ethics and success are at odds. These businesses show that when leaders choose honesty, fairness, and accountability, especially when it’s hard, they build brands that matter.
At BBB, we see nominations come in from clients, employees, and business partners who have witnessed ethical leadership up close. These submissions aren’t polished promotions. They’re stories of moments when a company chose people over profit, clarity over confusion, and trust over convenience.
The nomination window for the 2026 Torch Awards for Ethics is open through March 31, 2026, and there are more Torch Heroes waiting to be recognized.
Who comes to mind in San Diego’s business community?
And yes, businesses can nominate themselves. We encourage it. If you’ve built your business on principles rather than buzzwords, we want to hear your story.
Because in a world full of noise, integrity still deserves the spotlight, and San Diego is full of stories worth telling. Nominate your hero now.