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Rising rents and a stagnating collector market spell trouble for small San Diego galleries and the art scenes they support—but hope remains
You won’t see any sterile white walls here. You can barely see the walls, period, covered as they are in arresting, occasionally stomach-turning art: skulls and skinless bodies, a house on fire, a cheeky clock with an unprintable word prominently displayed. In a corner, a tennis racquet lamp by artist Jason Sherry casts its warm light into the room.
A far cry from the sleek, expansive spaces that typically show and sell art, Melody Jean Moulton’s small South Park storefront, Trash Lamb Gallery, feels a bit like visiting the apartment of your eccentric aunt with macabre and excellent taste. Prices range from less than $2 (for postcard prints of artists’ work) to the thousands, with stops at nearly every dollar amount in between.
“So many people have come in here and said, ‘Oh my god, this city needs this. I’m sick of seeing the same old thing,’” Moulton says.
Moulton, a collage artist, lost her job as a bartender at the onset of the pandemic. She never planned to start a business, until a retail space near her South Park apartment—and managed by the same landlord—became available. She didn’t have savings, but her network of friends chipped in to help make her dream a reality.
Her first exhibition at Trash Lamb, a group show, was a success. She credits the impacts of Covid, in part, for the flurry of interest she received during those early days. “I don’t know if I opened today if as many people would’ve been paying attention,” she says. “I got a lot of artists from all over the United States interested in having work in the show.”
That exhibition, and those that came after, helped establish Trash Lamb’s singular perspective in the local arts scene. But the past three years have been a crash course in business management for Moulton. In addition to curating shows and manning the register at Trash Lamb’s front-of-house gift shop, she manages the books and single-handedly created and maintains the gallery’s website and social media.
It’s a staggering amount of work, and Moulton can no longer run the show solo. In August 2023, she launched a GoFundMe asking for donations to fund a small staff and other assistance.
“The gallery is currently in dire [straits]. Without some immediate financial support, Trash Lamb will not make it to the end of the year,” Moulton wrote. “I believe in Trash Lamb so much that I would 100 [percent] take on more debt if I could … If we are able to become fully funded that will give Trash Lamb the opportunity to grow and make it past that quintessential [five]-year mark.”
At the time of writing, the crowdfunding campaign had generated nearly $20,000 (just under half of its $46,300 goal), carrying Trash Lamb into its fourth year. But unless she reaches her goal, the brick-and-mortar may shutter this April.

The question is, then, whether Trash Lamb’s trouble is a death knell or the same old song. Every industry—including the arts—has its ebbs and flows. The loss of Trash Lamb would be a personal tragedy for Moulton and the many artists, collectors, and shoppers who work with the gallery. But who’s to say that another art business wouldn’t simply arise in its place, as businesses tend to do?
There’s evidence, however, that it may be a particularly difficult time for art spaces in San Diego and beyond. The price per square foot for retail properties in San Diego rose 31 percent from 2022 to 2023, according to commercial real estate marketplace Crexi. And there are no laws limiting landlords from raising rates following the end of a lease, even for existing tenants.
Another commercial multiple-listing site, LoopNet, reported that the average cost to lease retail space in San Diego is about $35 for each square foot per year. At that rate, a gallerist renting a 600-square-foot property (about the size of a typical one-bedroom apartment) would shell out about $1,800 a month, but that doesn’t account for other expenses—or the fact that a lean square footage limits how much work you can show and, thus, sell.
When taking into account rent and other overhead, Eric Laine, the founder of newer North County space Oolong Gallery, cites the cost of running his business as “at least $10,000 a month.” All in all, maintaining a gallery requires tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars a year in art sales, in a time when collector spending seems to be waning globally.
In the first five months of 2023, art auction sales decreased about 14 percent, Art Net reported, even at major houses like Christie’s and Sotheby’s, whose artists—Pablo Picasso, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Willem de Kooning among them—command bids in the millions. Total art sales in the US dipped 25 percent from the same period in 2022.

In San Diego, Antonio Becker, the owner of Good Faith Gallery, has seen “a stark contrast” in the way consumers engage with his space since the pandemic, he says. Once-dedicated collectors may now spend less time at galleries and less money on art.
Taken together, soaring rents and stagnating sales could spell disaster for the entire industry—which could, in turn, impact emerging artists.
Almost half of all US museums focus on a mere four percent of contemporary artists, according to a 2022 study. Galleries (and, now, the internet) are one of the few spaces where newer or less commercially successful artists can show their work, generate buzz, and attract buyers and collectors.
“Commercial galleries in the US play a critical role in the careers of artists,” the study opined. “Unlike most museums, galleries are important from an early stage, and feature in the exhibition programs of artists all the way through their careers.”
According to Becker, galleries ultimately cater to the artist, as opposed to viewer-focused institutions like museums. “We’re propelling someone into the limelight for a short period of time,” he adds. “You see the impact it has on their lives. The DIY spaces, that’s where legends are made. That’s how people end up in the contemporary art museums.”
At eclectic local spots like Trash Lamb, visitors might peruse paintings from artists showing in a gallery for the first time alongside pieces from Jon Bok, a popular LA–based artist who has also shown at the Mingei International Museum in Balboa Park. They’re equal-opportunity playgrounds.
“Call them ‘alternative,’ ‘experimental’ or ‘nontraditional,’ these spaces are an essential part of an art ecosystem. They are … where young artists gain traction and established artists try out new concepts,” journalist Susan Myrland wrote for San Diego CityBeat in 2013. With the exception of North Park’s stalwart Art Produce and some galleries inside Bread & Salt, most of the newer spaces she mentions in the piece (along with CityBeat itself) have shuttered.

So what can galleries do to survive? One option is to be adaptable. Local art world giant Mark Quint founded his eponymous gallery on Pearl Street in La Jolla in the 1980s, but it’s found a home in dozens of buildings over the decades. “He’s been around for over 40 years, and I think part of that is being so flexible and nimble and not sticking to one space,” says Quint Gallery Marketing Director Jacqueline Marino.
Contemporary arts space Oolong Gallery took a similar path. Laine launched Oolong in an airy Solana Beach building just as the pandemic waned, but with the combination of heavy car traffic and light foot traffic on the 101 and costly square footage in a lesser-used downstairs area, the gallery’s location in the area quickly became financially untenable. When a glass-walled warehouse in Encinitas became available via a “benevolent collector-slash-real-estate-mogul,” Laine says, he transplanted his operation, adopting a pop-up model.
Though the cost of living and doing business in San Diego continues to creep ever upward, some landlords are more amenable to the arts. When the North Park building that once housed Good Faith Gallery was sold, Becker met the owner of a property in Sherman Heights through another gallerist. “Honestly, I think that we’re able to still function because of his lenience and his goal to create a space for the arts,” Becker says.
Additionally, Good Faith provides studio space to several artists. It’s the rent they pay—more so than art sales or events—that keeps the gallery afloat. Moving forward, more businesses could lessen the traditional divide between arts institutions and art studios, building more artist-driven, collaborative spaces. Already, some LA galleries, such as Durden and Ray, operate on a co-op model, with each member artist or curator contributing financially to maintain the space.

It’s a future that artist Soni Lopéz-Chavéz can envision working particularly well in historically marginalized communities. Lopéz-Chavéz and her husband Chris Zertuche ran the now-legendary La Bodega Gallery, a bustling arts space in Barrio Logan, for six years. Mounting new shows each weekend, they platformed thousands of artists and helped transform Logan Avenue into the hub it is today.
But as the area increased in popularity, property owners realized they could rake in more from tenants. La Bodega’s landlord tripled the building’s rent, forcing Lopéz-Chavéz and Zertuche out of the space. Other small galleries in the area folded shortly after. The neighborhood’s vibrant arts scene lives mostly in stories now.
“Barrio Logan is no longer the same,” Lopéz-Chavéz says. “If someone new wants to come in, they’re going to have to come in with a lot of money, which is unrealistic for a lot of us brown or Black folks. I think if a group of people got together and opened up a space together, then it might be easier.”
On a broader level, Alessandra Moctezuma—gallery director and professor at San Diego Mesa College and a representative for District 3 of the San Diego Arts Commission—hopes to see more governmental support for galleries and other small arts spaces.
“Right now, the city is working on a cultural plan,” she says. “[The team behind it] has started to think of some ways to financially help arts spaces,” even those that are for-profit. She would like to see the commission create a comprehensive gallery directory and make a full-time marketing hire whose role is to promote cultural tourism in San Diego.
Long-term, she adds, convincing major players—including governmental organizations and major corporations—of the necessity and value of art could lead to massive shifts in the way art is funded and supported. It may be the key to preserving spaces for emerging artists. Might massive biotech companies someday sponsor art shows? Could money be allotted to subsidize gallery spaces, particularly those that offer art lessons, activities for children, or other ways for the community to engage directly with the arts?
In the meantime, galleries, even those owned by individuals, can find more secure footing by banding together. “Our society is based on this very competitive model,” Moctezuma says. “But if you really want to create synergy and have people go and see the galleries, we have to foster a more collaborative model.” Approaches as simple as communicating to ensure galleries several neighborhoods apart aren’t scheduling openings on the same day could help the scene across San Diego feel less atomized—and lead to some powerful cross-promotion.
Community, after all, might be the key to saving spaces like Trash Lamb. Most of the gallery’s donors have been artists and fellow small business owners. Those who were unable to give financially offered free works of art, which Moulton was able to sell without providing a commission to the artist, or helped Moulton host fundraisers and auctions.
“I gave to Trash Lamb Gallery [because] it is talented independent local living artists sharing their art and vision of where we live, and I want to see more of that,” says local software developer Joe Crawford, a contributor to Trash Lamb’s campaign. “Working people are struggling and that means artists are struggling. San Diego has a history of similar spaces. But then the rent goes up or a landlord cancels a lease. I want to see Trash Lamb beat those odds. We’re a rich city, rich state, and rich country, but often it’s left to small donations from individuals to support the arts.”
The aid from those who share her values may help Moulton keep marching on while still doing things her way: avant-garde, bold, welcoming to anyone who’s ever felt out-of-place, in art or in the world.
“It’s important to me to keep [art] accessible to everyone,” Moulton says. “I don’t know if that’s the most solid business plan, but it’s what I want to do.”
Correction: An earlier version of this article mistakenly cited the average cost of leasing retail space in San Diego as $35 per square foot per month, rather than per year.
Amelia Rodriguez is a writer and journalist and winner of the San Diego Press Club's 2023 Rising Star Award and 2024 Best of Show Award, she’s also covered music, food, arts and culture, fashion, and design for Rolling Stone, Palm Springs Life, and other national and regional publications. After work, you can find her hunting down San Diego’s best pastries and maintaining her five-year Duolingo streak.
Whether you’re ready to lean into fall or determined to keep summer going, here are all the best things to do this month
September is San Diego’s unofficial second summer—the crowds thin, the weather stays warm, and the city’s calendar somehow gets even busier. This month brings stadium-sized rock shows, Broadway’s buzziest comedy, a new anime convention, world-premiere theater, gallery openings, food festivals, and the first signs of spooky season. Whether you’re ready to lean into fall or determined to keep summer going, here are the best things to do in San Diego this September.
Concerts & Festivals | Theater & Art Exhibits | More Fun Things to Do

As Guns N’ Roses storm into decade five, their appetite for destruction persists. During their Snapdragon Stadium concert, hear the hard rock anthems, new material and a set from The Black Crowes.
Kehlani is proof that the romance and earnest sensuality of old-school R&B will never go out of style. Hear her take it back to the aughts at Viejas Arena.
From the silver screen to The Old Globe stage, John Carney will Begin Again (again) with a world premiere musical adaptation featuring new songs—courtesy of Train—and a story overflowing with hope.
The concept of work is a guiding principle for San Diego native and multidisciplinary creative noé olivas. Observe his community-informed approach via Tierra y Cielo (Earth and Sky) at Best Practice Gallery.
Two workers grapple with the weight of their roles at a temporary migrant shelter in Mario Vega’s world premiere play Our Lady of the San Diego Convention Center, set for citywide performances.
Luminous visions of peace and the Punjabi-American roots of Rupinder Kaloti inform The Gathering, a wondrous unification of family foretold via paintings at Oceanside Museum of Art.
It’s Mary Todd Lincoln’s world and we’re just living in it. See the presidential paramour barrel to her way to stardom at the Civic Theatre during Oh, Mary!, Cole Escola’s political spoof.

Pros and Con(vention)s: Anime San Diego will debut at the San Diego Convention Center with cosplayers, panels and more than 400 vendors well-versed in Japanese animation.
Scaredy cats beware: SeaWorld San Diego’s Howl-O-Scream embraces frights forged in darkness. Enjoy an ominous lineup of live shows, scare zones and bloody bars ahead of Halloween.
The best parts of Artivál and the Alley Cat Art Walk have united for the free Alley Cat Art Fest, an all-day outing for live music and immersive artwork in Downtown El Cajon.
Take a Grecian vacation for a fraction of the price during the annual Cardiff Greek Festival, two days of immersive cuisine and culture—with plenty of dancing—on the Encinitas coast.
Step away from the stove! The California Restaurant Association has eight days of eating experiences with your name on it. During San Diego Restaurant Week, explore by meal, neighborhood or cuisine for your personal dining plan.
Nourish yourself with an all-inclusive spread of Pacific Beach eats and locally-crafted artwork during the HeArt of PB Restaurant Walk on Garnet Avenue.
When it comes to stand-up comedy, Chelsea Handler is always ready to roast. See Handler tell anecdotes and skewer an assemblage of victims during her Balboa Theatre performance.
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.
The Ely Callaway Performance Center is where tour-level fittings, cutting-edge technology, and golf equipment you can’t buy yet all come together
“Come test something.”
Those are quite possibly my three favorite words in the English language—all due respect to “I love you” or the highly underrated “you were right.”
I’ve been a PGA Golf Professional since 1994, and yes, full bias disclosure, a Callaway Golf Ambassador for 18 years. One of the bonuses that comes with that combo is access to the Ely Callaway Performance Center—a place so exclusive it gives “velvet rope” vibes.
Originally opened in 2006 as a highly functional (yet not exactly breathtaking) test facility, the ECPC got a serious glow-up in 2018 when Gil Hanse (along with partner Geoff Shackelford) turned it into what can only be described as a fully engineered golf playground. Hanse is no stranger to golf course renovations. In 2024, he completed an extensive redesign of the Omni La Costa North Course in Carlsbad, so it could host the NCAA Division 1 Golf Championships. He also worked on acclaimed courses like Winged Foot, Merion Golf Club, and Oakmont Country Club.
In just two months, it went from a standard test center and R&D lab to a fully dialed-in golf playground.

What was once purely practical is now intentionally designed to be both precise and inspiring. The targets are staggered with purpose—forcing creative shot-making while also calling you out on your actual distances (no more “that’s my 150-yard club … ish”).
Add a massive hitting area, bunkers and greens that mimic real on-course conditions, a “Himalayas” putting green (named for its roller-coaster undulations), an upgraded indoor putting lab, and a 120-decibel sound system blasting a very golf-appropriate playlist, and suddenly it’s a rare blend of high-performance testing facility and “don’t mind if I stay here all day” energy. Since this isn’t exactly open to the public, SDM asked me to take you behind the curtain.
As the iron gates part, it feels less like arriving at a practice facility and more like being granted backstage access at a rock concert—if the bandmembers were made entirely of launch monitors and perfectly manicured turf.
There are no mats. No guessing. No “I think that one felt good?” Just conditions that mirror exactly what tour players see in competition. Because when you’re testing equipment at this level, accuracy isn’t a bonus—it’s the whole point.
Even the sand matters. Different textures. Different densities. Because bunkers have personalities, too, and they are often unfriendly. And the golf balls? Brand. New. Not the usual “these have seen some things” range balls. New balls mean consistent spin, truer trajectory, and no surprises. The older a golf ball gets—and the more it’s been baked in the sun, scuffed, or generally lived a full and complicated life—the less reliable it becomes. Think of it like this: fresh ball, predictable performance; old range ball, slight chaos with a side of mystery.
I’m escorted to my personal hitting bay—basically a pop-up shaded oasis stocked with enough equipment to make a gear junkie weak in the knees. Shafts in every weight and profile imaginable. Heads lined up like they’re waiting to be drafted by their favorite team.

Toptracer technology was patiently waiting to track every one of my swings, each shot instantly delivering ball speed, launch, spin, carry distance, and dispersion (a polite way of saying consistency, or lack thereof), so there’s no guessing—just data telling the truth, whether I like it or not.
We start with irons. Different heads, different feels, different results. When I miss a shot, the ball tends to leak right, so we check lie angle. A quick adjustment—2 degrees upright—and suddenly the clubface is consistently square at impact like it remembered its job. Effort level: down. Ball flight: improved. Confidence: creeping back.
Next we look at the different shaft options—because nothing says “fun afternoon” like realizing a higher kick point can change your entire golf identity. Shaft flex (how much the shaft bends during your swing) helps determine whether you get more height and distance or more control, while kick point (where the shaft bends the most) influences your ball flight—lower kick point for higher launch, higher kick point for a flatter, more penetrating shot. In other words, one small tweak and suddenly you’re hitting shots you’d normally only describe later, slightly exaggerated, over a glass of wine.
Then we move through the bag: hybrids, fairway woods, drivers, wedges. It’s a full rotation of “try this,” “now try this,” and “okay wait … THAT one.”
And yes—the new Quantum driver and fairway woods made an appearance. Without getting too deep in the weeds, they’re faster, more forgiving, and smarter (thanks to AI face mapping) than previous models. Translation: Even your mishits are now slightly less embarrassing. And they were not the only things getting tested. My patience was under attack because the driver and woods would not be available to the public for a good three months.

Watching the fitting team work is like watching a Formula 1 pit crew. Clubs are swapped in seconds. Shafts tightened, adjusted, replaced. One minute you’re swinging something that seems “fine,” and the next, you’re holding a club that feels like it is a part of your DNA.
Then there’s the putter fitting. Drivers are physics. Putters are therapy. Inside the putting lab, sensors track everything—tempo, face angle, path—things you didn’t even know could be measured. Within minutes, my data politely informs me that my putter face is slightly closed at impact. Not shocking, but also not ideal.
A few quick adjustments—different head (with a bit more weight at the toe to discourage the face swinging closed at impact), shorter shaft (so I feel more over the ball, which helps my eyeline)—and suddenly the ball starts rolling exactly where I’m aimed.
Same stroke. Same golfer. Completely different outcome. If only the rest of life worked like that.
And then there’s the part that feels slightly classified. The ECPC isn’t “just” a performance center—it’s also where future equipment lives before the public even knows it exists. I’ve been there when certain clubs were basically under surveillance. Not “don’t touch,” but more “please keep phones in your pocket.”
It’s golf’s version of Area 51. Except instead of aliens, it’s drivers that won’t hit shelves for another year—and like I mentioned, waiting is not my strong suit.
Getting to test the newest equipment isn’t just a perk—it’s part of the job. It’s what allows me to stand in front of students and say, “I’ve tried it. I know what works and what doesn’t. And more importantly, I know why.” And if I happen to sprint to my car every time the phone rings and someone says, “Come test something” … well, that’s just professional courtesy.
Callaway isn’t the only place to get your swing analyzed and clubs fitted. You can stroll into big retail spots like The Golf Mart or Golf Galaxy, book a next-level session at a dedicated studio like Club Champion or True Spec Golf, test brand-specific gear at various manufacturing companies (many located in Carlsbad), or even combine a lesson and a fitting at GOLFTEC. And let’s not forget your local golf course, where fittings happen on actual turf, on a driving range you have some history with—many times with the golf professional who is familiar with your swing so they can give you valuable input. With this many options, there’s really no excuse, other than pride, to keep blaming your clubs.
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.
KQ Aesthetic Society goes beyond cosmetic to provide comprehensive care and transformative results
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.

Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.

“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
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.
For a city that lives outdoors, these hometown makers understand exactly what your complexion is up against
San Diego has always worshipped at the altar of good skin. Equal parts surf town, biotech hub, and wellness capital, it’s a city where lunch breaks become beach walks and sunscreen sits beside car keys by the front door. The products that get used here earn their place. With 266 sunny days a year and one of the highest rates of skin cancer in the country, we take skincare seriously. Dr. Bronner’s has been making soap in North County since the 1960s. Sun Bum was born in Encinitas and is now on shelves in over 70 countries. The tradition runs deep.
“Living in San Diego means your skin is exposed to sun almost every day of the year,” says Sue Zhang, M.D., a San Diego physician specializing in aesthetic medicine. “The products that tend to succeed here are the ones that can keep up with daily life, UV exposure, sweat, and movement, while still supporting long-term skin health.”
From a mineral powder that solves the sunscreen-over-makeup problem to an acorn oil serum rooted in Indigenous plant medicine, the local San Diego shelf is more diverse, and comprehensive, than most of us realize.

A hydrating gel-oil hybrid that applies like a body treatment and leaves skin with a sheen that reads as healthy rather than oily. La Jolla–founded Kopari built its reputation on cold-pressed coconut oil sourced from family farms in the Philippines, and the Sun Shield Body Glow SPF is exactly that in summer form: coverage that doubles as skincare.

The name is intentional. The founder got a basal cell carcinoma diagnosis that his dermatologist caught—she’s now his business partner. The question he couldn’t shake was why the skincare industry hadn’t yet figured out how to talk to men, and 4-Skin is the answer: a premium sunscreen and skincare line built around the kind of blunt, self-aware humor that gets guys to pay attention. Men’s skincare has needed this for a long time, and the formulas are serious enough to deliver.

Carlsbad-based Coola was formulating organic SPF before “clean sunscreen” was a marketing category, and the Classic Face Sunscreen is the brand’s thesis: protection that disappears into skin and layers cleanly under makeup. Sheer and lightly hydrating, it makes sunscreen easy to reapply before an afternoon walk at Torrey Pines.

Squalane, argan, jojoba, and CoQ10: a short ingredient list that does a lot. The Glow Finishing Oil from Mission Hills wellness sanctuary Saffron and Sage is plant-based, scientifically grounded, and formulated to absorb rather than sit on the skin. The brand started as an integrative health practice where acupuncture, naturopathic care, and functional medicine share a roof, and the skincare line runs on the same philosophy.

The Restorative Skin Complex is powered by TriHex+, a patented peptide blend developed by Carlsbad-based Alastin’s team of SkinMedica veterans. It promises to clear out damaged collagen and elastin while supporting new production, the kind of gradual improvement that makes a product hard to quit.

Beldi is a multi-functional cleansing tradition rooted in Moroccan hammam culture, dating back over 12 centuries. Alia Jouj is the brand’s flagship product, and San Diego–based founder Dr. Mia Chae Reddy built a brand around it. Alia Jouj uses 100 percent organic, cold-pressed argan oil and the same ancient saponification method to produce a honey-thick liquid cleanser that softens skin without stripping it.

Acorn oil has been used by California’s Indigenous communities as plant medicine for generations. Ruth-Ann Thorn, an enrolled member of the Rincon Band of Luiseño Indians, built N8iV around it as the first Native American–owned skincare brand to reach the national mainstream. The Móyla Moon Polish, named for the Luiseño word for moon, is an exfoliant centered on acorn oil Thorn gathers herself each year from the La Jolla reservation. Find it at the Gaslamp Quarter store Thorn owns at the historic Yuma Building.

This product solved the reapplication problem. As a brush applicator, this mineral SPF goes over makeup without disturbing it, which is why it has been on derm-office retail shelves in Carlsbad and beyond for over two decades. The tinted version doubles as foundation.

This steroid-free, petroleum-free eczema treatment was built specifically for babies and toddlers (although grown-ups can use it, too). It’s centered on FDA-approved 1 percent colloidal oatmeal with a base of sunflower seed oil, beeswax, and jojoba. The “linoleic-acid-rich sunflower oil is helpful for atopic, eczema-prone skin that is often deficient in that fatty acid,” says Dr. Zhang. Gentle enough for newborns, safe for daily use, and tested by both pediatricians and dermatologists.

The Mandelic Night Serum pairs mandelic acid, an AHA derived from almonds and gentler than glycolic acid on sensitive skin, with lactic acid, niacinamide, and urea to brighten, smooth texture, and reduce breakouts overnight. Fragrance-free, vegan, cruelty-free. The brand name is the initials of the founder’s five daughters, pronounced like courage. Dr. Zhang also says she “really value[s] [the founder’s] mission to create pregnancy-safe skincare products that are both effective and wallet-friendly.”
Ingrid Yang, M.D., J.D. is a hospital-based physician in San Diego, CA, certified yoga therapist, and longevity specialist. She loves *double hearts* San Diego and spends her days helping people fully engage in long, healthy lives through evidence-based lifestyle medicine. Her books include Adaptive Yoga, Zen Mindfulness, and Hatha Yoga Asanas. When she’s not leading international wellness retreats, she is chasing sunsets, handstanding in nature, or geeking out over mitochondria.
A look at San Diego's top designers creating unique environments that combine creativity and function















AVRP Studios’ tradition for Design Excellence and Innovation began in 1976 with Doug Austin, FAIA, in Solana Beach, California. The firm has since grown to complete major projects throughout the United States and Canada. We think of ourselves as a family and we care deeply about people. We want to inspire, help make their lives richer and more complete through our efforts. We believe that architecture is one of the most important art forms because of the impact it can have on the lives of those it touches. We’re delighted to have been recognized with over 150 awards for design excellence.
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