Wrigley Field Marquee
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: 1060 West Addison Street, Chicago, IL
ARCHITECTS: Zachary Taylor Davis (the ballpark), Federated Sign Company of Chicago (the marquee)
YEAR BUILT: 1914 (the ballpark), 1934 (the marquee)
For 108 years, October was silent at Clark and Addison.
Other cities hung their banners. Other marquees announced postseason games. At Wrigley Field, the red sign on the corner kept its mouth shut. It offered the same declarative text it always offered: "WRIGLEY FIELD — HOME OF CHICAGO CUBS." The opponent. The game time. Nothing else. No commentary. No apology. Just the brutal, indifferent fact of another season that ended too soon.
That silence was the weight the marquee carried. Not just painted steel, glass, and incandescent bulbs. The accumulated absence of 108 autumns.
A city poured its longing into a sign.
Most people think a marquee is an entrance marker. It is not. The Wrigley Field Marquee is a civic altar. It is the place where a city posts its hope, watches it fail, and comes back the next spring to post it again. That is not sentimentality. That is faith in its oldest and most brutal form: belief that outlasts evidence.
The sign was born in 1934. Not from architectural vanity. From cold, Depression-era arithmetic. The Cubs held 25,000 of their 40,000 seats for day-of-game walk-up fans. They needed a beacon. Something to pull pedestrians off the sidewalk and into the grandstand. The Federated Sign Company of Chicago delivered a curved Art Deco blade that projected over the sidewalk, painted in saturated red, lit by neon tubing and incandescent bulbs. Across its face ran six words: "WRIGLEY FIELD, HOME OF THE CUBS."
The intersection it presided over was not glamorous. A coal yard across Clark Street discharged smoke and dust. Active train tracks rattled the neighborhood. The elegant geometry of the sign, those cascading soft curves in Streamline Moderne font, was a calculated insult to everything surrounding it. An urban oasis planted in grit. The mark of a man who believed that how you announce a thing determines what the thing becomes.
That man was Philip K. Wrigley. And he was right.
For the first four years, the sign was Mallard Green with gold trim, harmonizing with the ivy that gardener Bill Veeck was planting against the outfield walls. In 1939, it turned dark blue. In 1965, it turned the flashy red we know now. A high-contrast red that would stop commuters mid-stride and, as color television arrived, would detonate on the screen. The backside of the sign, visible only from inside the park at the home plate concourse, still shows the original Mallard Green and gold. The outside changes. The inside remembers.
Beneath the sign, workers climbed ladders before every homestand and slotted in metal letters one at a time. "PIRATES 1:20." "CARDINALS 1:20." Fingers stiff from wind off the lake on cold April mornings, spelling out the opponent with no suspicion that tourists would one day photograph those very letters as artifacts of a disappearing world. A misspelled name or reversed character became neighborhood lore. There was no technology to make it seamless. There was only the human hand, and the hand made mistakes, and the neighborhood loved it for that.
The Curse of the Billy Goat is a myth, and like all myths, it points to something real: the specific cruelty of sustained failure. Year after year, the sign hung over empty sidewalks while other cities prepared postseason banners. No commentary. No explanation. Just the red face of a building that had nothing to say in autumn. That silence accumulated. It became part of the sign's identity. The marquee that goes quiet in October. The altar where prayers go unanswered.
When ownership changed in the early 2010s, and the massive 1060 Project restoration began, craftsmen removed the sign in November 2015 and sent it to South Water Signs of Elmhurst. They stripped dozens of layers of paint down to bare steel. They restored a uniform red. They installed a modern HD video board behind the classic frame, constrained by Landmark Commission standards to display soft yellow text that mimics the warm glow of the original incandescent bulbs. They gave the old thing new bones while insisting it remember its own face.
On March 25, 2015, the City of Chicago designated the Wrigley Field Marquee a protected landmark. Not the ballpark. The sign. Architecture inseparable from the urban fabric of Lakeview. Steel, red paint, and changeable letters elevated to the status of a protected civic monument.
Next year, on November 2, 2016, the Cubs defeated the Cleveland Indians in the 10th inning of Game 7 of the World Series. One hundred and eight years dissolved overnight.
By November 5, when the city came to the sign to confirm what had happened, the marquee displayed four words it had never displayed in its 82-year history: "WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONS."
Strangers embraced at the corner of Clark and Addison. People touched the brick facade as if it were a reliquary. Others wrote chalk messages to dead fathers, dead grandfathers, people who had watched this sign go quiet every October and were now gone. The freshly restored red silhouette flashed its message in soft yellow light over a crowd that had been waiting a very long time.
What made it remarkable was not the spectacle. It was the restraint.
The marquee did not change its nature on that November morning. It did not become something it had never been. It simply did what it had always done: stated a fact. "WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONS." Steel frame. Red field. White letters. No flourish. The same unapologetic typography it wore in 1934 when it was trying to pull Depression-era pedestrians off a coal-dusted sidewalk.
That restraint is the point. The marquee was never designed for grandeur. It was designed for clarity. And clarity, held long enough against the chaos of longing and mythology and a century of October silence, becomes something indistinguishable from grace.
Come and visit this place.
Not on game day, when the crowd makes it easy to feel something. Go on a Tuesday morning in January, when the wind comes off the lake, and the intersection is empty, and the red sign hangs over a locked gate. Look up at it. Think about the hands that slotted letters in the cold. Think about the autumns, it had nothing to say. Think about what it means to keep announcing the next thing, year after year, in the full knowledge that it might end in silence again.
The marquee will outlast all of us. It will announce games our children's children will attend. It will go quiet in some future October, and it will come back the following April. It does not remember your hope or your despair. It does not carry the weight of your particular longing.
You carry that. The sign just tells you where to go.
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