Marina City Parking Garage
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: 300 North State Street, Chicago, IL
ARCHITECT: Bertrand Goldberg
YEARS BUILT: 1964–1968
"Oh, that parking garage in Chicago! Steve McQueen! What was that movie? He drove all around and then jumped in his car into the river!"
I have been showing my print of Marina City at art festivals for many years now. And these are the words that most people utter when they see this image. Every single time. The same words. The same excitement. The same confident misremembering.
I used to be surprised. I am not anymore.
Here is the truth: most people have never actually seen the movie “The Hunter.” They have a memory of a feeling. They remember the thrill of a car chase up a spiral ramp. They remember flight, and speed, and the green water of the Chicago River rushing up from nineteen floors below. What they do not remember is who was in the car.
It was not Steve McQueen.
This is how legends are made. Not from facts. From feelings that needed somewhere to live.
Stand on the State Street bridge, and you’ll find the twin towers of Marina City rising from the north bank of the Chicago River like two concrete corn cobs. Sixty-five stories each. Curved balconies stacked one on top of another, flaring outward in rhythmic semicircles. Above the river, above the traffic, above the noise of the Loop, they look like something from another century's dream of the future.
Now look at the base. The bottom nineteen floors of each tower are completely open to the air. No walls. No glass. Just raw concrete rings, one stacked on another, each carrying a row of cars parked over the edge like metal teeth. Between the cars and the Chicago River: nothing. A few inches of concrete curb, and then open air, and then the water sixty feet below.
This is the parking garage. This is what people remember.
Architect Bertrand Goldberg completed Marina City in 1968. He was not building a garage. He was building an argument. The argument was this: Chicago was dying at its center. Middle-class residents were leaving for the suburbs. Downtown was emptying. The car had won. Goldberg's answer was to build a city within a city, a place where you could live, work, eat, drink, go to the theater, park your car, and dock your boat, all without ever crossing the river. Housing, offices, restaurants, a marina, all bundled into two towers on a single city block. He called it a solution to urban decay.
The parking garage was not an afterthought. It was the foundation, literally. The circular concrete core of each tower rises from bedrock, and the first nineteen floors wrap around it in a continuous spiral ramp. Cars drive up in an unbroken helix, like water climbing a corkscrew. 896 parking spaces per tower. The open-air design eliminated the need for mechanical ventilation. The circular structure distributes weight evenly through the reinforced concrete. Engineering and aesthetics were the same thing.
Most architects hide their parking. Goldberg put his on the outside and made you look at it.
The result is a parking structure that reads like a fossil: the impression of a thousand cars, layer after layer, pressed into gray concrete. From the river walk below, the stacked rings resemble the petals of a concrete sunflower. Or the chambers of a nautilus. Or something that grew here, rather than something built here.
There is also the matter of the valets. Residents do not park their own cars. Attendants handle the maneuvering, riding a small vertical manlift inside the garage core to move between floors rather than walking the long spiral ramps. The system has operated this way for sixty years. The garage is not just architecture. It is a choreography.
But let's roll back to the movie, which was called “The Hunter”. It was released in 1980. It was Steve McQueen's last film.
Roger Ebert called it "one of those awful movies catering to a star's ego and image." He was not wrong. McQueen plays Ralph "Papa" Thorson, a professional bounty hunter sent to Chicago to apprehend a fugitive named Ritchie Blumenthal. Ritchie is played by Eli Wallach, an actor you probably remember as Tuco, the Ugly, from “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” the one who got to live at the end because he knew where the gold was buried.
In “The Hunter”, Tuco does not get to live.
Papa Thorson chases Ritchie through Chicago. They end up at Marina City. Ritchie carjacks a brand-new 1980 Jasmine Green Pontiac Grand Prix. McQueen, because this is that kind of movie, commandeers a red tow truck. There is a car chase up the spiral ramp of the west tower. They wreck a magnificent number of other cars on the way up. When Ritchie reaches the top of the nineteenth floor, there is nowhere left to go. He turns around. Steve McQueen is below him in the tow truck, blocking the ramp. The only exit is the open edge.
And the car goes over.
On September 21, 1979, filmmakers staged the shot with a dummy behind the wheel of the Pontiac. Hundreds of spectators lined Wacker Drive and the riverbanks to watch. The car launched from the nineteenth floor, turned slowly in the air, and hit the Chicago River. The impact was so violent that the filmmakers reportedly changed the script. The character was originally supposed to survive.
Watch the footage, and you understand why it became a legend. The green car soars out of the concrete structure, and for one long second, it hangs in the air above the river, nose tilting down, catching the light. Then it plunges. The splash is enormous. Then the river closes over it, and it is gone.
Icarus. Every time. We cannot stop watching Icarus fall.
People remember Steve McQueen jumping. He did not jump. He watched someone else jump from the safety of a tow truck. The bad guy jumped. The villain jumped. The man who stole the car jumped. McQueen stayed on the ramp.
It does not matter. The legend does not care about these details.
What the legend remembers is the feeling: the spiral ramp, the speed, the open edge, and then nothing but air and river below. The freedom of it. The terror of it. The two are the same thing from that height.
Bertrand Goldberg understood this. He built a parking garage with no walls because he wanted you to feel the city. He wanted you to see the river from every level. He wanted the car, the building, the water, and the sky to be one continuous experience. He did not want you to park in the dark. He built the most open parking garage in the history of American architecture, and then he put it at the base of two of the most recognizable towers in Chicago.
A film crew saw what he built and immediately understood: this is a place where something can happen. A car can leave the ground here. The city is right there. The river is right there. There is no barrier between the machine and the void.
They were right. And the legend that grew from that one stunt has outlasted the film, outlasted the reviews, outlasted Roger Ebert's verdict on Steve McQueen's ego.
The parking garage became more famous than the movie. The movie became more famous than the facts. And the facts, as usual, are stranger and more interesting than anything the legend invented.
Stand on the State Street bridge. Look at the base of the west tower. Count the floors. Nineteen. Find the top level and trace the edge with your eye. That is where the car went over. That is where the river begins, sixty feet below, green and moving.
Now look at the whole structure. Look at the stacked rings, the open bays, the raw concrete catching the afternoon light. This is what Goldberg built: a machine for living, a city compressed into two towers, a parking garage that refuses to be hidden. It is sixty years old, and it still looks like nothing else in the world.
The legend got the wrong man in the car. But it got the right building.
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