What is a perfect summer day in the city of Long Beach, CA? One that starts with an impromptu meet up with an old friend. As I walk down The 4th Street Corridor, he spots me through the window of his creative studio space. I am greeted with a warm hug, the fresh scent of palo santo, and the sound of “Sixteen” by Rick Ross featuring Andre 3000 mellowing through his speakers.

Native to the ground on which his business stands, Ryan Hoyle has strengthened his position in this community as a leader who innovates with the art and impact space that is Play Nice. For the past five years it has anchored the cultural and creative arts scene in Long Beach—providing opportunities for collaboration, education, entertainment, and on days like today—meaningful conversation.

The success we see today is as Hoyle says—“just the manifestation of everything under the tip of the iceberg.” In this conversation, he invites us into the waters to take notice of what lies between the depths and the surface.

‍The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.

‍Take me back to the beginning. How did the founding of Play Nice come about?

I was in a state of transition after finishing up grad school at LMU [Loyola Marymount University], and one of my homies told me about the opportunity to go in on this spot [Play Nice]. The two guys [former founders] opening it up wanted a third person, and had the idea of it being a vintage sports shop—jerseys, tees, vintage sportswear . . . I was more so interested in the apartment available upstairs haha. 

‍I am not mad at that.

Exactly. This was something I never predicted happening, but it was an opportunity that came. The program I had just completed at LMU was in counseling, so I asked myself—How do I bridge the gap between this education that I just paid $60,000 for and this vintage entrepreneurial endeavor? I wanted to think of a way to engage people and pull up. So I thought, cool—we’ll do arts and culture programming, we’ll add an education element to it, and we’ll just be here as tastemakers. That became my role—curating art shows, developing programs for Long Beach youth and young adults, you know, things like financial literacy seminars, first time home buying workshops, and community conversations. Things of that nature. 

‍This became a spot where people could come find community . . .

Yeah, and learn about resources that are available to them as well. We started partnering with the Arts Council of Long Beach to amplify some of our work through some of their grant programs and different partnerships with them . . . being able to get it on a level to where folks were familiar with the space and what it was. During this time, too, was the departure of the clothing element and more so a focus on just events and programs. This was like 20 . . . 2019.

‍Right before the [COVID-19] pandemic. How were you able to sustain Play Nice once that ensued?

As a spot that made a large part of our revenue from event rentals—people doing pop-ups, hosting their own art shows, meetings, podcasts, filming, you name it . . . obviously the pandemic stifled a lot of that, but the pivot was us going into community service mode. How do we help the people that need it most? We were able to fortunately say that we had the privilege of being okay during that time—health-wise, mentally, and financially. Having the tools to kind of like, compartmentalize and deal with the ambiguity that the pandemic brought. I feel like that’s one of my superpowers for real . . .

‍Compartmentalizing . . .

Yeah, well just dealing with ambiguity. I don’t have to know it all, but I know what I know, and I know I’ll figure it out. That’s like my North Star.

‍That’s a great philosophy to have. What’s an example of how you were able to serve this community during that time?

One of the things I'm most proud of here was being an early adopter of the community fridge model through LA Community Fridge (LACF). I think we were the second fridge. They had one . . . I saw a friend of mine post it and I tapped in with them immediately. Like, yo—we need a fridge in Long Beach. So they [LACF] donated one. We kept it clean, kept it stocked, and I feel like a lot of people have tapped in with Play Nice the space, Play Nice the brand—just through that initiative. The motto was “Take what you need, leave what you don’t,” and just seeing people be able to come and grab what they needed without being needs tested . . . you know—there’s a big thing of like “I'm poor” but, “Are you poor enough to get these social services?” It was a rare opportunity where that wasn’t a thing. You just come up, open the fridge—whatever’s in there that you want, open that mf and take it.

That was a major highlight. 

‍What did business look like for Play Nice when things started to open back up?

Coming out of the pandemic, if you were blessed to have your life still, it was really like—anything’s possible. For a while, all signs pointed virtual. But we’re seeing now more than ever that people want to connect with people. So, we started to ramp it up with the folks who started their businesses during COVID. This was the first time they were able to do pop-ups and tap in with their supporters face to face. We also had a lot of folks rent the spot out for podcasts, short films . . . shout out to Creative Ground Agency, and Rob and the whole gang. They filmed countless episodes of two series they're working on (I think one hasn’t been released yet)—but A Seat At The Table is what it’s called. They're just so organized. I love seeing the work, you know, of a full Black team of videographers and creative directors, set designers, lighting people, you know what I mean? 

‍What’s your favorite part about hosting collaborations here with fellow artists and entrepreneurs? 

Just seeing Black people come in here and be able to create things I never imagined were possible. Of course, we [Play Nice] have our own programs, but seeing people have their own visions for the space, articulate them, and execute them is special. That’s our overall mission—to be a space to let magic flow. Like, yo—we here for whatever it is. We’re a catalyst, or a conduit. We’re just here to get out the way and let God do His thing.

‍That has to be fulfilling.

Yeah—especially as a person who was born and raised here. We needed a spot like this in the city. We needed a gathering place.

‍What experience can someone expect to have when entering Play Nice on a regular day like today, versus when an event is taking place?

A typical day like this . . . I would equate it to office hours. This is the mellow, come in here and chat time. You know what I mean? Somebody will walk in here, see a shirt they gravitate to, grab a zine—I rotate this stuff all the time. I have a crazy repository of just like, visual art, literature—stuff that people could gravitate to [and] get inspiration for any projects they might be working on. We have merchandise, but no one is breathing down your neck to get you to buy anything. You can just come in here and kick it, and talk, network . . . if you walk in and decide you want to do something here—okay, let’s talk and figure it out.

As for event days, event days are great. I love pulling up . . . the shop is clean. I get a good sage up, check the vibe, and be well calibrated and just ready. You know—on event days it’s so many people, so many interactions, so many different energies. People are excited to be here, excited to support, excited for whatever’s going on—the energy is infectious. And the best part [for me] is being a fly on the wall to enjoy it all. A lot of people don’t know that I own and operate the space, so I get to be here as a guest too. 

‍Another cool part—because you’ve hosted so many different events, we don’t really know what to expect each time we come. They’re all so uniquely their own.

Right? I love it. There’s so many different crowds. 

‍How have you been able to obtain such a large and diverse group of supporters?

We know what everybody “thinks they know” about how to market socially, right? But I feel like my view on it may be unpopular. We hear all the time, “Consistency, consistency, consistency.” And I will never downplay consistency as a skill or a practice. But, consistency in terms of me posting all the time on the Play Nice instagram, or feeling like I have to dump out all this content—that’s never been my thing. Not for me personally, and it’s not reflected through my business. I don’t post that much, but when I do post, you know that’s like that bat signal, and I feel that’s something that I’m great at. I don’t tire my supporters out. People aren’t tired of me and the support never drops. I can post a flyer to Play Nice right now and it’ll be packed out in here on a three day notice. I almost have to do things with a three-four day notice, because I realize the limitations of this space. I know the type of experience I want for the people to come and to support these events. I don’t want 500 people packed out here—it’s not going to be comfortable, we can’t sustain that, it’s not feasible. So we do that three day roll out. Whoever’s close, whoever wants to come, whoever writes it down and wants to make that push from LA—if you want to be here you’ll be here, and if not that’s fine, there’ll be another one for you. We’re going to get whoever’s destined to be here. I’m never worried about that. 

‍I like that. Intuitively you know what works for you and your business, and you’ve found success honoring that.

It can be so backwards from what people in business think. The books will tell you this, the classes will tell you that, your professor will tell you this . . . what the f— did you do? You have to do what works for you and tailor it. Some people say, “You’re never open.” Well, I’m open now, what you tryin’ to get? Haha. This is not a store, I don’t have any hours on the door. I'm not bound to that. My thing is efficiency. This is my studio, a creative concept space—and that’s how I treat it.

‍Sitting here with you and listening to the full story—it’s just so clear that you were always meant to be here, have this space, and do the work you’re doing.

This is just the manifestation of everything that's under the tip of the iceberg. I was telling someone the other day—I’m from here, I don’t have anything to prove to anybody. I went to LB Poly, Cal State LB, went and moved away, got life experience, traveled around the world, and came back. Got my masters, and opened a business in the city that I’m from. I’m accessible, people can come talk to me. I’ve got a wealth of knowledge and experience that I share with folks on the daily, not unsolicited, but people know who they can talk to for certain sh– and they know where to come. This is the intersection of all my hobbies, passions . . . this is fun. There’s no pressure.

‍How has owning this significant space for others to just come and be impacted you?

I’m just thankful to have this space where people can come and feel safe. I’m thankful for the knowledge or understanding that it’s bigger than me. There are times where it doesn’t make sense why I’m still doing this—or seemingly it doesn’t make sense, right? I think my mom made a comment when I first got here, saying: “You just went to LMU to go sell old t-shirts.” I was like, “Damn, when you put it like that haha.” But now we see what’s come of it. We’ve been in the LA Times, have been written up by every publication in Long Beach, and started to really branch out. I’ve done collabs with the city, city entities—Complex, big brands . . . but we’ve still got the mystique. I’ve created and sustained a place where you know—I’ve introduced homies to their girlfriends here, I’ve introduced business partners here. It’s crazy to see what this little spot of mine is doing. Seeing the takeaways for people brings me all the joy in the world. I experience these full circle moments and in-depth interactions where folks tell me about fulfilling experiences they’ve had here. Whether from an event or just stopping by one day to chop it up. It’s reassuring to have those interactions. I’m God-fearing and believe my steps are ordered, but there’s no truer time where it’s confirmed like these instances.