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Eric Sacks presides over the Quixotic World, an event space he operates out of his living quarters in a vintage Piggly Wiggly on Akard, south of downtown Dallas.

On a nondescript downtown block within walking distance of Dallas City Hall, change is slowly overtaking the dingy concrete landscape.

The new Buzz lofts have been erected in bold, modern lines on one side of South Akard Street, portending the future of the Cedars neighborhood.

Directly across the street, however, is a sign of what the Cedars was, and in many ways, still is.

A long, brick building with the faded words "Piggly-Wiggly" on the façade looks, at first, as if it might be an abandoned structure. The building, built in 1923, not only housed a grocery store but also the 32-room, 16-bath Newland Hotel above it, which was once considered a fleabag motel used as a place to crash by crack addicts.

Upon closer inspection, though, evidence of life abounds, from curtains in the windows to business signs painted on storefronts.

Long dismissed as a viable neighborhood, the area across Interstate 30 East, just south of downtown, has been gaining momentum as a gathering spot for artists and activists. But it's the area's past that first drew people to the Cedars; the old warehouses, long-shuttered storefronts and loft spaces make for hip, affordable living and working. According to the building's landlord, Paul Cook, the Cedars was the first part of town to be zoned for a live/work environment.

Today the historic building is occupied by 18 not-so-everyday people. Drawn to the neighborhood and the vintage grocery storefront by the vibe as much as the rent, some of its residents have downsized to living, working and entertaining in one big space.

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Gus Klein's private life is sandwiched between his sales counter at the front of the shotgun space and the laboratory at the rear, where he concocts fragranced home and body products.

Behind his front door, Gus Klein, entertainment and environmental reporter for the Dallas Voice, is a different man. The name of his company, Garner Franklin Klein, painted in gold letters, sounds as if it heralds a law firm or a design studio. So it's a bit of a shock, once inside, to see a large table laden with fragrant soy candles, bath salts, goat-milk soaps and scented-oil diffusers.

Mr. Klein, 33, the man behind Garner Franklin Klein Bath Body Home, has been creating potions and lotions in sustainable packaging for seven years. His products are sold at Voyager Trading Company and Mr. Klein's storefront.

"I chose to go this route because it was fun and had a low rejection approach, compared to my original passion to be an actor," he says.

He used to live in an apartment off Maple Avenue near Parkland Hospital , but in his search for a retail location, he realized he could live and work in the same space and in what he calls an "artisanal neighborhood."

"This is a peculiar mix down here. Dallas tends to go where something is already built, and this neighborhood isn't built yet," he says.

Behind a gauzy curtain that separates his shop from his private space, Mr. Klein lives in a large, open room sectioned into quadrants for living, dining and sleeping. In a small alcove off the main room, he has set up a workroom where he stores his jars of fragrances, which he blends for his signature masculine, hearty scents.

Although his life is more compact, the move, he says, was a good decision. "I feel way ahead of my time. This neighborhood is really going to happen."

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Painter David Terry lives, works and sleeps among the mixed media of fellow artists, whom he showcases in his Cedars Art Gallery under the same roof.

David Terry says he ran away from home, and in both the literal and figurative senses, he did.

Mr. Terry has always painted; he is an accomplished portrait artist currently working on the Houston mayor's official portrait. But for 15 years he was also a trial lawyer.

"I decided it was killing me," he says of his days in the courtroom. "I wanted to take a break, try to get some breathing room."

So Mr. Terry, 49, began painting full-time. He found the Piggly-Wiggly space in the Cedars last February, painted the walls white and invited his friends over to view his newest work on Feb. 24. "I had well over 200 people in attendance and my friends said to me, 'David, this is a gallery.' And I said, 'No. It's a studio.' "

Eventually the friends won, and Mr. Terry changed his mind. On March 6 he obtained the zoning change that remade his studio space into the Cedars Art Gallery, which serves to showcase mostly local artists who work in a variety of media.

In mid-April, circumstances changed again. Mr. Terry separated from his wife of 20 years. Needing a place to stay, he moved into the gallery. Now his boiler room doubles as his closet, he no longer has a TV and all the wall space, even the spot above his bed, displays art for sale.

"You can say I downsized significantly." But, he says, the sacrifices have been worth it; he believes his gallery is a place to foster talent.

On June 24, Mr. Terry held the gallery's official grand opening, which attracted more than 300 people. In his search for breathing room, Mr. Terry found a whole new life path.

"I loved being a trial lawyer," Mr. Terry says. "But ... I've got too much work [as an artist] to ever go back."

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There's no missing the front door to Eric Sacks' loft in the erstwhile Piggly Wiggly building.

Wearing a tall, black Willy Wonka-style hat, Eric Sacks explains that he runs a "theater house, a magical event space."

The 34-year-old moved into his loft more than three years ago with the goal of transforming it into a weird and wonderful spot to host, well, anything – from poetry slams to wedding receptions. He calls his place the Quixotic World. It's almost as an afterthought that he manages to squeeze some day-to-day livability out of the place.

For instance, he hides his TV under the room's main stage. A large piece of art for the wall doubles as his coffee table, and to make room for the bar, Mr. Sacks got rid of his stove.

"I prepare great sandwiches and salads," he says. "It's a sacrifice, but I need the space."

The idea for his business came "out of a dream, really," he says. He wrote a poem called "Dream Jobs" on the wall of the loft, professing in it his goal to be "an art gallery owner, mad painter and poet."

Working as a waiter to pay the bills, Mr. Sacks spends every spare penny on Quixotic World. The space, thanks to his sweat equity, offers a DJ booth, a seating area he calls "King David's lair," (including a harem-worthy bed where Mr. Sacks sleeps and where he says he's caught more than a few customers in loving embraces). The stage is illuminated by colored lights, the glow from an old 16-millimeter movie projector, candles and torches. He also is proud of the redecorated bathroom that features his masterwork: the "magic toilet" painted with blue sparkles.

"I am available for interior-design work," he notes.

In the boiler room, which doubles as his clothes closet and the place where he boards the cat during events, he keeps a stash of costumes. "I always dress my staff in costumes," he explains, adding that the "staff" is usually several of his friends. Rental price varies on the size and scale of the event. "It's very surreal when you walk in and there are all these characters here."

So far, Mr. Sacks' customers have not been unhappy with the result.

"People love it," he says.

•Gus Klein's soy candles, lava rocks, bath salts, goat-milk soaps and scented-oil diffusers can be purchased at Voyager Trading Company, 4525 McKinney Ave., or by visiting his storefront at 1112 S. Akard St.

•For more information about David Terry's Cedars Art Gallery, go to www.cedarsartgallery.com.

•To book Eric Sacks' Quixotic World, go to thequixoticworld.com or call 469-879-7319.