This problem didn’t appear overnight, and accountability doesn’t belong in one place. Local leaders are making difficult choices inside a fiscal squeeze that extends far beyond City Hall. That’s real. But it doesn’t make an 85 percent cut responsible and it doesn’t absolve any of us, in the public or private sector, from the work ahead.
So here is that work, as specifically as I can name it.
The proposed drop from roughly $13.8 million to $2 million has been widely reported as an 85 percent reduction solely to the arts budget. That number is accurate, and its implications are severe.
There is a meaningful difference between asking every sector to share in fiscal pain and effectively collapsing one. Arts and culture funding isn’t abstract: it creates jobs, drives foot traffic to neighborhoods, generates tax revenue, and supports organizations that took decades to build. An overnight cut of this magnitude with a July 1, 2026, effective date gives those organizations little to no time to adapt. Some won’t survive the attempt.
A more responsible approach would phase the reduction over time, preserve core grantmaking where possible, and give organizations enough runway to respond. That’s not special treatment. That’s how you manage a transition without causing irreversible damage.
Other cities have also developed smarter ways to finance the arts structurally. Denver’s Scientific and Cultural Facilities District, funded by a voter-approved regional sales tax of one penny on every $10, distributed nearly $85 million to almost 300 organizations in 2024. A 2025 study found those organizations generated $3.1 billion in economic activity and supported nearly 14,500 jobs. Houston ties cultural support directly to tourism by dedicating portions of hotel tax revenue to arts and culture. It’s an important thing to keep alive: In 2022, nonprofit arts organizations generated about $1.3 billion in economic activity in Houston alone.
The lesson isn’t that San Diego should replicate any one model. It’s that the healthiest arts ecosystems are built on stable, predictable funding—not annual uncertainty. San Diego has the same ingredients. What it lacks, right now, is the political will to use them.
If we want a vibrant arts and culture scene, we need to acknowledge that the government alone should not be responsible for footing the bill. People who care about this ecosystem need to participate in it in specific, tangible ways.
That means making concrete choices with how we spend our time and money. It means buying museum memberships, theater subscriptions, class packages, and event tickets at institutions like the San Diego Museum of Art, Fleet Science Center, the Vanguard at Westminster Theater, the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego, and the Japanese Friendship Garden, and at organizations like Cygnet Theatre, The Old Globe, La Jolla Playhouse, San Diego Opera, North Coast Rep, and Broadway San Diego. It means showing up to a class at the San Diego Craft Collective, a Voices of Our City Choir performance, or Mission Fed ArtWalk. These aren’t symbolic gestures. They’re direct financial decisions that keep institutions alive when public funding retreats.
I want to address something that came up repeatedly in the responses to last week’s article. Several invoked “Penny for the Arts” as though voters had already weighed in either for or against arts funding. That’s not quite right. Penny for the Arts was a San Diego City Council policy adopted in 2012, not a ballot measure. It committed to restoring arts funding to 9.52 percent of annual hotel tax revenue by 2017. The city never fully met that goal. In FY24, the actual arts allocation was about $18.3 million—well below the roughly $31 million that full funding would have implied.
In November 2024, voters did reject Measure E, a proposed 1 cent sales tax increase. Its failure worsened the city’s overall budget pressure, but it’s important to note that Measure E had no dedicated carveout for arts and culture. Voting no on Measure E was not a vote against the arts. It was a vote against a general fund increase.
I raise this because the conversation matters, and it should be based on facts. If San Diego is going to ask arts organizations to survive on less public support, we need to understand the situation clearly.
Businesses Must Invest in the Arts, Too
Local brands and businesses have to do more than applaud the arts community; they have to invest in it. That doesn’t always mean making a nonprofit donation, though that matters too.
It means hiring local creatives (writers, photographers, designers, musicians) for real, well-paying commercial work. It means choosing a local creative agency for a campaign instead of outsourcing to another city. It means commissioning original work, sponsoring cultural programming and events, and treating creative labor as the economic driver it actually is.
My husband Troy and I sit on the board of San Diego FC’s Playmakers initiative—the club’s artists and creatives program, which has built artist collaborations tied to merchandise and community activations. It won’t fund a museum or a library. But it is a clear example of what it looks like when a major brand invests in the creative community as part of its identity and growth strategy.
Another way to approach this systemically: What if the top 10 corporations in San Diego each pledged to dedicate one percent of their marketing budget to hiring local artists, sponsoring local events, or commissioning local studios? In isolation, one percent doesn’t sound like much. In aggregate, across 10 major companies, it would represent a genuine catalyst for the creative economy—and it would send a signal that San Diego’s business community understands what’s at stake.
In a moment when public support is contracting, private sector participation is a critical part of the solution.
Courtesy of Mission Fed ArtWalk
Media Is Part of The Infrastructure
I own a for-profit arts and culture media company, so I want to be transparent: I have a direct stake in this ecosystem. I also think that stake gives me a clear view of something that doesn’t get discussed enough.
Cultural media coverage and cultural institutions have a symbiotic relationship.
At the very minimum, people need to know what’s happening in order to engage. That’s where listings and calendars come in: the KPBS Arts Calendar, the San Diego Theatre Alliance calendar, Arts+Culture:SD, the City of San Diego’s own listings, and San Diego Magazine’s Things to Do column and Best of San Diego newsletter all play that role.
But deeper, well-produced stories do something different. They have the power to create a real movement and galvanize people to care on an emotional level. A reported feature on an artist that conveys a compelling human behind it that people want to know more about. An essay that explains why a body of work matters or gives historical context on a movement—that kind of journalism leaves a lasting impression, a deeper impulse to get near it, participate in it. It builds a bridge between artist and audience, between institution and attendee. It turns curiosity into connection, and connection into a ticket purchase, then a return visit or membership.
Even at San Diego Magazine, we can’t keep pace with the volume of work happening in this city. Every week, we receive hundreds of pitches about new galleries, performances, installations, and cultural projects. The scene is bigger and more active than we are staffed to cover, not because the work isn’t there but because the resources aren’t.
That’s why local media should be understood as cultural infrastructure, not a separate category. When editorial capacity shrinks, visibility for the city’s arts and culture shrinks. When visibility shrinks, attendance follows. And when attendance falls, the sponsorships, donations, and earned revenue that institutions depend on get harder to sustain. Supporting local media by subscribing, advertising, or partnering is one concrete way to keep that cycle moving in the right direction.
The public response to Mayor Todd Gloria’s proposed budget cuts revealed something worth holding onto: The arts and culture are not a side issue for San Diegans. They are woven into this city’s economic life, its civic identity, and the texture of daily experience in ways that are easy to take for granted until they’re gone.
I’ve spent the past 18 years working in media, and five of those years building a business around this city’s creative community. I’ve watched what happens when arts and culture budgets get cut—including tough decisions we’ve needed to make over the years at the magazine. Coverage disappears, venues close, artists leave because the conditions that made staying possible no longer exist. The losses compound quietly, and they are very hard to reverse.
The answer here isn’t to pretend government should fund everything forever. It also isn’t to pretend the private market can absorb an 85 percent cut overnight without real and lasting damage. The answer is a stronger, more intentional mix: public investment and private support, civic engagement and earned revenue, media infrastructure and community participation—and all of it understood as part of the same ecosystem.
San Diego cares about its culture. The public response to the budget proposal proved that. The question now is: What, specifically, are we each willing to do to support it, and how soon will we act?
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.
Lines and Light Within Structure
“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
The Quiet In Between
“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
Enough
“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
Go Skate Day
“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
Never Let Go
“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
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.
Best Deterrent of Public Vandalism
Vision Culture Foundation
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.
Photo credit: Carly Topazio
Best Way to Overcome Your Fear of Ghosts
The Rosin Box Project
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.
Best Music Venue That Also Sells Hot Dogs
Gallagher Square
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.
Best Local Canvas
Casa Casillas
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.
Courtesy of Alley Cat Art Fest
Best Place to Say “I Think It’s About Capitalism”
Alley Cat Art Fest
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.
Best On-Two-Feet Art Tour
Barrio Art Crawl
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.
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.
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.”
Courtesy of We the Commas
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.
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.
Inspired by the effortless charm of French cafés, this taste of France on Orange Avenue invites guests to embrace the simple pleasure of taking their time.
Strolling down Orange Avenue on a sunny afternoon, you’ll hear the hum of beach cruisers rolling by and visitors making their way toward the Hotel del Coronado. Dogs pause to greet one another on the sidewalk, palm trees sway overhead, and for a moment, you’re convinced you’re living inside the postcard from the gift shop you just passed.
Then the scene shifts. Towering white columns, black café awnings and gold-trimmed windows frame Little Frenchie, where woven bistro chairs spill onto the sidewalk and servers deliver bubbling crocks of French onion soup. The scent of caramelized onions and melted Gruyère is practically an invitation to ask, “How long for a table for two?”
That feeling of pulling up a chair and staying awhile is exactly what inspired Little Frenchie. French cuisine has a reputation for feeling a little intimidating, but the restaurant is rewriting that narrative with food and wine that feels approachable.
“Sometimes when you read a French menu, you come across words you can’t even pronounce,” David Spatafore, the owner of Little Frenchie, says. “We wanted to create a restaurant where people felt comfortable.”
Little Frenchie was designed to capture the spirit of the French sidewalk cafés that inspired it. Dating back to 1917, the space already carried the charm of a Parisian bistro, with architectural details that felt more at home on a European street corner than in Coronado. The team saw an opportunity to create a restaurant that matched the character of the space while filling a gap in the neighborhood.
The result is a French restaurant that honors tradition without taking itself too seriously.
At Little Frenchie, classic French techniques are at the heart of the menu, but there is always room for creativity. A cassoulet featuring Toulouse sausage and duck confit pays homage to the recipes and regions that inspired it, while a rich hot chocolate made with ingredients imported from France brings a taste of French café culture to Coronado.
The team loves finding unexpected ways to make familiar dishes feel new. A burger becomes a showstopper when it is finished tableside with melted raclette, while a French Dip gets elevated with prime beef and Wagyu makes its way into the burgers. Even Eggs Benedict gets a French twist, swapping the traditional English muffin for a buttery croissant. The GB&J, Little Frenchie’s take on a grilled cheese, brings that same playful approach with seasonal jam and French Brie layered into a comforting classic.
Nearly everything at Little Frenchie is made from scratch, with ingredients carefully chosen to match the restaurant’s standards. Even the bread receives special attention. Each morning, the team sends a car to Prager Brothers Artisan Bread to pick up freshly baked loaves, ensuring every element of the meal reflects the restaurant’s commitment to quality.
Wine is woven into the experience just as naturally as the food. Inspired by the effortless pairings found in French cafés and bistros, Little Frenchie’s by-the-glass selection invites guests to sip their way through different regions and discover new favorites without the pressure of knowing all the rules.
How Scrojo Became One of Rock’s Most Prolific Poster Artists
The San Diego designer has created more than 3,000 concert posters over nearly 40 years for artists including the Rolling Stones and the Red Hot Chili Peppers
When he was in high school, he and his friends were trying to come up with the perfect name for their punk band that would encapsulate all their personas. Nicaragua. The Freds.
One of his friends said he was going to go by Jimmy Stacks and called it “the perfect rock and roll name.” Their names changed so much that Haskett erupted: “Fine, I’m f—ing Scrotum Joe, the true defender of the Open West.”
Their response: Wow, that’s a great name.
As a teenager, he drew chalkboards for Del Mar’s Pannikin coffee shop and would design T-shirts for surf/skate brand Life’s a Beach. He signed the shirts with his moniker, but even in punk rebellion, who wants a shirt with the words Scrotum Joe on it? “They just cut out the ‘t-u-m,’ and the next thing you know, a client referred to me as that, and it stuck,” he says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Scrojo could have been part of a band as iconic as The Misfits—had he been able to learn the famously cumbersome bassline to The Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie.” Becoming one of the most renowned concert poster designers—someone who quite literally designed the cover of Art of Modern Rock: The Poster Explosion—is a pretty good Plan B.
“To my knowledge, he’s done more rock posters than anybody else alive,” says Dennis King, whose D. King Gallery in Berkeley, California, serves as one of the largest private rock poster collections in the world. “He’s the hardest-working guy in the poster business.”
King not only co-authored the sequel to music historian Paul Grushkin’s The Art of Rock, but he also handles distribution and sales for all of Scrojo’s work. That’s more than 3,000 different posters over nearly 40 years. (That’s over one poster each week. For four decades straight.)
For anything from boxing matches to rodeos, posters have long been used as promotional items. Toulouse-Lautrec’s famous lithographs advertised Moulin Rouge in the late 1800s. Around the same time, Hatch Show Print in Nashville was making handbills for the Grand Ole Opry.
“I propose this: Cave paintings are the first poster art,” Scrojo says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Rock and roll posters took off in the 1960s, when the hippie counterculture era replaced conformity and suburbia. Artists like Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead used their vibrant, psychedelic prints as a form of rebellion from the mainstream. Posters were promotional, commemorative, collectible, and especially expressive.
If the name Scrojo is any indication, he doesn’t shy away from imagery that toes the line of being too provocative. He focused more on what inspired him instead of trying to be offensive for the sake of getting attention.
“Didn’t want to show it to my grandmother, but my parents were fine with it,” Scrojo says with a laugh.
“We’ve had to ask him to put a Band-Aid over a nipple every now and then,” says Chris Goldsmith, president of Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach, where Scrojo started out and hundreds of his posters currently line the walls.
Scrojo spent six weeks at Otis College of Art and Design for a summer semester before drugs, alcohol, and a self-described lack of discipline prevented him from enrolling full time. Still, he taught himself concepts like text hierarchy and later found his niche at the Belly Up and in the surfing and skating world, working with brands like Quiksilver, Rip Curl, Scorpion Bay, and DGK.
His first concert poster was for North County band Borracho y Loco, of which Goldsmith was bass guitarist. Scrojo drew an abstract version of the Belly Up’s iconic shark with colorful calypso and tiki themes.
Early on, he would craft using a pencil, pen, non-reproduction blue pencil, X-Acto knife, rubber knife, and proportion scale to create each poster, and the finished product could take a week or even longer.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“I recommend every artist coming up to do that for like six weeks,” Scrojo says. “It forces you to think about every design decision as you’re going along.”
He has since mastered vector imagery through Adobe Illustrator to the point where, depending on the level of detail needed, he could finish two projects in a day. Still, he fills sketchbook after sketchbook to blueprint.
“I liked his line in particular, and he knows how to draw, which a lot of people don’t really know how to do these days,” King says.
Scrojo would research what each musician’s merchandise looks like to get a feel for each artist’s tone and voice. Once he has his central image in mind, he focuses on what and where to place the text.
He doesn’t have one specific style, ranging his talents from art deco to psychedelic and everything in between (and outside the lines). Want a pop surrealist comic book cartoon devil with splattered paint textures, halftone dot patterns, and pure chaos? Red Hot Chili Peppers, February 1986. Want a minimalist graphic portrait with bold strokes and graffiti text? P!nk, October 2023. Want a carnival sideshow style piece with a tasteful caricature of Jeff Bridges? The Big Lebowski, August 2011.
Scrojo calls himself a jack of all trades because he can create posters for all music genres. King calls him a chameleon for his ability to adapt his voice to new eras.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“The variety of his skillset makes it possible for us to put 50 of his posters on a wall next to each other and have it look compelling, not just a bunch of the same thing over and over,” Goldsmith says.
Some of Scrojo’s favorite posters are when he feels a personal connection to the artist or the album. He has a vivid memory as a child of being trapped in a closet filled with marijuana leaves while playing hide and seek and staring at Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come” LP. “For whatever reason, as a kid, that sparked a desire to do graphic design,” Scrojo says.
Fast forward to February 2012, Cliff is performing at Belly Up. Scrojo decided to modify Cliff’s original album cover from rainbow gradient fills to classic reggae psychedelia while preserving Cliff’s striped pants and bold hat. Cliff’s manager called him and said they wanted to use it for the rest of their tour.
“We always get artists requesting that he does their posters,” Goldsmith says. “A lot of artists don’t want venues to go all rogue because they want to control how they’re being presented. With him, they’re like, ‘Let him go nuts.’”
Matt Eisenberg is an award-winning writer and photographer based in San Diego. A former ESPN editor, his work has also been published by CNN, Bleacher Report and the New York Daily News.
Summer has officially kicked off, and San Diego is celebrating the sunny season with a myriad of fun events. From San Diego Pride week and a fairytale performance at Civic Theatre to a Santigold concert and Comic-Con, there are dozens of opportunities to make memories worth adding to your scrapbook. Here are all the best things to do in San Diego this July:
Divine inspirations, operatic ballads, and symphonic pop production elevate Rosalía’s Lux to heavenly levels. Hear angelic vocals ascend—in up to 13 languages—during her performance at Pechanga Arena.
Enjoy a night of feel-good indie rock and sing-along anthems at the Cal Coast Credit Union Open Air Theatre courtesy of Young the Giant and special guest Cold War Kids.
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Santigold collects genres like gold stars: musical accouterments that brighten her uniquely alternative sound. See her live in concert with dancehall producer Troy Baker Sound at Humphreys Concerts by the Bay.
Two male government workers pursue a secret romance amid the Lavender Scare in the San Diego Opera’s production of “Fellow Travelers” at the Balboa Theatre.
Audrey Hepburn. Marlon Brando. Salvador Dalí. What do these icons have in common? Each was the enigmatic focus of a Cecil Beaton portrait. Step inside Cecil Beaton’s Fashionable World, an alluring showcase of 20th-century style at San Diego Museum of Art.
Courtesy of San Diego Pride
More Fun Things to Do in San Diego This Month
1
The Little Italy Mercato will trade morning rays for golden-hour glow through its free Summer Sera, an expansion of the neighborhood’s farmers market with live music, artisanal finds, and a fetching amount of pet activities.
11–19
San Diego Pride week starts with a Dyke March and ends with the two-day “Pride Shines On” festival. The days in between? Run a 5K, march in the parade, visit the rainbow-lit St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral, and more.
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Dress up for a Mediterranean-themed tea time at the Estancia La Jolla, a laid-back yet refined afternoon planned for the resort’s monthly Tea in the Garden series.
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Nerd culture’s biggest gathering returns to the Convention Center. San Diego Comic-Con welcomes fans of everything from comic book cinema to ultra-rare collectibles for panels, exhibits, sneak peeks, and much more.
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.
Growing up, Laika Nur, MD, Scripps Clinic sports medicine specialist, loved watching beach volleyball when the Association of Volleyball Professionals tour came to her hometown of Chicago. A talented volleyball player herself, she remembers sitting in the stands all day, and once, even got a couple autographs. Years later, Dr. Nur was attending a professional event focused on women’s sports, and the discussion turned to a new professional women’s volleyball league. The general manager and coaching staff for San Diego’s team, the Mojo, happened to be in attendance, and Dr. Nur took the opportunity to ask them if they needed a team doctor. Flash forward to the Mojo’s inaugural 2024 season, when Dr. Nur officially became the team physician. Click here to read more about Dr. Nur and how she incorporates lessons she learned on the court into her practice.
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