This Wednesday the Public Authorities Control Board is likely to determine the fate of the large Atlantic Yards project. Lost in the great debate about the existence of this development is a second important issue: the developer’s plan for immense signs to mark the presence of the Nets arena. The signs would rise as high as 150 feet, equivalent to 15 stories, and extend for 75 feet along each of Atlantic and Flatbush avenues. They would be illuminated and could display moving images. This would greatly affect both the arena’s neighbors and the general public.

One may infer from the murky design guidelines — which prohibit advertising but define advertising as promotion only of goods and services located outside of Atlantic Yards — that the signs may advertise anything from beer to undies, so long as the goods are sold anywhere within the project area.

All this in an area surrounded by brownstone residences and small-scale retailers.

The developer, Forest City Ratner, justifies the Times Square-like immensity with assurances that signs in front of buildings would, at least often, be sufficiently transparent that viewers could see the structures behind — a tip of the hat to architect Frank Gehry whose thoughtful and imaginative designs will inevitably suffer from the visual clutter that one’s eyes will have to penetrate.

Why such enormous signs? And why must they even partially obscure the architecture? The developer does not offer an explanation, but says that the signs will have no appreciable environmental impact because their size and style will be “consistent” with other sports facilities. But this is empty verbiage. In fact, no other sports facility in New York City has signage that is remotely comparable to that proposed here.

By coincidence, a proposal is pending to rebuild Madison Square Garden a block to the west of its present location. The promoter of that project also wants enormous signage, arguing that the signs are necessary in order to inform the attending public where to find the entrance. Surely such patronizing insufficiently credits the intelligence of sports enthusiasts who seem quite capable of finding Shea and Yankee stadiums with very little guidance from signs.

Although the architect did not address signage specifically when he spoke in October 2005 at Columbia University, Mr. Gehry did talk about the problems involved in fitting in an arena that “at night brings a lot of people in, and is bright and sparky and a party” and what that then means during the day. I would ask, does it mean that every nightclub, restaurant, and other place of public amusement should enjoy an exemption from prevailing sign regulations in order to be “bright and sparky and a party”? Or, preferably, shouldn’t all commercial operators keep the party inside their premises and not impose the sparkiness on their neighbors?

Forest City Ratner assures us that its signage will be different from all others — a union of signs and architecture such that one is indistinguishable from the other. But the developer’s assurance does not stand up to scrutiny. The design guidelines contain virtually nothing about such integration. Worse, the only reliable depiction of the signage scheme shows the signs neatly lined up in front of the buildings, just like construction fences plastered with giant posters.

People attending events at Shea and Yankee stadiums seem capable of finding their way without signs because, I would suggest, the stadiums’ very appearance proclaims their function. They are structural icons. They look like stadiums. There is no need for a sign announcing the obvious.

Similarly, the Empire State Building announces, “This is New York” far more effectively than a billboard ever could. The Statue of Liberty welcomes the visitor into New York Harbor, gateway to the land of the free. Could a sign do as well? The Guggenheim Museum and the Rose Center at the American Museum of Natural History clearly proclaim their functions by architectural design alone. The Eiffel Tower announces, “Ici, Paris,” and you do not have to know the language to get the gist. And one need only see the Roman Coliseum to know that this is a center for sports and entertainment extravaganzas. Ask yourself whether a huge illuminated sign would add to your understanding.

Hang signs on any of these icons and one of two things will happen. You will obscure the icon’s message if the sign gives a different one, i.e., is the message “Ici, Paris” or is it “Buvez Pernod” as the sign commands? Or you will cheapen the icon’s message if the sign pretends to explain what should be obvious from the icon itself.

It is astonishing that anyone could think that the Nets arena, designed by today’s master of the iconographic building, would require even a discreet nameplate. Mr. Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum has put Bilbao, Spain, on the tourist map. His visually throbbing Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles shouts “music” like the final chords of a Beethoven symphony.

Perhaps the vision of an exquisite revenue stream from the advertising blinds the developer of Atlantic Yards to the iconographic value of the building itself. That is a good reason for having government oversee such development. If the project goes forward, the Public Authorities Control Board should insist that the city and Empire State Development Corporation — the latter is the project’s direct overseer — impose regulations that would effectively control the signage and let the Nets arena speak for itself.

Mr. Gruen, a lawyer, is a member of the Municipal Art Society’s Streetscape Committee.