Crowdsourcing

Today is the day every creative hopes to never face, like every other person in the world, I am passionate about what I do for a living! Yeah 'kay, but when I DO get excited about a project it is easy to spend every minute of my day nurturing it, putting all other deadlines on the back burner and going too far down that rabbit-hole of possibilities. There aren’t too many professions where you get to make things that you really love, and I am particularly fond of branding. As a creative, I always hope for enthusiastic reactions from my clients, which can leave some room for disappointment. But, hearing that my client has turned to crowdsourcing is an entirely different level of dissatisfaction that I am hoping to cope with.

Months ago, my agency presented 12 initial logo sketches to three decision makers - I led the creative presentations, always justifying my positioning and taking note of client feedback along the way. Collectively, we quickly narrowed to three options, and eventually the winner became obvious. Too good to be true, they decided upon my favorite logo option without any Frankenstein requests?

One thing that I've learned since undergrad, is that the word final is up for interpretation when clients are referencing design. 

In so many words, defined by my client. (2015)

In this case, my clients decided to show the rest of their company their final logo. Our agency never got an opportunity to show our initial sketches, and the reviewing board members refused to hear positioning statements. The result was that the board members "didn't understand it". Without any warning, the client posted the logo on 99designs for crowdsourcing. 

I truly hoped that upon seeing the purchased logo, I would feel okay with it. Out of 100 logos, it seemed that there could be a respectable option! Disappointment has set in, and the hilarity of the situation is that now I have been tasked with "cleaning-up" the logo that they purchased. They think it's too sharp, it's not quite symmetrical and the color just isn't right. I also get to extend their branding on all of their print collateral and redesign their website. The client was so excited about their new purchase that they even had temporary tatoos printed (before my clean-up), and were delighted to share their photo album with me after celebrating their brand launch! I am going to chalk this up to a big fat win, because: yoga.

Another wedding

My sister Melissa was married on Sat and I just don't know that the Kings are cut out for weddings! The wedding was beautiful, but for our group—it's inevitable that the day after is the pits. 

The celebration was held in Carbondale IL, and on Sunday morning I am riding back up north with my brother Alex. We both had a lot of fun the night before and I found myself wondering if I could survive the 5-hour road trip. We need gas before we get on the highway, Note: my last blog post is when the Kings began trend-setting gas station stories!! I had the passenger seat reclined back and had my eyes closed while Alex fueled up. When my brother stepped back into the car and announced "Oh sh*t". I open one eye and say, "Don't even tell me you lost the keys!" He laughs and sticks the key into the ignition and says, "No, Meg...but I wonder what would happen if I filled up my gas tank with Diesel fuel". "Hmmmm, it's probably not great, but...we better call Dad to be sure."  "You gotta be $%#**ing kidding me, he screams into the phone. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU KIDS!!??!!" Then Dad asks if we've turned the ignition on...which we hadn't, and I feel very triumphant relaying that information! He's with my mom at the reception site picking up tablecloths. He says that my Uncle Jeff (a different Uncle Jeff from the previous wedding blog) is probably not too far behind us and to call him until he can meet us.

Uncle Jeff just laughs when we tell him that we filled up the gas tank with diesel fuel, "I'm surprised the Diesel nozzle would even FIT into Alex's tank". Which, Alex admitted in a defeated yet sarcastic tone, "It was difficult, but I guess I'm NOT a quitter!" Uncle Jeff, only a few miles behind us, assures us that he's pulling over but has no idea who we can find to drop the gas tank. I call my sister Meredith next. I am not sure why I am even laughing as Mere and her boyfriend pulled into the gas station. Perhaps it's the fierce hangover kicking in, or the nerves of my uneasy stomach, but I really can't believe we are stranded at another gas station! I speak to the attendant and she tells us "$h*t happens, good luck git-ina mechanic on-er Sunday!" We know we need the gas out of the tank, so I suggest siphoning it out with a long plastic tube and a bucket! I saw Dad empty our large fish tank this way when I was a kid! Meredith's boyfriend says he will drive Mere's car to Walmart if Alex wants to pick up the stuff.

Mere and I wait for Uncle Jeff while the boys take off, and when he arrives he is with my Aunt Linnie and cousin Danielle. This is beginning to look like a circus and we are managing to attract attention! People want to help us, but the only dude who sticks around keeps mumbling something about free gas. He is circling the car (I wish I had saved the snap chats I kept taking of him). Uncle Jeff thinks that siphoning could work!! He doesn't have any other ideas, as businesses are not open on Sunday. My cell rings...and it’s Alex. They got a hose and a bucket...but Meredith's car won't start now and he assumes the ignition key is still in Meredith's purse! Gah, so Uncle Jeff is on his way to Walmart to bring them the car keys when Mom and Dad pull into the gas station. We crack the window to hear Dad talking to the creepy mumbling guy, and both parents are delighted to find that Uncle Jeff is now rescuing Alex from Walmart.

The mood peaked when we stuck the hose into the gas tank and realized that a 2015 car had a filter over the tank to prevent people from SYPHONING GAS! This is when I opened a beer, my aunt promptly handed me one of Melissa's wedding koozies.

So, Uncle Jeff and Dad push the car off the cement so the car is leaning to one side, and they spread out one of Melissa's wedding tablecloths to lay on. Uncle Jeff is the keeper of all the tools and fortunately, he could get under the car to eventually un-attach the tank. Now we can bypass the filter and get the hose into the tank to siphon. It takes for-flipping-ever to get 10 gallons of gas through a tube the width of my finger!

6 hours later, the mumbling guy was still circling—but that turned out to be great because how else do you dispose of 10 gallons of diesel fuel that has been mixed with regular? The sun was setting as we finally arrived home, but we were looking forward to spending a week together in Mexico for the after-party!

Traveling with the King's

My cousin, Patrick got married in Pittsburgh on Saturday but it was just one of those weekends that started on the wrong foot. Some clown set the air traffic control tower on fire Thursday to avoid his job relocation from the Chicago Suburbs to Hawaii. All flights from Midway, O’Hare, and Rockford were canceled for the entire weekend, so our only option was to drive. All the rental cars in Chicago had been booked due to the closed airports so we picked up one of the stranded bridesmaids and our car was very packed! Traffic is bumper to bumper on I80E so it takes us 13 hours to get there. Fortunately, my parents were already planning to fly to Myrtle Beach with their friends on Sunday so my sister, brother, and I could drive their car back to Illinois at our leisure. 

My favorite memories are made with my three siblings and we were especially excited because we don't see this side of the family often. The wedding was pretty, and as we boarded the shuttle to the reception site my brother handed out beer! 

Well I'm sure that's not what #karapatrick2014 intended the gift bag to be used for ! #smuggling #beer #schoolbus #receptiontime !!!

"Well I'm sure that's not what #karapatrick2014 intended the gift bag to be used for ! #smuggling #beer #schoolbus #receptiontime !!!"

As soon as we enter the reception, my sister Meredith orders the four of us shots of vodka. She explains that there aren’t options, vodka is what they are using in their signature cocktail and it's room temperature because they aren't supposed to be serving shots. I rolled my eyes because Meredith could charm the devil himself. We choke the vodka back, dance, drink more, rinse, and repeat. Getting up on Sunday was not fun and the 9-hour drive home taunted us! My sister Melissa left at 7 am to catch her flight home to Jacksonville, and my parents went with her to catch their flight to Myrtle Beach.

Finding your way through Pittsburgh with a hangover is the definition of hell. The one-way roads are windy and the hills cause the GPS to cut in and out. The Steelers traffic isn't helping and the GPS is on a continuous reroute "Make a U-turn, take the next right—make a U-turn—left on Pen—re-routing". Meredith insisted that I change her British accent immediately!

We finally make it into Ohio and decide to stop to fuel up at the cleaner-than-Indiana’s rest stop. Alex and I sit down with our Panera pagers while Meredith goes to the restroom. It is when I set our food on the table that I see her running across the reststop towards us. I assume she got sick from all of the vodka shots and began giggling. Her face is flushed and she announces that we have a huge problem. “I hadn’t realized my shirt was inside out when I got dressed in the dark, and I was holding the car key in this hand—but when I took my shirt off it flew into the toilet. There was a motion sensor, so it automatically flushed."

I'll leave out the 30 minutes of panic and skip to our research. We asked security to snake the toilet—no keys, but they did assure us that this happens all the time...?! The Acura dealership is closed on Sundays and with the VIN they can't get a new key made until Wednesday. The locksmith can’t unlock our 2015 vehicle because...something about a transporter and the ignition shutting down to protect it from auto theft.

We all had to work the following day and we were 8 hours from home. A rental car wasn't an option because our IDs were in the locked Acura. Between the three of us, we have twenty-some dollars in cash and three nearly-dead cell phones. My brother says, "If anyone can figure this all out it’s Dad", but Dad hangs up on us. After the horrible drive out to Pittsburgh on Friday, he thinks we are joking! 

We eventually get Dad on the phone while he is laid over in North Carolina. Maybe Uncle Craig can go to my parent's house, get the spare key, and drive 8 hours to Ohio? After some arguing, we learn that my Mom has the spare key in her purse. Mom gets on her flight and Dad plans to FedEx the key to a nearby hotel. However, the North Carolina airport does not have a FedEx drop box. 

It is too late in the day to send a same-day delivery. My dad is furious that he is now required to purchase a $900 seat on the next flight to Pittsburgh just to bring us a key! It leaves in two hours... and he wonders why he has to be ON the flight. Now he starts walking down the security line asking "Anybody going to Pittsburgh, anyone to Pittsburgh?" nobody...for an hour. Just as the rage begins to overwhelm him, a little woman says "Yes, I am going to Pittsburgh". 

The woman's name is Jean, and Dad explains that he needs her to meet my Aunt Pat at the Pittsburgh Airport when she arrives. As he hands his only remaining car key to her, he has to talk himself out of an arrest. The security guard insists that he cannot hand anything off to a passenger that he does not know. Dad argued that if their scanner works properly, they will be able to tell if the key is hazardous. He insists that they can arrest him if she does not pass security. Upon getting through the security gates, Dad asked Jean for her cell number. Jean flipped open her phone and decided that she didn't know her number, so he settled with: "Look for a sign that reads: Alex King" 

My Aunt Pat was at the reception site cleaning up her son's wedding when my Dad called to tell her of his game plan. He asks her to drive an hour north to the Pittsburgh airport to meet Jean with the key, and then drive two hours west to meet us in Ohio. After a mere 8 hours of laying in the grass at Ohio Rest-opia, my Aunt Pat and Uncle Jeff arrive. They even packed a care package of sandwiches, water, and cookies. 18 hours after our hotel departure we arrived at my parent's house, 2 additional hours back to Chicago—but we all made it back to work on Monday morning! Team Dad! 

Horsing Around for a Good Cause

If you know me, you know I love striking up conversations with strangers—it’s a sport, really. And every so often, these chats lead to something truly unexpected. About a year ago, I met a guy who also worked in advertising. His agency was collaborating with the Chicago Police Memorial Foundation to raise funds for the families of fallen officers. They were looking for Chicago artists to paint horses that would be sponsored by local organizations, then displayed along Michigan Avenue in a public art show through November.

I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in years, but the chance to contribute to such a meaningful cause instantly resonated with me. Little did I know, I would soon be sponsored by the Chicago Cubs to create a tribute for Chicago’s first fallen officer, Constable Quinn. As I dug into his story, I discovered a fascinating connection—his son had played for the Chicago White Stockings in 1903, the team that would later become the Cubs. Had I known from the start that I’d be painting for such a high-profile organization, I might have questioned my abilities. But by the time I learned, the artists had already been paired with their horses, and there was no turning back.

That following Friday, a flatbed trailer rolled up to my apartment and these beauties were about 7 feet tall and 8 feet long. I naively thought one might fit in my elevator. Spoiler: it didn’t. Plan B? My building’s dimly lit garage. :(

The next weekend, my mom came up to the city to help get me started. We ordered Chinese takeout and camped out on the cement floor, painting and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Every time someone from the neighboring restaurant turned the corner and spotted a giant horse where my car was normally parked, the double takes were priceless. Throughout the following weeks, I painted after work, and the garage became an unexpected hub of encouragement. Neighbors stopped by to chat about the Cubs (this was the year they were chasing the World Series), and one neighbor even brought me a beer and hung out awhile.

The Constable Quinn Horse sculpture was commissioned by the Chicago Cubs for The Chicago Police Memorial Foundation. Artist Megan King

For Constable Quinn, I painted his body in Cubs blue with white baseball stockings and added the Cubs logo on his left side. His mane turned into angelic feathers, intertwined with snippets of his story: the first officer to fall, a member of the 9th ward, and a shamrock for his Irish heritage. I learned Quinn was fatally beaten during an arrest in 1853 and passed away from his injuries the next morning. His killer? Sentenced to only five years for manslaughter.

The purpose of this painting was always for it to go to auction, but I was surprised by how bittersweet it felt to say goodbye. After pouring so much heart into the project, I realized I had formed a genuine connection with Quinn and his story. In need of a pick-me-up, I stopped by Starbucks on the way to work. And wouldn’t you know it? As I walked out with my coffee, there was Constable Quinn, being unloaded from a truck right across the street from my office at the Intercontinental Hotel!

From my 16th-floor office window, I had the perfect view of Quinn and the other beautiful horse sculptures lined up along Michigan Avenue. Thousands of people stopped to admire him and read his story while I watched from my desk above. It was surreal.

Since the heartbreaking loss of Constable Quinn, Chicago has mourned the sacrifice of over 600 police officers who gave their lives in the line of duty to protect our city. Their families are left to navigate an overwhelming void—grappling with emotional devastation while facing significant financial and psychological challenges. While the Department and other organizations provide support, the need is vast and ongoing. Working with the Chicago Police Memorial Foundation has been profoundly meaningful to me. Last I heard, Quinn’s sculpture found a new home in Arizona after being auctioned off to benefit the foundation. He will always be my connection to an unforgettable piece of Chicago history and a cause that remains close to my heart.

Thank you to Rick Barrett for all your incredible research and support throughout this project. I couldn’t have done it without you, and I’m grateful for the friendship we’ve built along the way.

Love the Work. Work to Love.

I've realized that my career is a constantly shifting target, and perhaps that's just the nature of being a creative. There's always this underlying drive to strive for better, to push boundaries, and to seek out work that truly resonates with our souls. I once heard someone say, "Your days are your life," and it struck a chord with me. Today, for the first time in almost two years, I have the luxury of working from home. Instead of braving an icy bicycle ride into the office, I found myself lingering in bed until 8:00 am, reflecting on the very reasons I chose the path of a designer.

Lately, when I think about work, it's become a laundry list of tasks to complete rather than a source of inspiration and fulfillment. I yearn for the kind of work that used to ignite my passion and energize me every morning. So, I've realized that it's time for a change. Every journey begins with a single step, and I've already taken that step in the right direction—now it's time to pick up the pace and charge forward!

It's time to envision the kind of world I want to inhabit and the work that truly excites me. I know it looks vastly different from what has been consuming my life in recent months. I was recently inspired by a talk by Tiffany Pratt, where she posed the question to her audience: "What are you synonymous with? What is authentic to you?" It got me thinking—what content would friends forward to me on Instagram? What would they think of when something reminded them of me?

Pratt's words reminded me that I need to bring spontaneity back into my life—to create the right environment for new opportunities to flourish. I want to collaborate with people who are just as excited to work with me as I am with them. Those people are out there, and it's time I stopped turning them away because of my overloaded schedule. "Find your tribe and love them hard”. As cheesy as this meme has become, I'm determined to live by those words.

It's time for a revolution—a revolution of passion, purpose, and authenticity.