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We asked 15 San Diego professionals with the coolest jobs in town how they landed their gigs—and how we could steal them
Senior Quality, Sustainability, and Innovation Manager at Dr. Bronner’s
Vista’s 70-year-old soap company is known for its commitment to organic, fair-trade materials. With an ethos like that, it’s no surprise they’re just as adamant about eco-friendly production. Enter: Darcy Shiber-Knowles.
“I look at the company’s environmental footprint,” says Shiber-Knowles, who’s worked at Dr. Bronner’s since 2013. “It’s my job to work across departments to help reduce our footprint and increase our positive environmental legacy.” That means implementing xeriscaping to curb water use, installing solar panels, reusing cardboard boxes, and holding an annual audit to gauge how well the company separates waste. Most recently, they launched an in-house café that serves free plant-based meals to employees. Any food waste from that café will be used in a compost program that launches soon.
Shiber-Knowles’s passion for sustainability stretches back to her teenage years when, yes, she used Dr. Bronner’s soap. After studying environmental science at Barnard College and earning an MBA in social justice at Yale, she spotted Dr. Bronner’s chief operating officer, Michael Milam, at the annual Natural Products Expo West in Anaheim. They kept in touch, and four months later, they co-created her job. “It’s exciting to do what I wanted to do—help an organization that has an organic supply chain better achieve its mission.”
If you’re interested in the subject, she says, don’t limit yourself to a self-proclaimed green company. “There are environmental footprint battles to be fought in every company. We all need to think about our impact—within finance, human resources, facilities. Whatever your discipline, there’s an opportunity for leadership. You don’t need to have ‘compost’ in your title.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Senior Policy Strategist at ACLU San Diego
What if you could wake up every morning knowing you’re about to make a concrete difference in the world? Christie Hill gets to do just that. Her job is to identify solutions to problems in the community and help enact policy changes.
Hill has always had the urge to give back. “After college I worked as a case manager at a program for homeless women,” she says. “I realized I was frustrated by the larger systemic problems affecting the lives of these women. It confirmed that I wanted to go to law school, to work within the legal system.”
She graduated from Columbia Law School and worked in DC and New York before returning to her native San Diego. “I really enjoy the policy side, working with people closest to the issue,” she says. At the ACLU, she lobbies government officials, state legislators, and local city council members on issues ranging from immigrant rights and education equity to police reform and criminal justice. “We have been working with a coalition of change groups locally to advocate for a nationwide search for the next police chief,” she says. “We secured the victory of getting the search, and we continue to fight to make sure it’s transparent and community centered. That’s something that isn’t over yet, but good to be a part of.”
For Hill, identifying her core passion has been crucial to her career path. “I’m a black woman, so it’s important I’m advancing causes that are going to impact people of color, especially black people, in a meaningful way. That is the lens I bring to everything I do.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Reporter and Producer at KUSI News
KUSI sports reporter and producer Brandon Stone has been on the field for it all, whether interviewing legendary running back LaDainian Tomlinson, reporting on championship games, or covering hometown great Tony Gwynn’s funeral.
Stone, who celebrates a decade at the San Diego news station this year, was still attending San Diego State University when he became a rookie sports reporter at KUSI as an intern. Now a familiar face across San Diego County, he says the most enjoyable part of his job continues to be reporting on student athletes who are determined to change the world in which they live.
Stone says that as a boy, he knew three truths: 1) He loved sports; 2) He wasn’t great at playing sports; 3) But he could write. Suited up with that self-knowledge, he went on to study the craft of sports journalism through and through. “Read, research, and understand the world you’re covering,” he advises.
The field is changing, though, and Stone says the rise of social media means he’s had to open up about his personal life more and learn how to be active on Twitter and Facebook to keep the public engaged. He’s also had to learn how to do everything when it comes to reporting—it isn’t rare for him to report, produce, and edit his own videos.
The pinnacle of Stone’s career thus far, he admits, was scoring a one-on-one interview with Chargers owner Dean Spanos almost immediately after last year’s bombshell that the team was leaving for Los Angeles. “If you look at the pivotal moments in San Diego history, the Chargers moving to Los Angeles is one of those moments,” Stone says. “They were an integral part in the economics of the city, so to be able to look at and talk to the guy who caused a lot of havoc in the city was pretty cool.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Head of Johnson & Johnson Innovation, JLABS in San Diego
When Johnson & Johnson launched a no-strings-attached facility for emerging life sciences companies in 2012, they set up shop not in the Bay Area or Boston, but in San Diego. Now there are locations in Toronto, San Francisco, and coming this year, New York. San Diego’s is located in Janssen Research & Development, a 300,000-square-foot research and development facility that counts UC San Diego and various Scripps Health institutions as neighbors. And Kara Bortone is at the helm, managing the operations.
JLABS provides equipment, operation teams, security, and shipping and receiving processes to life sciences ventures—taking care of the nitty-gritty so businesses can focus on the bigger picture. Beyond interviewing applicants, Bortone connects companies to investors and digs through the global pool of J&J employees to get resources for the startups, most of which are in the pharmaceutical sector. Every two months she also cohosts Fuel Friday, when all the companies come together for lunch. Once a quarter, they hold a CEO roundtable.
“Every week I meet companies on the edge of innovation and health care—new consumer products, pharmaceutical or biotech developments, as well as medical devices. I really do feel like I have the coolest job in San Diego.”
Before JLABS, Bortone worked at Galapagos, a Belgian biotech firm that partnered with Janssen. Moral of the story? “Networking, networking, and more networking. I got this job because of someone else, and in San Diego, because it’s such a close-knit community, you never know who you can help and who can help you in the future.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Activities and Events Coordinator for International Programs at UC San Diego Extension
Students from all over the world come to UCSD to improve their English conversation and writing skills while working toward a degree. Shaily Jariwala is the one who greets them at the get-go. By each student’s first day of orientation, she’s organized their schedule and managed the logistics for a smooth introduction to the university’s International Programs. Once they’ve settled in, students think of her as their personal party planner, regularly coordinating their extracurricular activities.
Jariwala schedules tours and plans student field trips to local businesses and attractions, including Rady Children’s Hospital and Petco Park, as part of related course curricula. She also plans athletic and social activities like soccer or volleyball tournaments, yoga classes, and talent shows, plus staff events for the nearly 200 employees at Extension. For one staff conference, she held a Family Feud–style game show to quiz staff on the school’s current happenings—and even dressed as Steve Harvey. She also styled a graduation ceremony as a full-on red carpet awards show and served as emcee.
Networking and maintaining relationships with vendors and venues is her key to success.
“I bring cookies to every new person I meet so they remember me and are quicker to help me with anything I need,” says Jariwala, who also moonlights as a fitness instructor at local gyms. “I love working in a university environment. The students keep me young, and I’m surrounded by brilliance and energy.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
President and CEO at FreshForm
Scott Robinson believes every company is on its way to becoming a technology company, and the separation between traditional and digital branding is a thing of the past. Now everything revolves around user experience, dictated by perception and reputation. At Robinson’s design and innovation agency, he helps clients like Reef, Ballast Point, and Eagle Creek cultivate their identities in ways that are valuable or meaningful to their business or community.
FreshForm primarily supports businesses in technology, education, finance, and health care, handling marketing and social media, brand strategy, website design and development, and customer experience. Robinson’s first major client was American Honda. Word of mouth helped him land the account, and he revamped auto dealership training programs for all Honda and Acura brands in the country.
“The business foundation was one of the most important pieces to my education,” says Robinson, a native San Diegan who studied graphic design and business at SDSU. “It’s important that young designers take a stronger interest in business early in their career.”
As a new graduate, he started out working for a large tech company, later landing a job at an internet startup that was eventually acquired. On January 1, 2001 (“the ultimate nerdy binary date”), he started his own business out of a garage—which he quickly outgrew. Today, FreshForm has 15 employees and an office in the historic Mission Brewery Plaza building near the airport.
Outside of consulting for clients and mentoring the FreshForm team, Robinson leads a local nonprofit called the Design Forward Alliance. For up-and-comers, he recommends investing in the best hardware and software tools available, and preparing for unexpected economic challenges.
“Hiring top talent but holding them back with mediocre tools is like getting into a Ferrari and not letting it out of second gear,” Robinson says.
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Tim Stahl 619-987-8763
Sales Manager at Pizza Port, Board Member and President Emeritus of the San Diego Brewers Guild
“Beer has transcended time and place and culture and civilization,” says Jill Davidson. “It’s always been at the center of community, and I think that’s something worth perpetuating, celebrating, and remembering.”
Davidson has made it her mission to celebrate beer on a daily basis. She started at Pizza Port as a bartender in 2010 and then worked her way up to sales manager.
She manages a team of five reps across three states, “all in the spirit of spreading good cheer” about her company. She also remains an active board member for the San Diego Brewers Guild, which was founded in 1997 as a way to promote local breweries and create a strong local beer community.
Among their many efforts, they’re responsible for November’s annual San Diego Beer Week festivities. “When I got approached with the opportunity to join the board, I was completely humbled and honored,” she says. In 2016, when the previous president stepped down, she was elected interim president—a position she held until last month. She will stay on the board as president emeritus for another year to “keep the momentum moving forward in a positive direction.”
Though Davidson is truly passionate about her job, she doesn’t take it too seriously. “At the end of the day, remember—it’s just beer.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Director of New Play Development at La Jolla Playhouse
Gabriel Greene is a lousy mechanic—”I can’t change my oil, and I don’t know where to start taking apart a clock”—but not when it comes to putting together a play.
As director of new play development at La Jolla Playhouse, Greene is pitched roughly 500 scripts per year and helps handpick just six to feed into the production pipeline.
That’s the worst part of his job— “saying no to 90 percent of what comes across my desk.” The best part, to quote Hamilton, is being in the room where it happens. He says he sometimes has to rub his eyes in disbelief. “It’s an honor being entrusted to bring writers’ stories and voices to life.”
Shepherding projects from script to curtain call is what the field of dramaturgy is about. During his 10-year run at the playhouse, he’s brought more than two dozen original plays to fruition, including the multiyear making of Up Here, by the songwriters of Frozen. He also has assisted in producing four consecutive seasons of all-new work. Eleven plays he’s touched have gone to New York.
But breaking out of San Diego isn’t how the Playhouse measures success, he notes. It’s whether a play speaks meaningfully to the local community.
Greene came to San Diego from Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre Company after realizing the playhouse was “one of the most eclectic theaters I’ve ever come across.”
His advice for others looking to work in play development? “See as much theater as you can to find out what type galvanizes you. Then, bug artistic directors relentlessly.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Executive Vice President of Action Sports and Olympics at Wasserman Media
She’s been called one of the most influential women in action sports—for good reason. Circe Wallace started her career as a pro snowboarder in the ’90s, and from there, she found her path in the industry. “I worked with various brands, including Vans and Ride Snowboards, to develop some of the first women-specific products in the space,” she says. “After a couple of knee surgeries, I parlayed that into managing talent, specializing in action sports, and an expansion of the things I loved.”
Today, Wallace works with big names like Olympic medalist snowboarders Torah Bright, Scotty Lago, and Iouri Podladtchikov. She’s responsible for developing, securing, and managing brand relationships for the athletes she represents. “Part of my expertise is in content, developing film and TV,” she says, referring to a slate of successes in developing various properties with her clients in traditional and new media.
Wallace’s typical workday starts with trying to get her daughters to school on time. Then it’s “either a desk day or a travel day meeting with clients, negotiating deals, conflict resolution, maybe a little counseling, and a lot of fun.”
It may sound like a dream job, but she points out it’s not an easy career. “Be tough, work hard, and remember that anything is possible if you keep a focus, set and achieve goals, and work your butt off.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Interactive Editor for San Diego Tourism Authority
Brent Bernasconi might have the world’s easiest job: convincing people to vacation in San Diego. As Visit San Diego’s social media guru, he’s in charge of picking the prettiest sunset photos for Instagram and coming up with the cleverest weather-related memes for Twitter.
But it’s not all rainbows and beaches, says the lifelong San Diegan. “We try to get people to see that we also have a thriving arts culture and booming restaurant scene.”
And though his day-to-day isn’t as glamorous as his posts that receive double taps—Bernasconi says he’s deskbound about 80 percent of the time—the job does have its share of pinch-me moments, like when he got to take his wife to a swanky chef’s dinner in La Jolla. “Here we were at The Lodge at Torrey Pines, enjoying wine, the sun was shining, and I’m thinking, ‘Holy crap, this is what I get paid to do.’”
His first position after graduating from the University of San Diego with a master’s degree in history was at the Air & Space Museum, where he started Balboa Park’s first Twitter account.
For social media managers in the making, he recommends: “Know what Snapchat is. Prove that you can understand the social media scene and explain the ROI, why someone should be investing in social media.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Director of the Qualcomm Institute’s Power of NeuroGaming Center
Can video games make the world a better place for people on the autism spectrum? That’s what neuroscientist Leanne Chukoskie hopes to find out.
A self-proclaimed video-game lover and mother of two teen boys, Chukoskie studies the potential for gaming to help people with autism train their brains through eye-movement therapy. At UC San Diego, she and her team create “gaze-contingent” video games—games you control with your eyes—to help individuals with autism improve focus and manage ADHD.
At the soon-to-be-launched Power of NeuroGaming Center (appropriately nicknamed PoNG), they’ll make their game design and development skills available to other researchers in the UCSD community, while an internship program provides real-world work experience for young adults with autism.
“There’s a lot of focus on early intervention and identification, but autism is a lifelong disorder,” she says, adding that the transition to adulthood is especially tough for people on the spectrum, since most autism-support programs end after high school. Many lack the “soft skills” crucial for acing a job interview or reading social cues to learn how to behave in an office setting.
“They’re wickedly smart, and yet they’re not engaging in the workforce.” With the internship program, she hopes to create a work environment more sensitive to the unique needs of people on the spectrum, while giving them the tools to design games of their own.
Chukoskie was able to create her dream job after double majoring in anthropology and neural science at the University of Pennsylvania, followed by a PhD in neuroscience, specializing in eye movements. “I want to use my research position to create more games for good,” she says.
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Lesley Vu
Tech Evangelist at Intuit
“Even Intuit people want to know what the heck my title is,” Aliza Carpio says. “It’s the best conversation starter.” As tech evangelist, Carpio focuses on building the brand of Intuit—the business and finance software company behind products like TurboTax and QuickBooks—and creating an engaging, supportive culture for their engineers.
Carpio has coded, managed programs, and consulted for companies like Hewlett-Packard and Kimberly-Clark. Using her tech base, she organizes events, spearheads partnerships, and hosts meet-up groups—all to build Intuit’s “street cred.” Internally, she arranges annual hackathons, hosts tech talks for staff, and is committed to diversity in the industry. She’s the sole female board member at local startup incubator EvoNexus, is on the leadership team of Girl Develop It, a nonprofit for women who want to get into software development, and she helps organize Intuit’s mentoring programs.
“Creating diverse teams is a journey for all of tech,” she says. “It requires men and women from every background. It doesn’t start in college. We need to start thinking of community partnerships to influence young women. And it’s not just Intuit that’s doing this.”
Carpio’s other mission is to fix San Diego’s “brain drain”—when local talent flees the city for seemingly greener pastures (i.e., Silicon Valley). Carpio herself interviewed in the Bay Area but ultimately chose San Diego. “San Diego’s tech community is alive and well. You don’t have to leave. You can code and surf and eat tacos and make an impact.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Director of Reproductive Sciences at San Diego Zoo Global’s Institute for Conservation Research
Barbara Durrant has most working professionals’ morning routines beat. Many days before 10 a.m., she’s rubbing the bellies of rhinos. Though it may be a warm and fuzzy image, it addresses a serious concern: extinction.
From her lab at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, Durrant leads a team of 18 researchers and oversees experimentation and processes that encourage species reproduction, including hormone monitoring and stem cell biology. Her job takes her from animal enclosures in Escondido to partner research centers in China, Japan, and India, to name a few.
For 20 years, Durrant had a hand in the zoo’s giant panda breeding program, which has succeeded in producing six cubs, the first by artificial insemination, the rest naturally.
“There’s so many things we don’t know about the reproductive processes of these animals,” she explains. “It takes years to figure out what’s going on. We are learning things no one has ever learned before.”
Durrant has been with the San Diego Zoo for 38 years, beginning as a postdoctorate researcher after earning her PhD in reproductive physiology. An undergraduate reproductive sciences class sparked her interest in the field. “Take every science class you can; they’re all valuable to you,” she advises.
Her passion has paid off, particularly for the Frozen Zoo, which today houses over 10,000 living cell cultures, sperm, and other genetic material from almost 1,000 species and subspecies. It’s fueling hope for the zoo’s effort to revive the endangered northern white rhino. Only three remain alive today, but the Frozen Zoo holds embryos and sperm from the subspecies. Durrant’s never-been-done-before idea? Use southern white rhinos as surrogates.
“If every step goes according to plan, we could have a calf in the next 10 years.” And another belly to rub.
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Director of the Center for Climate Change Impacts and Adaptation at UCSD’s Scripps Institution of Oceanography
After spending 20 years monitoring Hawaiian sea-level rise, Mark Merrifield is riding a new wave of discovery from his alma mater as the inaugural director of the Center for Climate Change Impacts and Adaptation. Launched in 2015, the center hosts a hotbed of marine and atmospheric scientists with research rooted in climate change and connections to policymakers with the clout to combat it.
“The impacts will be very severe unless we find ways to limit greenhouse gas emissions,” Merrifield says. Born in Hawai‘i and raised in Orange County, he joined the center in September following a directorship at the University of Hawai‘i Sea Level Center. “I had gotten to a point in my research that proved sea-level rise problems are very apparent. Now as director, I’m seeing to it that my and others’ research is being translated into actionable activities.”
This includes expanding on some of his existing fieldwork and coordinating with government agencies—the Department of Defense, to observe sea-level rise near local military bases, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, to build a national seasonal forecast system with insight into how sea levels affect coastal flooding.
Merrifield will teach at UCSD in the 2018–19 academic year in addition to building relationships around the county to fuel public outreach about how climate change affects San Diego.
“The best part of my job is definitely meeting students and faculty who are excited about getting involved in the center. That constantly motivates me.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
Senior Manager of Marketing and Public Relations for the Farmers Insurance Open at Century Club of San Diego
Gema Tarango Deleon wears a lot of hats. Oddly enough, none of them are golf caps.
Working under the nonprofit planning organization Century Club of San Diego, Deleon has a hand in all aspects of marketing the three-day leg of the PGA Tour that swings into Torrey Pines once a year.
From placing advertisements—some of which are her own design—to planning events “outside of the ropes,” to riding around in a golf cart to document the tournament live on social media, she says she rarely finds time to play golf herself. Then again, she never has.
“That’s the funniest part,” she says. “But it also really speaks to our organization and that we don’t want to put on just a golf tournament. It’s about putting on a community event.”
Still, Deleon’s interest in sports began at young age. She played softball growing up, and became interested in marketing as a freshman at SDSU.
Recognizing herself as a minority in the sports industry, she got ahead in the early years of her career by founding the San Diego chapter of Women in Sports and Events, a nonprofit networking group.
“Being a woman is actually a check mark in the positive column in this industry, because you provide a perspective that folks aren’t used to,” she says, and notes of San Diego’s sports industry: “If you want to work here, know that someone already has the job you want. It’s a small market. Get involved early with volunteering and internships.”
15 Coolest Jobs in San Diego and How to Get Them
A conversation with Sebastián Morúa on art, community, and why the club’s future heroes should include the creatives helping build it
Sebastián Morúa is the Senior Vice President of Brand & Innovation for San Diego FC. He oversees Playmakers, the program through which the club has, over the past three years, engaged with over 80 working artists—not as marketing partners, but as co-creative directors.
Morúa didn’t build Playmakers as a community-outreach program bolted onto a Major League Soccer franchise. He built it as the identity of the franchise. When we sat down, he talked about the World Cup, San Diego’s creative workforce, his challenge to other sports franchises in the city, and the mural of heroes he hopes people will see one day when they close their eyes and picture San Diego FC.
Sebastián Morúa: I want to answer that in two parts. Philosophically first—because I think what you’re really asking is why should any sports team do this when most don’t.
Sport is a platform for transformation. It has proven that over and over. We saw it this summer with countries participating in the World Cup for the first time and what that did in their home countries—the sense of self-identification, pride, possibility. That is the power of sport.
When you take a sports team that’s fueled by that principle and understands what it could mean for other stakeholders in a community, you start to think about what you can accomplish in collaboration with them. One of those stakeholders, very early on, was the creative community. If we were going to build a team that represents this place and its people, we needed to go to the source. Artists are uniquely positioned to translate the essence and the soul of a community. When you zoom out and look at the multitude of artists in a place, you start to see the fabric of that local culture. That’s where the sense of pride and possibility gets unlocked.
Our mission is to create opportunities for talent to flourish and make San Diego shine. That means the club is a platform. When we started doing the early research for the brand, we brought artists into our focus groups. The response was immediate. There was a clear need. In 2024, we ran the first full year of what became Playmakers, working with more than 20 artists to help us tell the story of how San Diego FC could weave 18 distinct communities together.
We’re in the business of developing communities through sport. We’re not in the business of fútbol to entertain communities. That is an outcome—but not the purpose.
No. I wasn’t thinking about where this was going or how much it would cost. It instinctively felt aligned with our organizational purpose, and we made a decision to go for it. Now it’s become what it’s become.
If a fan closed their eyes 20 years from now and tried to paint a mural of the heroes that make up the club, they would see a big percentage of Playmakers artists on that mural. Ask any fan about the team they’ve supported for decades, and they’ll tell you about players, maybe a coach, maybe an owner. We’re expanding that. In our mural, there’ll be artists, entrepreneurs, community leaders, youth coaches. The community will be present.
Three to five years from now, Playmakers is an established community of creatives who have co-directed the identity of the club and the evolving identity of San Diego. If we keep the pace we’ve kept, we should have collaborated with 150 to 200 artists whose stories we’ve told and whose next steps we’ve helped support.
There’s a huge benefit for us as a club and as a brand. This is symbiotic. The artists have a need, we can support that need, and in return the community cares more about our club because of the investment we’re doing in the community. That’s what I would tell another organization.
San Diego is waking up to how much it has to offer the global conversation around culture. There’s a purity to life here—partly because of the weather, which allows us to spend so much time outside, in nature—and that exists alongside this incredible richness in food, music, art, and now sports.
I have a sense that San Diego is ready to unlock its full potential. You see it in the artists and creatives here. They’re ready. There’s very little hesitation. It’s more like: “Hell yeah, of course I want to do this. I know I’m talented. I’ve been waiting for something like this.”
That energy, combined with the unique lifestyle and character of this place, creates a really exciting sense of what San Diego can become in the years ahead.
I would ask: What would you say to the other big players in San Diego who are—or could be—shaping the cultural fabric of our community? Do they understand the symbiotic benefit? Are they supporting it?
Because Playmakers, in the end, is a cultural compass. It’s making sure that San Diego still feels—and will always feel—represented in the creative process of building San Diego FC and what that means for San Diego.
The pitch is a canvas. Athletes are painting collectively during every game. There is a story in every game. That’s the link between sport and art. At the core, it’s the same creative process.
Artists and advocates are building a more sustainable creative future through public funding, political organization, and cross-border collaboration
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act III. See Act I and Act II here.
We’ve been here before.
In 2012, city funding for the arts and culture in San Diego had eroded. As a corrective, the city council unanimously approved “Penny for the Arts”—a promise to dedicate roughly one penny of every dollar spent on hotel rooms (the Transient Occupancy Tax, or TOT).
The logic was fair and sound: Cultural institutions and events help attract visitors. Those visitors pay hotel taxes. So, the people agreed, some of that hotel-tax revenue should go back into maintaining the cultural ecosystem that helps bring those visitors and that money.
Projected as a five-year plan, the measure was supposed to increase funding to $17.9 million by 2017.
It never did. The penny was never guaranteed, so each year the city used part of it for other priorities. By 2023, the money going to arts and culture was up to about a half a penny. Even as TOT revenue has gone up significantly.
In 2019, TOT revenue was $245 million.
In 2025: $325 million.
One fix would be to guarantee the penny. Not simple, given San Diego’s financial woes. But the alternative—eroding the culture that makes San Diego San Diego, give it its identity—also doesn’t feel wise. Plus, even a locked percentage still rises and falls with tourism, which is why culture advocates want a guaranteed floor on top of it.
Another solution would be to give the arts commission actual authority.
“It’s an advisory body,” says arts commissioner Kamaal Martin. “You’d be hard-pressed to find anybody who takes our advice.”

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

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

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

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

It’s like saying the only good food is made by gritty upstarts who crafted their own whisks from discarded shopping carts. Most of those plucky whisk-makers would love to eventually be paid properly, would love a stage, a grant, a building, a donor, a lighting rig, health insurance, maybe even one chair that doesn’t threaten the spine.
That’s what the major institutions do. Both stages—the duct-taped and the donored—serve vital roles and deserve commensurate support if we care about the entire lifespan of creative expression and not just its first exciting steps. Championing the starving artist exclusively just secures an enduring poverty for the creative class at large.
I’ve often theorized it’s harder to create great art and culture in cities like San Diego, where the climate is supernaturally pleasant. In colder/hotter/rainier/less beautiful cities, people are forced indoors to fabricate their own beauty (the grunge music of Seattle, the obscene creative output of Reykjavík). San Diego’s eternally mild sunshine tends to make the human body our art medium of choice. But scratch the surface of that surf poster (and I’ve only scratched a miniscule percent here), and this city’s far from the cultural shallows it gets accused of being.
Addendum: A Personal Agenda. In scouting the route of art and culture across San Diego county through history, two areas come up again and again: La Jolla and Barrio Logan. So I propose a collaboration between two icons of artful concrete—Chicano Park and Salk Institute (one of the world’s great examples of brutalism architecture). Let Barrio Logan’s muralists go nuts on that coastal science fortress, unite the realms for a moment in time.
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act II. See Act I and Act III here.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
At Vi at La Jolla Village, residents don't have to choose between security and adventure, connection and independence. They get all of it.
Today’s seniors are more connected than ever, with a renewed focus on retirement as a time of discovery and enriching experiences. The ultimate reward for a retirement well-earned is the wisdom to appreciate it all, and what better place to enjoy that unique perspective than Vi at La Jolla Village, in the heart of San Diego.
All-access pass to good living.
As a Continuing Care Retirement Community (CCRC), Vi provides access to a connected and fulfilling community while making it easy to plan for future care, should the need ever arise. With a care plan in place, residents enjoy greater financial predictability and long-term value, freeing them to focus on making the most out of retirement.
Resort-style amenities at the epicenter of a cultural hub like San Diego offer a retirement experience unlike any other. Paired with exceptional dining, spacious accommodations and dedicated staff, the best of maintenance-free living is all around. And with the introduction of Vista 360 Well-Being, Vi’s panoramic approach to wellness, there are more ways than ever for residents to access it all.
The harmony of mind, body and community.

The key to longevity is striking the right balance in maintaining an active lifestyle with an active mind in a fulfilling community. With newly renovated community spaces and restaurants, Vista brings a variety of opportunities for residents to elevate their well-being through Vi-exclusive “Signature Experiences.”
Vista Enrich takes an evidence-based approach to brain vitality, keeping residents at the forefront of cognitive health through exergaming (exercising + gaming), nutritional plans and informative workshops. It is also home to The Brain Vitality Studio, an innovative facility dedicated to cognitive fitness that has garnered national recognition.
Vista Discover invites residents into stimulating educational experiences, from chef-led cooking demos and guided wine tastings to lectures at local universities and intimate lectures following cultural outings.
While Vista Enrich focuses on brain health and Vista Discover engages residents intellectually, Vista Explore cultivates a sense of adventure through curated travel and local excursions. But broadening one’s horizons doesn’t always require a plane ticket. One recent event brought a taste of the world right to the community: an onsite “jazz cruise” featuring live music and global cuisine served at a series of themed “ports” all within the community’s own ballroom.
“Location, location, location”

One of the biggest perks of life at Vi at La Jolla Village is its proximity to just about everything. With easy access to transportation and local attractions just steps away, residents can explore and engage with their community at their own pace.
“There are trolley and bus stops within a 5-minute walk that will get you to the beach, UCSD Campus, medical appointments, downtown La Jolla or San Diego, et cetera. We rarely use our car,” said resident Tom Yager.
With the best of San Diego just steps away, residents don’t just live in the city, they live within reach of everything that makes it special.
The best of all worlds.

At Vi at La Jolla Village, retirement isn’t a chapter to slow down; it’s an invitation to discover more. Tailored community experiences created by Vista, paired with the vibrant pulse of San Diego just outside the door, mean that residents don’t have to choose between security and adventure, connection and independence. They get all of it.
This is what an all-access pass to good living looks like: the comforts of an elevated lifestyle, a community built for growth and a city made for discovery – all in one place.
To learn more about Vi at La Jolla Village or for details on available floor plans, visit ViatLaJollaVillage.com/SDM.
The city’s cultural sector regained millions after a proposed 85 percent cut, yet nonprofits, youth programs and major institutions still face painful losses
This is part of a three-part series. This is Act I. See Act II and Act III here.
Every spring, Christine Martinez reaches out to the arts community to explain what’s on the line, hoping they’ll engage with the city’s budget process. Cultural funding, she constantly reminds, is almost always strapped to the guillotine. Especially in a city strapped for cash.
“It’s not an easy ask,” says Martinez, manager of Arts+Culture:San Diego. “Showing up is a real cost for small, volunteer-run groups that can’t spare half a day at City Council without possibly having to close their doors.”
Then, last April—with one day’s notice to arts leaders—Mayor Todd Gloria proposed a budget that didn’t trim arts funding; it eviscerated it, from $13.8 million to $2 million. An 85 percent slash. Other city departments faced cuts of about 7 percent.
The scheduled date of the cuts was just three months away (beginning of the fiscal year). Organizational leaders have to plan months if not years ahead to run their organizations. They had made hires, dedicated spending, and programmed their seasons based on a reasonable expectation that support for the arts would be somewhat in line with previous years. (The City has allotted at least $7 million a year to arts every year for the last 20 years, and the last four years have ranged between $13.8 and $18.2 million.)
The day felt even more existential given the national and international climate around the arts: namely, the federal government’s repeated proposal to eliminate the country’s two biggest cultural foundations (NEA and NEH), and the global trend of AI replacing more costly human creatives.
“It shocked everybody,” says Kamaal Martin, arts commissioner and co-founder of Art Power Equity. “If the message had been, ‘Times are tough, everybody tighten their belts a little,’ it would have landed differently. But there was no vision offered for the future, no parity in the cut. It was just, essentially, ‘Fuck you.’”
Among things I’m good at—sleeping late, low bidding for expensive shoes on Poshmark, parallel parking on either side of the street—budget analysis isn’t among them. In trying to understand how bad the finances were for San Diego to propose this drastic cut, I found myself drowning in numbers, pie charts, and politi-speak.
In his April 27 newsletter, Gloria explained that balancing the budget means “asking hard questions about every single dollar this city spends: Is this a core responsibility of city government, or is it something we do when we can afford to?”
Fair enough—if he were to ask those hard questions about every single dollar this city spends. It also makes his conclusion clear: The City of San Diego does not view supporting arts and culture as a core responsibility.
Which begs more than a few questions: Should the City be responsible? If not, then who? How crucial are arts and culture to a city? And since this is a budget discussion, how much revenue does the arts and culture industry generate for San Diego? What’s the ROI?

$1.2 billion.
That’s how much economic activity San Diego’s arts and culture nonprofits generated in 2022, according to the City’s latest Arts & Economic Prosperity 6 report. The industry created nearly 17,000 jobs and generated $878 million of personal income for local residents. About 15 percent of the people showing up to arts events in San Diego are tourists, so money was raised through TOT (Transit Occupancy Tax). The activity generated $275.7 million in tax revenue to the city.
In other words, the ROI seems to be ROI-ing.
Still, there have been signs that cuts were coming. In 2025, the City demoted the Department of Cultural Affairs to a division, folding it into the Economic Development Department (EDD). That meant Cultural Affairs no longer had independence, nor its own leader sitting at the same organizational level as departments like parks and recreation, library, police, and fire. It lost institutional leverage and would now have to compete with other EDD priorities—real estate, airport operations, business development, etc.—for budget allocation.
To be clear, few arts administrators and leaders I spoke with are interested in the either/or false choice of funding law enforcement or after-school programs; the fire departments or libraries. They’re sincere in looking for solutions that don’t leave any single group with a greater burden of righting a long-out-of-balance budget.
Jennifer de Poyen, executive director of Space 4 Art, says Gloria had long been a supporter of the arts, which made his attempted Red Wedding especially upsetting.
Aaryn Belfer is a writer and editor specializing in nonfiction across art, architecture, and culture. Once upon a time, she wrote a provocative column for San Diego CityBeat (RIP). She was a runner up in the 2025 Matchbook Stories contest at the San Diego Central Library and is irrationally happy about it. Currently in her Soft Girl Era, Aaryn has expensive taste in (mostly flat) shoes and will choose a great art exhibit or live jazz concert over almost anything else. Except, possibly, Javier Bardem.
Meet the artists, makers, and advocates whose work shapes how the city looks, sounds, gathers, and connects
San Diego is full of people who deserve a few thousand words on what they make, who they bring together, and how their work changes the city around them. The artists, makers, advocates, and behind-the-scenes talent below are a small part of that larger ecosystem.
To help us narrow our list, we looked for names that kept coming up, work that reflects the diversity of our region, and people building something bigger than themselves.
Jackie is a long-time freelance journalist covering cannabis, food/restaurants, travel, labor, wine, spirits, arts & culture, design, and other topics. Her work has been selected twice for Best American Travel Writing, and she has won a variety of national and local awards for her writing and reporting.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Matt Eisenberg is an award-winning writer and photographer based in San Diego. A former ESPN editor, his work has also been published by CNN, Bleacher Report and the New York Daily News.
Aaryn Belfer is a writer and editor specializing in nonfiction across art, architecture, and culture. Once upon a time, she wrote a provocative column for San Diego CityBeat (RIP). She was a runner up in the 2025 Matchbook Stories contest at the San Diego Central Library and is irrationally happy about it. Currently in her Soft Girl Era, Aaryn has expensive taste in (mostly flat) shoes and will choose a great art exhibit or live jazz concert over almost anything else. Except, possibly, Javier Bardem.
Leorah Gavidor won her first essay contest at age 5. She writes features, news, and non-fiction in San Diego.
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
Emma Veidt is an editor at San Diego Magazine. She earned her bachelor's and master's degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism. She loves running, hiking, and rock climbing, but really, she mostly loves encounters with the street cats around North Park.
Gail Czyszczon is owner/copywriter at Z3 Writing and best-selling author of a children’s book series. As a strategic communications professional and editorialist, she's passionate about discovering untold stories and themes that ignite fresh conversation and true change in communities.
Laika Nur, MD, takes her love of volleyball from the court to the clinic as team physician for the San Diego Mojo
Growing up, Laika Nur, MD, Scripps Clinic sports medicine specialist, loved watching beach volleyball when the Association of Volleyball Professionals tour came to her hometown of Chicago. A talented volleyball player herself, she remembers sitting in the stands all day, and once, even got a couple autographs. Years later, Dr. Nur was attending a professional event focused on women’s sports, and the discussion turned to a new professional women’s volleyball league. The general manager and coaching staff for San Diego’s team, the Mojo, happened to be in attendance, and Dr. Nur took the opportunity to ask them if they needed a team doctor. Flash forward to the Mojo’s inaugural 2024 season, when Dr. Nur officially became the team physician. Click here to read more about Dr. Nur and how she incorporates lessons she learned on the court into her practice.
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