November 24, 2025

If the last post was me tapping out and whispering “I’m here” to Tacoma, this one is me standing at the edge, wings strapped tight, heart hammering, and finally stepping off the cliff on purpose.

The Gallery Door Closes Tuesday

Today and tomorrow are my last two shifts at Khan Gallery. I’m walking out with gratitude instead of resentment. The space is going to be incredible one day; I just wasn’t the right body for that seat. Holding a place that isn’t yours is rude to everyone, especially yourself. So I’m sliding out of the chair with a quiet thank-you and making room for the person who’s going to light that role on fire and love every second of it.

I Built the Wings This Time

For years my pattern was: feel the urge, run to the edge, leap, then frantically try to assemble the hang-glider on the way down. Spoiler: that doesn’t work.

This time is different. I did the terrifying prep work first.

I journaled until my hand cramped. I talked to mentors who actually know what a profitable design career looks like. I stared at the numbers until they stopped scaring me and started making sense. I borrowed money (yes, that still feels like swallowing glass), but I borrowed it with a plan that has actual levers and dials I know how to pull from day one.

The wings are built. They might tear. They might soar. But they exist before I left the ground.

Urban Muse & Sultry Hues 2.0

I’m folding professional graphic design into the same studio that’s been my sanctuary. Same name, same corner at Sanford and Son Antiques, brand-new tool in my toolbox.

Adobe Creative Cloud is installed and waiting. I’m going deep—no half-measures, no “good enough for an artist.” I want to be the designer clients fight over because the work is undeniably sharp.

Primary runway for income: online contest platforms (99designs is the first launchpad) plus direct client work I’ll hunt myself. All of it remote, all of it on my schedule. If I can make that side take off, I’ll never again have to trade afternoons of paint under my nails for a paycheck that suffocates the muse.

I’m still keeping mornings open for the right part-time gig—something easy, local, cash-flow-positive—so bills stay paid while the design muscle grows. When that gig shows up, I’ll know it. Until then, noon to 5 PM every weekday belongs to the studio: watercolor buildings one hour, vector icons the next. The duality feels sexy as hell.

Tacoma Still Holds Me Like Home

Every sunrise over Commencement Bay reminds me I’m in the right city this time. Sheridan, Wyoming was beautiful, but it never fit my bones. Tacoma does. The container ships sliding past my window, the gulls, the salt air, the way the light hits Dome District brick at 4 p.m.—it all feels like the backdrop I was supposed to grow into.

I’m anxious (of course I am). Money’s going to be tight for a while. Some weeks will taste like instant noodles and stubborn hope. But the anxiety feels different now—it’s the kind that comes with altitude, not the kind that comes with freefall.

Come Find Me

Starting Wednesday, you’ll find me at Urban Muse & Sultry Hues (Sanford and Son Antiques) noon to 5, Wednesday through Sunday. Sometimes I’ll be splashing watercolor cities that look back at you with bedroom eyes. Sometimes I’ll be hunched over a glowing screen turning someone’s brand into something that makes people feel things.

Either way, the door’s open. Come watch the flight in real time.

Wings on. Cliff gone. Sky wide open.

Let’s see if these babies actually fly.

Love from the edge,
—Dan The Man