Lions of the Art Institute
Matted prints are a great option if you want to choose your own frame. They come in two sizes: 8x10" and 16x20". These are standard frame sizes. You may easily find these frames at any retail shop.
One thing you need to know about frames. Those cheap, thin frames with swivel locks and kickstands will not work. They are designed for simple photo prints or diplomas. The matted print will be too thick for these frames. Find a decent frame that is at least 1" deep.
I make every print myself in my studio. No photo lab. No outsourcing. Every print is handmade.
I print on metallic photo paper. It is the perfect paper for black-and-white architectural photography. It adds a distinctive pearlescent, three-dimensional sheen to the prints.
For mats, I use 4-ply Crescent Arctic White matboard. It is off-white, traditional, and restrained. Not bright white, which is too bright and overwhelms the image. This matboard is the archival standard for conservation framing.
I mount prints on 3/16" Bainbridge foamcore. It is acid-free, clay-coated, rigid, and lightweight. It is ideal for archival print mounting.
The print is permanently sealed between the mat and the mounting board. It is intentional. A hinge mount leaves the print too loose. Also, it causes the print to bulge in the middle. A sealed mount keeps the print flat and tight. If you need a hinge mount or a matboard backing instead of foamcore, let me know.
Every print is signed and numbered (limited edition) on the mat in pencil. On the back, you will find a Certificate of Authenticity with all the details about the print and my contact information.
The actual photo print size for an 8x10” matted print is 6x6” with a 1” mat border, and for a 16x20” print, it is 12x12” with a 2” mat border. Since the photo prints are square and the matted prints are rectangular, the bottom mat border for 8x10” prints is 2” and for 16x20” prints it is 6”.
A framed print is a finished artwork. It is not just the image, it is a physical object that looks intentional, lasts decades, and feels complete.
The frame color, finish, and moulding profile. Print mounting, matting, and glazing. These are all deliberate decisions that elevate the image to the level of an artwork, which you can hold in your hands, put on the wall, and live with every day.
I am a professional framer, and I enjoy making frames for my prints. I put a lot of thought into what frame to use for my prints. And how to mat, glaze, and mount them. And after decades of frame-making, I acquired the skills to make my prints perfect, exactly the way I want them. I am proud of what I do.
I make every print myself in my studio. No photo lab. No outsourcing. Every print is personally crafted by me.
I start with printing the image on one of my large-format printers. I use glossy metallic photo paper almost exclusively. It is the perfect paper for black-and-white architectural photography. It adds a distinctive pearlescent, three-dimensional sheen to the print. In a bright spotlight, it looks like a hologram.
For glazing, I seal the print with archival 5-mil PET film, featuring a unique, high-gloss “mirror-like” finish. There is only one manufacturer of this glazing, the price has doubled in recent years, and it is issued in small batches that sell out instantly. But the result is worth the trouble. It gives the print that elusive look of a silver gelatin print from a traditional darkroom, which was treated with a vintage photo heat glossier.
I have been a photographer all my life, and I still have my traditional darkroom. I can produce small silver gelatin prints, but large 44x44” prints are obviously out of reach with this old technology. I am happy that I can replicate that look and feel for the prints on any scale with the new technology I developed.
But this is my choice. If you prefer to use museum anti-reflective glass sheets, please let me know. I can do that, but the print prices may double (since glass is expensive), and delivery will be limited to Chicagoland only (because it is glass and it breaks in shipping).
I permanently mount my prints to white aluminum Dibond sheets using archival pressure-sensitive high-tack acrylic adhesive. It is not a simple process. I use a heavy 750-pound, 60” wide large-format laminator to complete this task. And it is the most dangerous and nerve-racking stage in the whole printmaking process. A tiny misalignment or a speck of debris on the surface can ruin the almost-finished print.
Finally, the print is ready for framing. Frame-making is where a woodworker meets an artist. It is a totally different set of skills, materials, instruments, and studio space.
Over the years, I developed relationships with several suppliers, and I get my frame moulding delivered by truck in large, long boxes. I believe my studio stocks more frame moulding than your average frame shop down the street.
I cut the moulding at 45 degrees using my mitre saw mounted on a custom 10-foot-long, heavy-duty feed bench I built long ago. I then join the cut sticks with a pneumatic v-nailer to make a square frame. Now the finishing touches: I sand and paint the frame corners to make them even and smooth.
Now it is time to put the print and the frame together. I secure the print inside the frame with flexible points and install the hanging wire (or D-rings for the large prints). I sign the print, attach the Certificate of Authenticity, and the print is ready.
Now, let’s talk about the frames I use for my prints. In my opinion, black-and-white photography does not require elaborate framing. A simple but sophisticated matte black frame is all that is needed. It is like the famous Audrey Hepburn’s "little black dress" designed by Hubert de Givenchy for the movie “Breakfast at Tiffany's”. It became iconic and has been described as "perhaps the most famous little black dress of all time." Accordingly, a “little black frame” is all that is needed for my prints.
For 16x16” prints, I use a simple 3/4” matte black frame, but it is 1 1/8” tall, which adds a touch of sophistication. It looks proportional to the relatively small size of the 16x16” print.
For 24x24” and 32x32” prints, I use the same style but a different profile frame. It is a wider 1 1/4" frame, which works for larger print sizes. And it is not as tall, only 7/8", which keeps the prints more grounded on the wall and less overpowering.
For large 44x44” prints, the frame design requires a totally different approach. Compared to smaller prints, the large print is a statement, it is a centerpiece of the room. It is a celebration, and the "little black dress" concept doesn’t work here. It needs a bit of exuberance. At the same time, it has to be constrained and confident. Like a Rolls-Royce brand identity.
To meet this challenge, I came up with a design of two different frames stacked together to form a unified frame for large prints.
The main frame is one of the most expensive frames I used, a custom frame made in Italy. It is 2” tall and 2” wide. It is a block, but it has a bevel on the inside. The beauty is in color, or to be precise, in color gradation. It is dark charcoal on the outer sides, which gradually transforms into a patina of silver leaf on the inner bevel through dark copper leaf on the front side. The beauty is that the gradation is not even, it looks painted by hand. It looks authentic, rustic, and antique.
The secondary frame is 1 1/8" wide, and it has a similar rustic, scratched, antique look, but it is pewter, which is almost the same color tonality as a photographic print it frames. It is more restrained than the primary frame and works well as a separator. Also, it has this chiseled, rough edge, another detail that adds authenticity to the whole frame.
I owe you a clarification about print sizes. The framed print sizes listed on my website (16x16”, 24x24”, 32x32”, and 44x44”) refer to the sizes of prints mounted on the board before framing. But with the frame included, the outside dimensions will be obviously larger. Also, because of the white space (1” or 2”) around the image to separate it from the frame, the actual print size is smaller. Here is the table with all dimensions:
| Framed Print | Outside Dimensions | White Space | Actual Print |
| 16x16” | 17x17” | 2" | 12x12" |
| 24x24” | 26x26" | 2" | 20x20" |
| 32x32" | 34x34" | 2" | 28x28" |
| 44x44" | 50x50" | 1" | 42x42" |
And here is the sample picture to explain the dimensions table:
These are the standard frame options I offer on my website. If you need a custom frame or print sizes, please reach out to me, and I would be happy to help.
A photo print is an option if you want to frame it yourself or have a frame shop you know and trust that will frame it for you.
A photo print is just a loose print that I will send to you in a shipping tube.
I make prints myself in my studio. I use glossy metallic photo paper almost exclusively. It is the perfect paper for black-and-white architectural photography. It adds a distinctive pearlescent, three-dimensional sheen to the print.
The prints are part of a limited edition. They are signed and numbered just below the print. The Certificate of Authenticity is enclosed with the print.
I offer on my website three different sizes for photo prints: 24x24”, 32x32”, and 44x44”. If you need a custom size print, please let me know.
Split print is a great option if you want to go big, really big, up to 10 feet or maybe even bigger. It is a great option for office lobbies and for any place with large, tall walls.
There is a little “behind-the-scenes” story about split prints. I used to offer 60x60” on my website, but it was a mixed bag. First of all, that was the maximum print size I could make because all the materials (backing board, glass, etc.) do not come in sizes bigger than 60x60”. That was the ceiling I could not break. Second, the shipping of these prints was a nightmare. They are big and had to be shipped freight in a crate (not cheap), and every second print I shipped came back damaged, with big holes poked by careless forklift drivers at the sorting facilities.
There had to be a solution to these problems. And I found it in split prints.
Split print is a square print divided into nine (3 by 3) or more smaller squares. 60x60” print becomes a set of nine 20x20” prints, and 120x120” print is a set of nine 40x40” prints. No frame is required for this print presentation, as these are acrylic prints.
Acrylic print is a print on metallic photo paper face-mounted on a 1/4” thick sheet of acrylic (with polished edges) and sandwiched for strength with a sheet of aluminum Dibond. It is a modern, contemporary way to present a photographic print.
Because these are relatively small prints, compared to the final result, they can be shipped on a palette, which eliminates the shipping damage I had before. Plus, they are not heavy, and one person can easily put them on a wall using cleat hangers.
The best practice is to leave about a 1/4" or 1/2" gap between the acrylic print tiles. Since the edges of the acrylic prints are polished and the acrylic is quite thick at 1/4", it creates an interesting optical effect like looking through water.
If you are in the Chicagoland area, I will get you in touch with an installation guy I trust and have used for years, and he will help you install the split print in your home or office.
Each fine art print is produced specifically for you.
From the moment your order is confirmed, your print enters a deliberate production process: printing, inspection, drying, mounting, framing, final quality control, and secure packaging for shipping. Nothing is rushed. Every step is completed in-house to ensure consistency, precision, and permanence.
For matted prints and 16x16” framed prints, the production takes 1-2 days. For large framed prints, it takes 3-4 days.
If you are in the Chicagoland area, the shipping takes only one day. Large prints, I will deliver personally. I will contact you to schedule a delivery date and time that is convenient for you.
If you are outside of Chicago, the shipping takes 2-3 days, standard UPS Ground transit time. Large prints will be shipped in a crate built out of lumber and plywood. To open it, you might need a screwdriver, there will be many screws to remove.
You will receive an email with shipping tracking information once your order is ready for shipping.
Because most of the work is handmade in the studio, minor variations are part of the object's character. The result is not a mass-produced item, but a permanent piece crafted with attention.
Split prints are the only option I outsource to the photo lab. But I guarantee the quality of the prints because they are made under my supervision. Delivery time for split prints is about two weeks, but it can vary depending on the scope of the project.
If you have a specific deadline, please contact me before placing your order, and I will do my best to accommodate your timeline without compromising quality.
Each work is produced to order and crafted individually in my studio. Because of this, my payment and refund policies reflect the seriousness and permanence of the object.
Payments
Full payment is required at the time of purchase to secure your edition and initiate production.
I accept major credit cards and other secure payment methods at checkout. Production begins once payment is received.
There is an option at the checkout for “Payment in Person”. Please use it if you want to reserve your print but need to customize it and are unsure of the exact price. I will email you the invoice, which you can safely pay on my website later.
Refunds and Returns
All prints are made to order. As such, sales are considered final.
I do not offer refunds for change of mind, incorrect size selection, or personal preference. I encourage collectors to review dimensions, framing options, and placement carefully before purchasing.
If your work arrives damaged in transit, please contact me within 48 hours of delivery with photographs of the packaging and the piece. I will repair or replace the work as appropriate.
In the rare event of a production defect, I will make it right.
Cancellations
Orders may be cancelled within 24 hours of purchase, provided production has not yet begun. After production starts, cancellations are not possible.
I stand behind the quality, craftsmanship, and permanence of every piece. If you have questions before purchasing, I am always available to assist.
ADDRESS: 111 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago, IL
SCULPTOR: Edward Kemeys
YEAR BUILT: 1894
You walk past them every day. You might have stood between them for a picture. You have seen them wearing Christmas wreaths, Cubs jerseys, or surgical masks during a pandemic. You think you know them.
You don't.
They have been standing there since 1894. Two bronze lions on Michigan Avenue, flanking the grand staircase of the Art Institute of Chicago. For over 130 years, they have watched everything: the construction of a skyline, the fury of blizzards, the smoke of protests, the eruption of championship celebrations. They watched the city burn its way through the 20th century and rebuild. They watched it do it again.
And still they stand. Unimpressed.
This is what bronze does. It outlasts everything you think is permanent.
Most people who sculpt lions have never seen one outside a cage.
Edward Kemeys was different. Born in 1843, trained by nobody, self-taught in the way that matters most: by going where the thing actually lives. He spent years in the American West. He lived among the Crow people. He befriended trappers. He watched animals move in their native ground, not behind iron bars. And when a specimen died, he dissected it. He mapped the musculature the way a surgeon maps a body, not because he was morbid, but because he understood something most artists refuse to accept: you cannot make something real until you know what it is made of.
His lions are not decorative. They are anatomical. Every tendon is correct. Every posture is observed. He signed each pedestal with a wolf-head totem, his personal mark, the symbol of the animal that first revealed his calling to him in Central Park when he was still a young man working for the engineering corps.
Kemeys gave them no names. He gave them personalities.
The south lion is "in an attitude of defiance." Head raised to full height. Mouth closed. Front legs even. Watching something in the distance that has earned its full attention. Kemeys said this was the hardest pose he ever attempted. In captivity, lions almost never raise their heads above their bodies. It is a posture of the wild, reserved for the moment of real alertness, when something far away demands to be taken seriously.
The north lion is "on the prowl." Head up and turning. Mouth open. Weight shifting forward. Kemeys described him as having "his back up," ready to roar and spring.
One lion confronts the world. The other calculates it.
This is not a coincidence. This is Chicago.
A persistent story says these lions are bronze recasts of the plaster statues from the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition. It is a satisfying story. It connects the lions to the greatest moment in Chicago's civic mythology, to the White City, to the Fair that remade the American imagination.
It is also false.
The 1893 exposition lions were made of staff, a mixture of plaster and hemp fiber designed to last six months. They were the work of sculptors A. Phimister Proctor and Theodore Baur, not Kemeys. Their tails pointed straight back and down. Look at the south lion on Michigan Avenue. His tail sweeps in a different arc entirely. The anatomical difference is not subtle. It is a sculptor's signature, written in bronze.
The Art Institute lions were a specific commission, a gift from Florence Lathrop Field in memory of her husband Henry, cast in what the records called "everlasting bronze" by the American Bronze Founding Company, placed on Michigan Avenue on May 10, 1894. They were never temporary. They were never repurposed. They were made for exactly where they stand.
The myth persists because people want a story that ties beautiful things together. But the truth is more interesting than the myth. Kemeys made something original. Something that belongs to no other moment but this one.
In 2022, conservators lifted the south lion from its pedestal. Under the plinth, workers found two Indian Head cents, placed there by someone whose name is lost to history, a small deliberate act of devotion from over a century ago.
Inside the bronze shells of both lions, there are two time capsules. One from the museum's early years. One was placed during the 2001 restoration. Both are still sealed.
Nobody knows what is in them.
This is what the lions are, beyond sculpture and symbol. They are vaults. They hold Chicago's secrets in their hollow bodies, standing on Michigan Avenue as the city rushes past, carrying something no one has seen since it was placed there.
The conservation work also revealed something else: every few decades, the bronze must be steam-cleaned, the oxidation managed, and a protective wax applied to protect it against Chicago's winters. The patina you see, that deep green that contrasts so perfectly against the limestone, is not neglect. It is 130 years of weather, held in place and maintained by people who understand that some things are worth protecting.
In 1985, for the first time, someone put oversized helmets on the lions for the Chicago Bears' Super Bowl run. The city loved it.
Since then, they have worn the red of the Bulls, the feathers of the Blackhawks, the blue of the Cubs. In December, they wear six-foot evergreen wreaths that take a crew, a bucket lift, and a 5:30 am start on the Friday after Thanksgiving to install. Each wreath weighs 250 pounds, wired to an iron frame, sprayed with antidesiccant, and cured under tarps for days before it goes up. The bows are sourced from a car dealership because nothing else is large enough.
This tradition confounds people who care about the dignity of art. It should not.
A 10,000-pound bronze lion wearing a Chicago Cubs jersey is not a desecration. It is a declaration. It says: this belongs to us. Not to the institution, not to history, not to a catalog entry. To the city. To everyone who climbs those steps and everyone who doesn't. The Art Institute is not a palace. It is a museum, open to the public, built by immigrants, laborers, architects, and artists who believed that a city could be something more than commerce.
The costumes are Chicagoans talking back to the monument. The monument, as always, remains unmoved. But it wears the jersey.
When the Chicago Cubs won the World Series in 2016, after 108 years without a championship, people did not go to Grant Park first. They went to the lions.
Think about what that means.
In the moment of the city's most profound collective release, people walked to two bronze animals made by a self-taught sculptor in 1894 and stood with them. Not because they had to. Because it felt right. Because the lions are part of the emotional geography of Chicago in the same way the lake is, the same way the elevated tracks are. They mark something. They are where you go when something real has happened, and you need to be somewhere that has been standing long enough to hold it.
Meet me at the lions. No further explanation needed.
Defiance and Prowl. Kemeys' words were more prophetic than he knew.
Chicago is a city built on defiance. It was built on swampy ground that engineers said could not support a city. It burned to the ground in 1871 and was rebuilt in twenty years into the most architecturally innovative skyline on earth. It was crushed by economic collapses and came back. It endures winters that are not metaphorical.
And it prowls. It has always prowled. Restless, calculating, moving forward with the particular ambition of a city that knows it has something to prove.
The lions do not guard a palace. They guard an idea: that a city of big shoulders deserves a temple of culture, and that the temple belongs to everyone who climbs the stairs.
They face outward, not inward. They are not looking at the art behind them. They are looking at you.
Next time you walk past them, look at the south lion's head, raised to a height lions only reach in the wild. Look at the north lion's weight shifting forward. Look at the wolf-head totem Kemeys pressed into the base, his signature, the mark of a man who learned his craft from the animal itself.
These are not decorations.
They are 130 years of bronze patience, standing in defiance, perpetually on the prowl, holding the city's secrets in their hollow bodies, wearing its jerseys, bearing its weather.
They are as much Chicago as steel and stone and sky.
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