We Found a Safer, Bigger Space — Help Owl’s Eye Grow Into a True Creative Collective

Hi, I’m Michelle — the artist and owner behind Owl’s Eye Art Collective in Lowertown Saint Paul. Sorry this is long but its been a journey to get here.

Owl’s Eye didn’t just happen overnight. It’s the result of a lifetime of not giving up on creativity and community, even when the path forward wasn’t clear.

From an early age, art was my way of understanding the world. Growing up with dyslexia, ADHD, and auditory processing challenges, traditional learning was difficult for me. But art became my language — the place where I could express myself when words didn’t come easily. I held onto that.

I was once told I might not even graduate high school, but I kept going. I was accepted as one of the first post-secondary students at the College of Visual Arts during my senior year, and later went on to study there in Saint Paul, where I deepened my love for printmaking and for this city.

What made CVA so special wasn’t just the education — it was the community. It was a place where artists supported each other, grew together, and truly believed in one another. CVA used to be on Cathedral Hill and closed in 2012, but it was deeply connected to the strong Saint Paul and Lowertown art community. We even had our thesis gallery shows at A to Z Gallery, now The Burl, right here in Lowertown. That helped spark my love for this neighborhood and my dream of being an artist here.

Everywhere I go, I carry that with me. Community has always come first.

After college, like many artists, I struggled to figure out how to make a living doing what I loved. I worked in catering and events, where I discovered another passion — creating experiences that brought people together. That eventually led me to Nerdery, where I was hired as a facilities cleaner. Through persistence, hard work, and never giving up, I spent 10 years building and running an entire events and catering department.

I wasn’t just organizing events — I was creating moments where people felt connected and part of something. I’ve done countless fundraiser events and helped raise thousands of dollars over the years. Community, giving, and supporting others is where I feel whole.

Then everything changed in 2020.

When the pandemic hit, my role disappeared overnight. At the same time, I was navigating major personal changes and uncertainty about the future. Instead of giving up, I pivoted. I taught myself UX, became the first UX intern at Nerdery, and moved into website design, combining creativity with technology while still helping with online events and activities.

But I never let go of art. I saved up and bought a press six years after college, and I’ve continued doing art fairs and art projects ever since.

In 2021, I signed a lease for a small live/work storefront in the Rossmor Building in Lowertown. It felt like everything I had been working toward was finally happening. Owls have always shown me the way, and that was when Owl’s Eye really started to take shape. My twin sister made the original logo for Owl’s Eye.

But a week before I was supposed to move in, I experienced a mental health crisis and had to be hospitalized. At the time, we were still deep in COVID lockdown, and everything felt overwhelming and uncertain. I had to let the lease go. I had tried to take care of too many people and forgot about myself.

I was completely crushed. It felt like I had finally reached something I had been working so hard for — and then lost it before it even began.

But looking back now, I know I needed that time. My health wasn’t where it needed to be, and I had to step back and rebuild myself before I could build anything else.

That moment didn’t end the dream. It just delayed it.

And when the opportunity came again three years later, I was ready. I was going through a breakup and needed a place, but most of what I owned was my art supplies and a bed. I found a storefront with living space behind it — something incredibly rare, especially if you make too much to qualify for low-income artist housing. I signed the lease, and Owl’s Eye Art Collective was alive again.

I signed a lease on a small live/work first-floor storefront in Lowertown. Five days after getting the keys, I found out they were ripping up the sidewalk, removing the short-term parking in front, and putting in a bus stop — not just any stop, but a major Gold Line bus stop. I had no idea then how much trouble that would bring.

I built Owl’s Eye from the ground up — funding it myself through my UX/UI work, running classes, hosting events, and slowly building a community.

It wasn’t easy.

Shortly after getting the space up and running, I was laid off from my UX role — not because of my performance or work ethic, but because my position was tied to a month-to-month client contract that ended. It was completely out of my control.

That moment was scary. I had just taken on this space, invested everything I had into it, and suddenly lost the stability I had been relying on to support it.

But I didn’t give up.

I doubled down on Owl’s Eye. I kept teaching classes, hosting events, building community, and taking on freelance design work to keep everything going. I even went into a corporate contract role at Wells Fargo to keep building toward this dream. I figured it out the same way I always have — by continuing to move forward, even when things felt uncertain. Getting through fear and stress is hard. You have to hustle, and it’s not easy.

Owls have always felt like a guide in my life. I see them constantly, especially in moments when I’m questioning where I’m going. They help me with that fear. To me, they represent intuition, protection, and a connection to something beyond what we can always explain.

A lot of people don’t know this, but I’ve experienced a lot of loss in my life. Even at 38, I’ve lost all three of my best friends that I grew up with, along with others close to me. That kind of loss changes you. It makes you think deeply about connection, about time, and about what really matters.

Owl’s Eye was born out of that — a desire to create a space where people can come together, feel something real, and not feel alone. I also wanted it to be accessible, including through a weekly free craft night where anyone is welcome.

And it worked.

Owl’s Eye has grown into something beautiful. People come here to try something new, to connect, to create, and to be part of something.

But now, I’m facing something I can’t ignore anymore.

Owl’s Eye is currently located right by the bus stops on 4th and Sibley, and over the past two years, the environment around the shop has become increasingly unsafe. There has been consistent drug use and dealing directly outside the space. I’ve called the police more times than anyone should have to. I’ve tried to be patient and hopeful that things would improve, but nothing has meaningfully changed.

The same dealers use people who are struggling with addiction to hide what they are doing. I have seen so much that no one should have to see while trying to run a small business and community space. It’s hard to explain everything I’ve been through with this bus stop. I’ve even had to basically move upstairs at times just to feel safer.

Recently, I had enough and posted on social media because no one in government seemed to be listening to the downtown businesses. Everyone kept saying, “Just keep calling the police,” which is something I had stopped doing for my own safety because they knew it was me and my neighbor calling. They were still outside daily, harassing the storefront, and even coming in to try to intimidate me into staying quiet. I’ve had some very scary moments.

It got to the point where I stopped opening by myself, which is why my hours have sometimes been inconsistent.

After people encouraged me to start calling again this spring, I began reporting what was happening more regularly. Since then, the situation has escalated. While walking to the farmers market this week, individuals who are regularly on the corner recognized me and verbally harassed me, calling me names and accusing me of reporting them. Since involving authorities again, I’ve been dealing with ongoing harassment both outside my shop and on the street.

I live and work in the same space, and every day I walk from my apartment directly into the shop. I often open and close alone. My partner Josh supports me when he can, but he works full-time and can’t always be there. Honestly, when Josh and I left the place this morning and the same dealer was standing 10 feet away calling me names, I don’t want to know what would have happened if Josh hadn’t been there.

The reality is — I don’t feel safe in my own space anymore.

As much as I love this neighborhood and everything we’ve built here, I can’t continue to run a business, host events, and show up for this community while also feeling this level of fear. I’ve had to stop an art class, where people came to relax and create, to administer Narcan to someone overdosing at the bus stop. No one should have to carry that while trying to run a community art space.

My lease is up in June, and honestly, I had started thinking about giving it all up — not because of the business itself, but because of the location and the safety of the people coming in.

But then something else happened.

At one of our free craft nights, after the second shooting involving community members trying to protect our neighbors, we all said we had to do something. What started as a linocut stamp print turned into me and a few volunteers raising over $8,000 and printing what feels like thousands of shirts, where people could bring in their own clothes to print for a full donation.

Even while I’ve been doing special prints and fundraising for the community, I’ve still had people harassing the shop. It’s been incredibly difficult.

And in the middle of all of that, something really incredible came up.

I found an amazing space right by CHS Field, so I’ll still be in Lowertown, which means everything to me. This community is the reason Owl’s Eye exists, and I don’t want to leave it.

The difference is, this space is twice the price but about five times bigger than my current shop.

For the first time, I’d be able to build Owl’s Eye into what it was always meant to be — not just a small storefront, but a true creative collective, mirrored on the kind of community I experienced at CVA and Nerdery.

A space where we can finally have a coworking area for creatives, a full art studio and printmaking lab, a rotating artist gallery and local gift shop, bookable space for classes and events, private studio areas, and a program where I teach people how to build websites while helping local nonprofits.

This is the space I’ve been working toward my entire life. A space where people can feel safe, create freely, and be part of something real. I’ve been funding Owl’s Eye myself through my work as a UX/UI and website designer, building this space piece by piece through classes, events, and community support.

This would also be my first true commercial space — a space fully designed for the business, instead of the live/work setup I’ve been making work until now.

I am building out memberships, classes, rentals, and multiple revenue streams to make this sustainable long-term. But the biggest barrier right now is the upfront cost of making the move.

Your support will help cover the security deposit and first months of rent, moving and buildout costs, expanding the printmaking lab, setting up coworking and community spaces, and keeping classes and events accessible during the transition.

I’m also hosting live screenprinting fundraisers, offering memberships, and continuing to run classes, so there are many ways to support beyond donating. You can donate, share this campaign, come to an event, or become a member of Owl’s Eye.

Every bit helps. My social posts have been getting 8,000-10,000 views. I need help with the first months rent and deposit. So even 1 dollar is something!

Owl’s Eye has never just been a shop. It’s a place where people try something new, where artists connect, and where community shows up for each other.

I’ve spent my life learning how to build spaces like this.

This is everything I’ve worked toward.

I truly believe in what this space can become, and I know I can make it something really special.

I just need help getting there.

Thank you for being part of this and helping me take this next step.

Michelle

Owl’s Eye Art Collective