At this tiny gallery by the beach, there’s more than meets the eye.

San Francisco’s Outer Sunset is a neighborhood packed with pastel-colored family homes and a wind that streams through its sprawling, rectangular blocks. While its charms include proximity to Ocean Beach, wide streets, and a calming quietude, it’s not known for music venues or cultural spaces. Filling that void is The Honey Hive, a small venue, gallery, and studio space on Judah and 46th that hosts local creatives, visual art displays, and a rotating cast of musicians onstage every weekend. 

The building’s façade is adorned with a mural of bees and honeycombs, concealing a surprising number of artistic endeavors: a recording studio (which chiefly produces hip-hop tracks), the Tarantula on Stilts hair salon, the Mylar-covered practice space of The Genie (an experimental electronic musician), and the titular venue. The Honey Hive also offers a range of workshops—collage, screenprinting, spoken word, figure drawing, DJing, and more—in addition to its gallery and venue functions. 

Four years ago, Topher Knoll founded the Honey Hive with a plan to emphasize the intersection of visual arts and environmental sustainability. Soon, Danny Berliner joined him, working to get the building in shape. Open mics and music gigs soon followed. Berliner, who also performs in local hip-hop group Bottled Water, has been the pillar of the Honey Hive since he took over from Knoll in February of 2014. With the exception of some volunteer help, he runs it single-handedly. 

Over the years, the Hive has expanded into a showcase for artists of all mediums. Despite some early financial difficulties, the space has thrived, led by the founding ethos of “community-minded goals” with an ecological and social justice bent. Says Berliner: “In a place where there are fewer and fewer creative spaces that are able to survive, just based on the financial and economic climate of the Bay, we really give up-and-coming artists a chance to showcase their work and have a space to feel more comfortable. In San Francisco, a lot of bigger galleries and venues really require you to bring in a lot of people and a lot of money. Because it’s such an intimate space, the relationship between the artist and the Honey Hive hasn’t been necessarily strained if not so many people show up.”

Berliner says that organizers attempt to strike a balance between nurturing emerging artists and lending space to the Hive’s established acts. And in keeping with its community-focused egalitarian bent, the Hive is judicious in the variety of musical acts it hosts—shows might feature “anything and everything,” from “lay-on-the-floor-and-chill ambient music to completely hardcore punk.” 

Rappers like Open Mike Eagle and Milo have taken the same stage as Ceschi, who mixes folk, punk, and rap, and Covet, a San Jose-based instrumental math rock outfit. For the last three months, the True Indigo installation, organized by artists Rose Cherami and Idhaz, paired ambient and electronic music with visual components like projectors and television screens, casting surreal visions throughout the space. “Honestly, it’s really hard to say who my favorites are who have come through the Honey Hive. There’s so many,” says Berliner.

With a maximum capacity of just 60 people, the Hive allows for an intimate experience of performances for a $10 suggested donation. Berliner is charitable: “We don’t turn anyone away due to lack of funds,” he notes. 

Though the Honey Hive is a lesser-known venue located in what some may consider the outskirts of San Francisco, it’s exemplary of what’s best about the city—the nexus of a truly independent and organic scene, mutually supportive and endlessly creative. It’s a testament to the persistence of the DIY ethic, and one hopes that these kinds of spaces will remain able to exist in San Francisco long into the future.