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The Museum of Modern Art’s Cineprobe program and Essential Cinema at Anthology Film Archives: curating underground film

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The Museum of Modern Art’s Cineprobe program and Essential Cinema at Anthology Film Archives: curating underground film

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Content Copyright 2020 Eve Moeykens-Arballo THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART’S CINEPROBE PROGRAM AND ESSENTIAL CINEMA AT ANTHOLOGY FILM ARCHIVES: CURATING UNDERGROUND FILM by Eve Moeykens-Arballo A Thesis Presented to the FACULTY OF THE USC ROSKI SCHOOL OF ART AND DESIGN UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements of the Degree MASTER OF ARTS (CURATORIAL PRACTICES AND THE PUBLIC SPHERE) May 2020 ii Acknowledgements I would be remiss in thinking that the text that follows is singularly authored by myself. Like any complex body of text, this one was the result of many thoughts that came before my own and the research of others in addition to that which I introduced. It is necessary to me to acknowledge the work of the scholars, artists, and writers have followed similar traces and allowed me to pick up where they left off. The backbone of half of this thesis, which pertains to the Cineprobe film series at MoMA required the use of archival documents and primary research to bolster a dive into a topic that has not yet been written about in detail. Despite their partial closure due to renovation, I thank the MoMA archives for accommodating me and to the archivists who pulled the folders which I then perused. Additionally, I would be equally remiss to ignore the spaces where this thesis began, continued, and ended: the Los Angeles Central Library and the University of Southern California’s Helen Topping Architecture and Fine Arts library. In these spaces the bulk of these pages were conceived, fleshed out, and written. Finally, I would like to thank the numerous people in my life who helped in some fashion with this thesis. I thank my chair Andy Campbell for your grounding when I was clearly very much in my head, for giving me guidance and the confidence to continue. I would like to thank Karen Moss, program director, professor, and thesis reader for your multifaceted support and generosity in every arena of this experience. I would like to thank Dino Everett whose knowledge and experience inspired me to pursue this topic. Finally, I would like to thank the following people who have helped me throughout this process in some fashion: Victor Arballo and Pamela Formica, Saoirse Bertram, Carson Ehlert, Bianca M. Morán, Carlo Tuason, and Joseph Daniel Valencia iii Table of Contents Acknowledgements ......................................................................................................................... ii Abstract .......................................................................................................................................... iv Introduction .................................................................................................................................... 1 Section 1: Cineprobe ...................................................................................................................... 9 A. Audience Accessibility .................................................................................................... 13 B. Accessibility for filmmakers ........................................................................................... 21 C. A Chronological Study of the Cineprobe Series Programming .................................. 25 Section 2: Anthology Film Archives ........................................................................................... 31 A. Collection Selection ......................................................................................................... 42 B. Audience Access .............................................................................................................. 45 C. Discursive Protocols ........................................................................................................ 49 Section 3: Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 52 Bibliography ................................................................................................................................. 59 iv Abstract This thesis traces the development of two historical film programming series: The Museum of Modern Art’s Cineprobe film series and Anthology Film Archives Essential Cinema series. While these institutions histories have been carefully documented, their programming has not. By examining for the first time the Cineprobe film series, this thesis analyzes how its programming was made accessible to audiences and fiilmmakers through discursive protocols as well as details a chronological study of the programming which comprised the Cineprobe series (from 1968-roughly 1996). Anthology Film Archives, which houses much of the avant-garde and underground cinema of the 1950s-1970s began with a utopian vision of creating a pedagogical platform through their Essential Cinema series. This thesis examines the collection selection of this initial repertory film programming which turns into the Essential Cinema series as well as audience access of these materials and how these materials were contextualized for users. Together these case studies are historical examples of how in-situ archival programming can be an accessible form of exhibition of underground film. 1 Introduction On December 12th, 1969, film maker Hollis Frampton wrote in a letter to Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) curator Adrienne Mancia, “Most of us owe the MoMA film Archive a great debt, and I can speak particularly for myself in this. Fully half of my education in film, to date, has come out of it. It serves the future of our art.” 1 Someone bracketed this portion of the letter and wrote, in the margins, “WVD!” These initials stood for Willard Van Dyke, director of MoMA’s film department from 1965 to 1974 and the person who is credited with laying the groundwork for the future course of film exhibition at MoMA. One of Van Dyke’s signal efforts during his tenure became the longest running film program at MoMA, Cineprobe. Frampton’s statement, too, was an acknowledgment of Van Dyke’s efforts in acquiring and making accessible new works in the film library. The question of access is particularly nuanced for moving image archives, since their holdings are often under copyright restrictions that can last decades and levy severe restrictions on how materials can be disseminated. This thesis concerns itself with access as it applies to the moving image archive, specifically the historical attempts at moving image access made by the MoMA and Anthology Film Archives. Scholar Kristen Alfaro uses Anthology Film Archives’ 2 adaptation to and embracing of new technology as a correlative for how the twenty-first century archive should function: “the twenty-first-century archive shifts away from the object-centered archival and museum disposition into content access, tying archival discourse to media history and portable technology, which provided decentralized and increased content access to moving 1 Lowry, I.11.6. MoMA Archives, NY. 2 Following convention, Anthology Film Archives will be abbreviated to Anthology from this point on. 2 images.” 3 The underground film movement was defined by a dedication to access: given that film makers identified with this movement considered themselves to be outside of the commercial mainstream, making their work accessible to viewers became their primary goal. 4 As early as 1946, Maya Deren, after finding herself unable to get satisfactory distribution or exhibition of her work, rented out the Provincetown Playhouse in New York’s Greenwich Village and exhibited her work herself. This act of seeking alternative methods of exhibition would ripple throughout the entirety of the underground film movement, becoming a method taken on by artists such as Jonas Mekas and Bruce Baillie. The popularity of such screenings would eventually make its way back to the ears of curators at institutions such as MoMA. Even to this day MoMA presents an impersonal and silent façade to the world. Yet it somehow slipped in its totalizing image when it decided to incorporate within it one of the last remains of the public commons: the library. Within this library, there is an archive, one whose contents were unintentionally but nearly copied by Anthology Film Archives’ when developing their Essential Cinema collection. In his ode to the unstable nature of the concept of “the beginning,” Archive Fever, Derrida states that “effective democratization can always be measured by this essential criterion: the participation in and the access to the archive.” 5 But, upon further reflection, when was the last time an archive felt like a participatory or accessible space? To clarify, when was the last time an archive in an institution carried either of those traits? If we consider that archives exist in a constant state of contradiction, torn between preserving artifacts and making them accessible, it at least becomes easier to understand why 3 Kristen Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film: New Technologies and Anthology Film Archives’ Institutionalizations of the Avant-Garde.” The Moving Image 12, no. 1 (Spring 2012): 45. 4 Following the precedent set by P. Adams Sitney and others, in reference to experimental, underground, or independent film, the widely used but still much debated moniker underground will be used. 5 Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: a Freudian Impression (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 11. 3 Derrida’s line of inquiry is not currently embodied by institutional archives. In its handbook, the Association of Moving Image Archivists attempts to elucidate its position on preservation and access: Preservation is an often-misused term. In the profession it is a precise and fundamental concept: the totality of things necessary to ensure the permanent accessibility – forever – of an audiovisual document with the maximum integrity. It is not a discrete process. In the digital context, more than ever, it is a never-ending management task. Nothing has ever been preserved – it is only being preserved. Yet preservation is never an end in itself: without the objective of access it has no point. 6 However, working against legal and copyright restrictions, many moving image archivists lose sight and the ability to exist as they are meant to, going so far as to make statements like “it’s a real conundrum, because… you know, it’s the saying… ‘if you build it, they will come.’ And, in a lot of ways, I don’t want them to come, but then what’s the point of having this stuff in the first place?” 7 As mentioned by the discontented moving image archivist above, the archive—acting as the supplemental domicile of memory—cannot function as such unless its users are able to access what it contains. But we find, again and again, that accessing an archive is no easy task. Researchers, citizens, or any other interested parties know that planning and visiting archives is a process. Scholarly and non-scholarly use of audiovisual archives requires funds, planning, and a knowledge of how to navigate and utilize primary sources, all of which might inherently limit access. Acknowledging the farce of neutrality in an archival setting restores the subjectivity of the archivist while denying the power of the archive to have influence over…, and archives more 6 Ray Edmondson, Audiovisual Archiving: Philosophy and Principles (France: United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 2016), v. 7 Karen F. Gracy, “Ambition and Ambivalence: A study of Professional Attitudes toward Digital Distribution of Archival Moving Images,” The American Archivist 76, No. 2 (2013): 356, https://www.jstor.org/stable/43490359. 4 regularly prioritize access-oriented use over preservation has come to the forefront of archival discourse. 8 Culturally competent policies around access to archives are crucial, as multiple voices in the archival field have reiterated that “free access is a form of preservation that can expand scholarship and enrich communities.” 9 Further, Rick Prelinger, archivist and vocal advocate on the topic of redefining access to moving image archives in the twenty-first century also emphasizes that access determines whether archives flourish or stagnate. 10 Access as a term used more frequently in regard to libraries, but not necessarily with archives. In the context of a library, providing access to information is one of its core values. Built into policies of libraries—especially those named as “public” in some way—is a commitment to free and open access to information for anyone. Beyond making materials simply available, libraries and librarians engage in intentional and deliberate efforts to provide their patrons with resources. This is what can be referred to as equitable access that encompasses sometimes intentionally providing outreach to community members to ensure information is accessible. Moving image archives, on the other hand, tend to prioritize preservation over access, despite the fact that the two are deeply interrelated. This is a point made by Caroline Frick, who notes in her text, Saving Cinema: The Politics of Preservation, that “the ‘archive’ is increasingly 8 See: Michelle Caswell and Marika Cifor, “From Human Rights to Feminist Ethics: Radical Empathy in Archives,” Archivaria 81 (Spring 2016): 23-43; “Introduction to Bio-Fiction Classification Theory: Remix Methodologies and the Archivist,” Dino Everett, The Moving Image, Volume 8, Number 1, Spring 2008, pp. 15-37; Michelle Caswell, “Inventing New Archival Imaginaries: Theoretical Foundations for Identity-Based Community Archives,” in Identity Palimpsests: Ethnic Archiving in the U.S. and Canada (Sacramento, CA: Litwin Books, 2014), 35-55; Anne Gilliland, “Neutrality, Social Justice, and the Obligations of Archival Education and Educators in the Twenty-first Century,” Archival Science 11 (2011): 193-209; and more on http://www.archivistsagainst.org/readings/. 9 Rick Prelinger quoted in Kristen Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 45. 10 Rick Prelinger, “Points of Origin: Discovering Ourselves Through Access,” The Moving Image 9, no. 2 (2010): 166. 5 imbued with notions of sanctioned cultural value, protection, ownership, and power— power emboldened and sanctioned by the archive’s emphasis upon preservation.” 11 Since the 1970s and 1980s, moving image archives have shifted to further defending their sequestration of materials for the sake of national heritage. As David Marriott observes in “Conceptualizing the ‘Original’: Artifact, Intent, Experience, and Process in Avant-Garde Film Preservation”: Frick identifies the more contemporary large-scale transition from an access to a preservation focus as a phenomenon of the 1970s and 1980s. During this period, American archives moved away from validating preservation activities within the logic of film as art, or film as history, and segued instead into an ideological partnership with a European (and specifically British) model of valuing film as national heritage. 12 This transition ultimately proved to minimize the efforts of archivists to make their holdings accessible to the public, leading to a level of ambivalence and confusion around what the purpose of an archive is and what its goals should be. With the additional aforementioned possibility that open access could be illegal, archivists were further disincentivized from finding ways to make holdings more accessible. Prelinger, a vocal proponent of rearranging the current preservation hierarchy to prioritize access over preservation, finds that “excepting a few exemplary institutions, access to most moving image collections is still minimal… Access is often restricted to scholars working on projects that the archives’ director deems useful.” 13 Therefore, if access to archival holdings is possible, it’s often only for scholars with an affiliated project, excluding stakeholders such as interested community members and unaffiliated public researchers. 11 Caroline Frick, Saving Cinema: The Politics of Preservation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 13. 12 David Marriott, “Conceptualizing ‘The Original’: Artifact, Intent, Experience, and Process in Avant--‐Garde Film Preservation,” PhD diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 2014. 13 Rick Prelinger, “Archives and Access in the 21 st Century,” Cinema Journal 46, No. 3 (Spring, 2007), pp. 114- 118. 6 While Prelinger is pushing for archives to resituate themselves in the 21st century by embracing digital access, there are still many who feel this is not the solution. Jodi Dean’s notion of communicative capitalism postulates that “ideals of access, inclusion, discussion and participation come to be realized in and through expansion, intensifications and interconnections of global telecommunications.” 14 When viewed in terms of a situation of complete content access to moving images, this unfortunately does not lead “to more equitable distributions of wealth and influence, instead of enabling the emergence of a richer variety in modes of living and practices of freedom, the deluge of screens and spectacles undermines political opportunity and efficacy for most of the world’s peoples.” 15 Is the “deluge of screens and spectacles” that would occur as a result of the utopian fantasy of complete and open digital access to moving images really the future that we hope for? As Prelinger himself asks “Where is the way out?” 16 How can an ethical yet accessible model of exhibition of archival moving images exist? What would it look like? The notion of on-site archival exhibition has many negative associations, as it is confining, uncomfortable, and in some cases affirms the corporate ownership of the film itself. 17 Finally, and consequentially for anyone wishing to do on-site archival viewing, the moving image archive tends to be a rather unwelcoming space; it is often cold (by necessity), and windowless. Instead: imagine a simple room or, even better, an auditorium or theater. Picture a space that has seating, a screen, and a projector. Along with it, free or affordable ticket prices. Perhaps, ideally, there is an opportunity to converse with the filmmaker (or member of the film crew). For 14 Jodi Dean, “Communicative Capitalism: Circulation and the Foreclosure of Politics,” Cultural Politics 1, Issue 1 (2005), 55. 15 Ibid. 16 Rick Prelinger, “Archives and Access in the 21 st Century,” 116. 17 Caroline Frick, Saving Cinema, 156. 7 some archives, expending the resources to do such an event on a regular basis may be beyond their capacity. For others the resources are there, and such an endeavor is possible. In her essay “Experimental Screens in the 1960s and 1970s: The Site of Community,” Tess Takahashi uses the underground movements of these two decades to reflect on screening spaces “as a site of critical entry.” 18 Today, the screen can also be a site of critical entry into the archive, taking a space that is imbued with inaccessibility and barriers and transforming it into “a rich site of community, movement, and exchange.” 19 Rather than advocating for the possibility of open access to archival moving images in the digital realm, I am concerned in this thesis with the possibility of archival exhibition in a theatrical setting as a model for access. I will explore the ways in which two historically significant archival screening series, the MoMA’s Cineprobe series and Anthology’s Essential Cinema series, were shaped by both access and creating models of how an accessible moving image archive might operate. This format of accessible exhibition can be understood as a three- pronged approach. First, the holdings are made accessible in the form of screenings which are free or affordable. Second, the acquisition policies or the determination process of what is exhibited is ethical. Third, they must have a discursive protocol 20 in the form of written text or a discussion with the filmmaker. Essentially, accessible exhibition embodies access from top to bottom, from screen to archive. While the third aspect may not immediately seem to be relevant 18 Tess Takahashi, “Experimental Screens in the 1960s and 70s: The Site of Community,” Cinema Journal 51, no. 2 (2012): 167. 19 Ibid. 20 Originally coined by Michele Pierson in her essay “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde: Talk about American Experimental Cinema,” discursive protocols refer to the integral accoutrements which make a viewing experience meaningful. This may include critical practices such as verbal interactions around the work with the presence of the filmmaker or text that accompanies the work. Discursive protocols are meant to provide the opportunity for the audience member to engage with the work more fully, to negotiate their own response to the work. For more, see Pierson, The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde: Talk about American Experimental Cinema, 7. 8 to what is associated with access, if we refer back to the notion of equity, making a film accessible is more than making it available to be seen. 21 As Jesper Andersen states, “showing a film is not enough.” 22 Providing access to spectators is an intentional act that carries with it the onus to do more than just show the film. An explanation and conversation with a filmmaker tends to be more satisfying to viewers, while written text such as program notes leaves a trace, allowing others to discover the series over time. 23 Beyond the fiscal incentive of an affordable or free film program, however, I am arguing that the programmatic models of Cineprobe and the Essential Cinema series implemented––in terms of what they chose to select and how it was selected––the goal of accessibility. Out of the myriad of moving image materials, I am choosing to focus on underground film for its poetic correlation to the archive. The way discourse is formed around difficulty of accessing the holdings of moving image archives rhymes historically and currently with the difficulty of accessing underground films. Alison Lynn Wielgus writes in “You Had to Have Been There: Experimental Film and Video, Sound, And Liveness in The New York Underground,” her doctoral dissertation, “in the realm of the avant-garde, difficulty of access is all too common.” 24 The efforts towards making underground film accessible, by Jonas Mekas, Maya Deren, Stan Brakhage with his fantasy (not too far off, by the way) of 8mm films being sold like books and by the curators of MoMA’s Cineprobe Adrienne Mancia and Lawrence 21 Michele Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde: Talk about American Experimental Cinema.” Discourse 40, no. 1 (2018): 16. 22 Jesper Andersen, "Showing a Film is Not enough," Journal of Film Preservation no. 81 (11, 2009): 5-24. 23 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 16. 24 Alison Lynn Wielgus, “You Had to Have Been There: Experimental Film and Video, Sound, And Liveness in the New York,” Underground.” PhD diss., The University of Iowa, 2014, 131. 9 Kardish correlate with the efforts of archivists like Rick Prelinger and a polemic view of content access in the moving image archive. Aside from the symbolic resemblance between the fight for access to moving image archives and the fight for exhibition and distribution of underground films—itself another form of access—there exists an important yet understudied film series which tasked itself for decades upon decades with the exhibition of independent and underground films: Cineprobe. While located very visibly in MoMA, this series fell under the radar for many years. Its history, while only partially delineated here, has yet to be fully excavated. On the other hand, a comparatively well-known series which was one of the cornerstones of Anthology, the Essential Cinema series, has recently been examined for its commitment to access. Cineprobe, an independent film program which began in 1968 was curated by Larry Kardish and Adrienne Mancia, both of MoMA’s Film Department. The Essential Cinema series which was developed in tandem with Anthology, consists of 110 programs and 330 titles compiled by James Broughton, Ken Kelman, Peter Kubelka, P. Adams Sitney, and Jonas Mekas. In this thesis, MoMA’s Cineprobe and Anthology’s Essential Cinema are utilized as case studies because they are both examples of film series (or an institution in the case of Anthology) that were purportedly fiscally and structurally committed to making underground films accessible. Since the underground film movement was built upon accessibility and fighting for accessibility, a key question is: why would we not see that expressed in film series purporting to value them? Section 1: Cineprobe In October of 1968, the still somewhat nascent film department at MoMA announced the start of the Cineprobe film series, a self-described confrontation between filmmaker and film- 10 viewer which would occur biweekly on Tuesdays. 25 Cineprobe was intended to function as a clarifying and informal encounter for museum attendees, a way for them to see the man behind the curtain so to speak. “It is seldom that an audience has the occasion to receive firsthand information from the filmmaker,” stated Willard Van Dyke. “Now questions about style or concept can be addressed to the man who made the film and the audience should be better able to understand the motivation and problems encountered by today’s filmmaker.” 26 Cineprobe purported to be the first of its kind, a unique experience for both filmmaker and film viewer. 27 A chance for a discussion and exchange of ideas to occur in conjunction with a viewing of an artist’s work. This opportunity sounds familiar enough nowadays, when roundtables and moderated conversations between makers and consumers seem natural and expected. In fact, it is seen as part of the programmer, curator, or director’s job to organize these interactions. But MoMA’s extant archives evidence a time when such an arrangement was novel. Cineprobe has not yet been researched or written on widely, and the Museum of Modern Art has not yet published any texts related to its longest running film series. Therefore, the primary research compiled for this study is pulled mainly from MoMA’s archives, from texts on MoMA’s film screenings during 1968-1994, and from the few peer-reviewed articles that exist which mention Cineprobe. Michele Pierson points out in her essay “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde: Talk about American Experimental Cinema,” that “it needs to be acknowledged that finding and accessing materials related to just some of the contexts in which an artist’s films 25 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe: A Confrontation between Film-Maker and Film-Viewer, New Series Introduced by the Museum of Modern Art, Features Stan VanDerBeek, December 17 th , 1968. Note here that the time, day, and frequency of Cineprobe changed as the series progressed. It started out biweekly on Tuesdays at 5:30, then shifted to weekly, occurring Mondays at 6:30. 26 Ibid. 27 We can see now through the work of Maya Deren’s screenings at the Provincetown Playhouse in 1946 which typically involved a conversation between viewer and filmmaker that a precedent had been set and adopted by the underground long before Cineprobe. 11 might have been shown can present considerable practical challenges and obstacles.” 28 The real life consequences of limited access to archival materials along with the reality that histories of the past cannot fully be captured and recorded by an archive makes itself known not only in the discussion of underground film, but is also embedded into the structure of this thesis. The Western fascination with “finding beginnings, starting places, and origins,” 29 which here is presented quite plainly within its milieu, does not need to limit the reading of either of these case studies as examples of access. What has been uncovered regarding Cineprobe is revealing and useful despite the lacunae, as “programming remains, at least as far as scholarly criticism is concerned, one of the least examined aspects of the history of experimental film exhibition.” 30 In late 1945 the definitive mother of the Film Department, Iris Barry (who, according to cinema studies scholar Haidee Wasson determined “what objects and media matter within the politics of cultural value and visual knowledge” 31 ) rejected a Rockefeller Foundation grant application written by Maya Deren. Barry, in her rejection letter suggested that Deren “would be wise to adopt another profession.” 32 In the wake of this institutional rebuke, a year later Deren started to show her own films in the Provincetown Playhouse, and developed a practice of allowing audiences to discuss the films with her. This model would ultimately be adopted as the dialogic heart of the Cineprobe film series when it commenced in 1968. 33 That same year, in a letter to Barry postmarked December 10, 1968 (a year before Barry passed away) Willard Van Dyke describes the need to fill out MoMA’s film collection, as “no 28 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 22. 29 Carolyn Steedman, Dust: The Archive and Cultural History (New Brunswick, N.J: Rutgers University Press, 2002), 5. 30 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 18 31 Haidee Wasson, Museum Movies: The Museum of Modern Art and the Birth of Art Cinema (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 7. 32 Robert Sitton, “Iris Barry,” in Jane Gaines, Radha Vatsal, and Monica Dall’Asta, eds. Women Film Pioneers Project (New York, NY: Columbia University Libraries, 2015) https://doi.org/10.7916/d8-f2zz-7v28. 33 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 17. 12 systematic attempts” had been made thus far. 34 He elucidates this problem in the context of the collection’s bifocal mission: “the Film Library had [sic] two thrusts: to conserve and evaluate the past, and to probe the present.” 35 Van Dyke’s careful use of language (that MoMA ought to “probe the present”) is likely a reference to the titling of the Cineprobe series, and how he hoped it would signify to a larger audience. The first exploratory Cineprobe screening, which featured films by the Kuchar brothers, was held a little over a month before Van Dyke’s letter was sent. In response to the program the film department received a letter from a guest that was painted with disgust, which stated that “MoMA will never be able to deodorize the stench of the most nauseating scene ever portrayed in the entire history of the cinema.” 36 Van Dyke’s response to the staff: “It would appear that Cineprobe is a success.” 37 Experimental films, independent films, and less mainstream media began popping up in MoMA’s programs as early as 1952. 38 Experimental films from foreign countries such as Germany, France, Italy, and Sweden were programmed once or twice in the decade that followed. But it was not until the arrival of Adrienne Mancia that the film program at MoMA significantly changed. Mancia was hired in 1964 as an assistant to Richard Griffith—then the curator of the Film Library. Mancia quickly noticed an “unfortunate gap” in the museum’s activities regarding animation, and with the help of the Head of the Circulating Film Library, Margareta Akermark, she developed the “Wednesdays at Noon” film series which would screen 34 Lowry, I.11.6. MoMA Archives, NY. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid. 37 Ibid. 38 Museum of Modern Art, Junior Council of the Museum of Modern Art Presents the Third Program in its Series, “The Related Arts of Today,” “Why Experimental Films?” January 15, 1952. 13 shorts and animation. 39 After witnessing her work on this series, Willard Van Dyke then promoted Mancia to film event programmer 40 and together “Van Dyke and Mancia introduced a wide range of new film showings and festivals devoted to independent filmmakers, classical Hollywood films, international documentaries and animation and arranged events featuring artists, actors, and directors.” 41 Cineprobe was one of these. The title from the series, a portmanteau of sorts of the words cinema and probe was meant to embody the “objective” way in which the camera “probes” into the world yet encourages the subjective interpretations on the part of the film viewer of the filmmaker’s intentions. 42 A. Audience Accessibility The Cineprobe series functions in this thesis as an example of accessibility by exhibition. It did this in two ways which will be argued below: first, by making the space itself accessible to the public to see films, and second, by making the films of noncommercial, underground filmmakers which were otherwise difficult to view, accessible. Difficulty here concerns both the accessibility of the viewing experience and the content of the work. 43 Underground films are, by their very nature, created in the margins of the art world. They are resistant to categorization and are created with the intention of being “apart” from the center. Generally speaking, underground films are difficult to view when compared to other more accessible artworks or works of cinema. The second prong of difficulty vis à vis underground 39 Mark Langer, “Mancia Musings,” Animation World Magazine 1, no. 10 (January 1997), accessed November 25 th , 2018, https://www.awn.com/mag/issue1.10/articles/langer1.10.html. 40 Mancia became Curator of the Film Department in 1977, the second female curator in the department’s history at that time. 41 James L. Enyeart, Willard Van Dyke: Changing the World Through Photography and Film (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2008), 278. 42 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe: A Confrontation between Film-Maker and Film-Viewer, New Series Introduced by the Museum of Modern Art, Features Stan VanDerBeek, December 17th, 1968. 43 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 7. 14 film refers to the actual content of the pieces. Structural film is widely considered a “difficult” work to comprehend and, for some, to sit through. 44 Other underground films, however, are easily received by a variety of audiences. Works with a cogent narrative, or with an intentional gimmick that is relatable, or packed with references that an ideal audience member will pick up on, cannot be described as difficult in the same way at all. But acknowledging the variety that can exist is key. Therefore, difficulty is not simply content or accessibility, it is both. 45 In the context of this thesis, difficult is used primarily in the former sense; there was a scarcity of opportunities for these works to be shown in their milieu. However, if a certain level of difficulty of interpretation is inherent to the medium of underground film, then this sense of the word is also relevant in this thesis. By making “difficult” films available to the public in a location that was associated with the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque or other spaces familiar to members of the underground film movement, but perhaps not to the general public, the Cineprobe film series was doing something that had not yet been done before: making a space available for the general public, students, and filmmakers themselves to share in the communal experience of watching films together and to have a discussion with the filmmaker afterwards. Cineprobe provided access to underground 44 Ibid. 45 Citing Jennifer Doyle’s Hold It Against Me: Difficulty and Emotion in Contemporary Art (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2013), Pierson unpacks Doyle’s explanation of difficulty vis à vis her own argument: “One of the arguments that Jennifer Doyle makes in a moving defense of emotionally confrontational performance, film, and photographic works by artists such as Ron Athey, David Wojnarowicz, and Carrie Mae Weems is that the art world has successfully communicated the idea ‘that certain forms of difficulty are good for us: the illegibility of nonfigurative and nonrepresentational work; the austerity of abstraction and minimalism; the rigor of institutional critique.’ Doyle’s point is that art that takes difficult emotional territory as its subject matter and material (ambivalence, intimacy, aggression, anger) rarely receives the same level of institutional endorsement. If difficulty remains an especially important aesthetic value in Doyle’s writing, she also makes the observation that all kinds of art may be difficult in some respects and accessible in others” (Pierson, 7). Regarding this last statement, Doyle finds that works such as Electronic Disturbance Theater’s Transborder Immigrant Tool and La Pocha Nostra’s Mapa/Corpo “[o]n many levels, these works are in fact more accessible to audiences than minimalist sculpture—but this, for some critics, is exactly the problem” (Doyle, Hold It Against Me, 12). 15 films for multiple publics and provided underground filmmakers access to audiences at a time when exhibition was difficult. Access was a foundational element of the underground film movement, but it is undeniable that they were not “easy” films to find. While it seems obvious, one could not walk into a commercial movie theater and expect to find a film by Su Friedrich, Jonas Mekas, or Shirley Clarke. Prior to the ease of searching on internet platforms, it sounds hellish to imagine what audiences who wanted something different than the traditional commercial fare had to do to find such screenings. Look for flyers? Scour newspapers like Variety, the Village Voice, then Film Culture? Walk from Greenwich Village to the Lower East Side in search of an alternative theatre? Aside from these options, there were most likely dozens of possible audience members whose social spheres never coincided just right to have the opportunity to be exposed to underground media. If they had just been at the right place at the right time or looked at that butterfly drawn by Mekas for a second longer, a world could have opened to them. 46 The lack of visibility which was both intentionally and unintentionally characteristic of the underground film movement, particularly the New American Cinema Group, made its audience a niche group which was not visible to broader publics. Therefore, for films made by members of this movement to be screened at the Museum of Modern Art, a visible and recognizable location to many, opened the doors to groups who may not have heard of these films before. Evidence of a heterogeneous audience is affirmed by the examining the ticketing 46 I bring up the precarity of audience because while the same gatekeeping exists nowadays, it is a different process entirely for members of the general public to discover film screenings. There is Facebook, for one, which does not cover the entirety of the film scene, but may allow more access points than previously existed for certain kinds of moving image productions not dependent on space, non-digital materiality, and/or sexually graphic imagery, for instance. 16 policy that was enforced at MoMA for the Cineprobe series. 47 In 1986, a General Admission ticket to the Cineprobe series was $5.00, a student ticket was $3.50, and was $2 for those over the age of 65. Adjusted for inflation, the prices are respectively $11.71, $8.20, and $4.69. Considering the average movie theater ticket price in 2019 is $9.26, we can see that these prices were probably prohibitive to many potential audience members. However, there was another dimension to this policy. The program started at 6:30 p.m.. If audience members arrived after 6 p.m. they were admitted free (if seats were available). This policy continued until at least 1993. If a person worked until 5 or 6 p.m. and wanted to attend a film screening after work, they could do so at very little (or no) cost incurred. This half an hour window opened MoMA’s series to many people who could not afford or justify spending money on what would now be an above-average priced movie ticket. While identifying exactly how heterogeneous the Cineprobe audience was is difficult, there are several pieces of information which suggest that it was, in fact, more diverse than a comparable screenings at the Bleecker Street Cinema (which also screened underground films). First, film coordinator Lillian Gerard of MoMA describes in a letter to Variety that those in attendance were “filmmakers, film buffs, merely curious viewers and some unsuspecting ones.” 48 The first two populations that Gerard mentions are the predictable ones. But who made up the curious viewers and unsuspecting ones? And is it possible that these audience members came back for more? If we consider difficulty again here, an audience of “filmmakers and film buffs” 47 While textual evidence that pointed to this policy being carried out prior to 1986 was not located, that does not disqualify it as a possibility. At the very least we know that this policy was being enacted until 1993, where in a press release for Cineprobe it states “Funding: 1993- “Available tickets for CINEPROBE are free after 6:00 p.m. on the evening of each program. The series is programmed by Laurence Kardish and Adrienne Mancia, curators, and Jytte Jensen, assistant curator, Department of Film. The series is supported in part by The Contemporary Arts Council of The Museum of Modern Art and grants from the New York State Council on the Arts and the National Endowment for the Arts.” 48 FILM C.I.39. MoMA Archives, NY. 17 is more prevalent at these screenings primarily because the difficulty is appealing to them as makers or as appreciators of cinema. The difficulty of interpreting or maybe simply enjoying underground films undoubtedly limits their audience reach. As Michele Pierson writes, “It is not that there hasn’t also been discussion and debate over the last fifty years about the potential for and obstacles to introducing experimental films to an audience that, one way or another, isn’t already invested in and knowledgeable about experimental cinema.” 49 Such discourse does exist. But, Pierson continues, “The point is that the paper trail indicating what got shown where, who organizers thought their audience was, and who remembers who being there points to a different kind of audience.” 50 Pierson identifies that what often does not get discussed in relation to audience is the connection between educational institutions and underground film. Aside from filmmakers and critics, the “other” audience of underground screenings, in the words of Michael Zyrd, is “a college classroom audience.” 51 Underground film had made its way into classrooms of colleges and universities, perhaps because many underground filmmakers were themselves professors by day. 52 Therefore, it was students who made up the majority of the audience. Indeed, even Alfred Barr was a major proponent of the development of film studies as a discipline in the liberal arts. In 1969, after a discussion at the Fogg Museum, Dr. Ellen P. Wiese of Harvard University sent Barr a summary of a new course that was in the middle of its first run: Humanities 197, or Film Analysis. Humanities 197 was a General Education course that established a “university wide” study of film. 53 The implementation of a film studies course in the Harvard University curriculum corresponds with the development of the film studies 49 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 10. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52 One can think of many examples, such as Hollis Frampton, David Brooks, Stan Brakhage, Shirley Clarke, Ralph Bakshi, Robert Breer, James Broughton, Su Friedrich, Barbara Hammer, Ken Jacobs, Peter Kubelka, Standish Lawder, Babette Mangolte, Yvonne Rainer, Carolee Schneemann, Paul Sharits, and Stan Vanderbeek. 53 AHB, XIV.B. MoMA Archives, NY. 18 discipline throughout the 1960s. As students became more familiar with the study of cinema and were also exposed to professors who were working filmmakers—many of them in more underground and experimental scenes, it is not out of the realm of possibility that many of these students would attend screenings where the work of their professors was being shown, and maybe continue to attend on their own. But aside from this population, there were other attendees of the Cineprobe series; the traces of information which remain suggest that reception of the work was mixed. At the Kuchar brother’s screening on November 7 th , 1968, Adrienne Mancia addressed a prior complaint about the Jim McBride screening of David Holzman’s Diary which occurred two weeks before. This complaint stated “You mean well but David Holzman’s Diary was not a good choice, in fact uninteresting and bad—even the hippies walked out. Please no such selection on future Tuesdays. Why not a revival of Garbo’s Anna Christie or Norma Shearer’s Marie Antoinette some of these days. Maybe some Lillian Harvey Pictures too.” 54 Mancia read this complaint aloud to the audience, reciting afterwards: If the gentlemen who wrote this letter is in the audience, I should like to apologize since it is possibly my fault that there is a misunderstanding about Cineprobe. We have other film programs in the auditorium where one can see such classics as the gentleman suggests—I am thinking of key historical films which we show every Saturday morning and films from the Museum Archive every Wednesday. Cineprobe is essentially an exploratory film-program dedicated to probing the work and ideas of contemporary independent filmmakers. It is a program for anyone curious about the recent developments of film—films which are more often than not impossible to see in the commercial, New York movie house. We believe that these filmmakers deserve a showcase—an opportunity to present their works and talk with their public… We, too, at the Museum will risk showing controversial, perhaps outrageous new works—that’s what Cineprobe is all about.” 55 54 FILM C.I.26. MoMA Archives, NY. 55 Ibid. 19 Mancia’s response to an audience member’s poor reception of what can be called “difficult” work is both respectful to the audience member and also respectful to the spirit of Cineprobe. 56 She does not apologize for the film, but for the lack of clarity on her part as to the purpose of the Cineprobe series. Additionally, another complaint from an audience member (previously mentioned, which occurred after the screening of brothers George and Mike Kuchar’s films in 1968, is further evidence of a heterogenous audience. A seasoned spectator in the poetic and subversive nature of underground film would not have even thought to send such a complaint. Perhaps this is why Willard Van Dyke and the rest of the curatorial staff took it in stride; the complaint was a sign they were reaching those who they hadn’t previously (despite the negative reactions). Despite resistance in audience reception, two Cineprobes in a row, Mancia stands firm in her belief that these filmmakers deserve to be shown and highlights that the risk of reception is part of the exploratory nature of Cineprobe. Because the audience attending the biweekly Cineprobe series were likely heterogenous, an exploration of the possibilities of audience reception is useful. Using Stuart Hall’s concepts of a dominant, oppositional, and negotiated reading of the text (which here refers to the film that is being exhibited), we can assume that in the room on a given night, there were a mix of all three. To explicate briefly, a dominant reading is one in which the viewer accepts the “ideology of the text,” 57 and asks no further questions. An oppositional reading is one in which the viewer completely refuses the ideology associated with what they are viewing. Last, a negotiated reading is, as one can imagine, somewhat of a synthesis of the above readings. The individual both accepts and opposes certain parts of what they are viewing “in order to suit the specific 56 See page 17 for an explanation on difficulty utilized by Pierson through the work of Jennifer Doyle. 57 Stuart Hall, “Encoding, Decoding,” in The Cultural Studies Reader, ed. Simon During (London: Routledge, 1993). 20 needs of the individual.” 58 A dominant reading in this context would perhaps come from a naïve member of the audience, one who was not sure quite what they were seeing but were attentive in their viewing and were eager to see more. A student, or someone who is in the process of developing themselves as a thinker or a maker could perhaps read an underground film in this way. If we consider that many underground filmmakers were inspired by films, texts, ideas and stories which originated elsewhere, 59 and consider Hollis Frampton citing the Film Library at MoMA as the site of two thirds of his film education, it is entirely plausible that a student would fall into this population. An oppositional reading has already been evidenced above in the response from “Jesse Levine” who had such a strong negative reaction to the Kuchar brothers that he was motivated to write a letter to the Museum of Modern Art. We can imagine this demographic to be either a person who is intentionally ignorant and/or a person who has a very prosaic and perhaps outdated idea of cinema and of what is appropriate to be shown at an institution like MoMA. The third type that Hall proposes, a negotiated reading, could come from a member of the Film Maker’s Cooperative, a member of the underground film making world who was either familiar with the work, familiar with the artist, or familiar enough with the scene to understand the filmmaker’s goals. But that isn’t to say that every member of the cooperative or of the movement would share the same interpretation. Within this subgroup of spectators, and within each type of reading, a certain level of heterogeneity certainly still exists. A person may identify with a particular demographic or be a part of a particular demographic and this serves as no reliable indication that they will with 58 Ibid. 59 The list is endless, but to name a few, see Kenneth Anger, Greg Markopoulos, Stan Brakhage, James Broughton, Jonas Mekas, Jean Cocteau, Maya Deren, Curtis Harrington, Sidney Peterson, Mike and George Kuchar, Jack Smith, Rudy Burkhardt and Red Grooms. 21 certainty read a text a specific way. The presence of the critic, who was undoubtedly at screenings as well, is difficult to specify, as a critic may not necessarily come from a film background and may seemingly arbitrarily be opposed to certain kinds of work, it is difficult to predict how they would respond overall. With such a diverse audience, and one that is not exclusively underground filmmakers as may have been found at the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque, it is worth thinking about how many references were being caught by audience members. B. Accessibility for filmmakers At the end of July 1968, after seven months of operating at the Wooster Street Cinematheque, the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque closed down operations. In the Village Voice around this same time, Jonas Mekas wrote, “New York police and the Building Department close the Filmmakers' Cinematheque and inaugurate a long slump in the New York avant-garde film viewing. For the rest of the year, it becomes impossible to see independently made films on any regular basis.” 60 Mekas might have been too hasty in his judgment, as the Cineprobe series would begin three months after this statement. In this interim period, it is plausible that the same audience that attended the Bleecker Street screenings would seek out Cineprobe in the two years before Anthology Film Archives opened in 1970. While still somewhat different in content and curatorial outlook, Cineprobe provided the closest equivalent for filmmakers who sought both a platform to exhibit and a space to view underground film. Such is the second point of access that Cineprobe exercised: supporting a space for noncommercial filmmakers to make their work accessible to audiences. We see that Cineprobe was providing a space and a platform for filmmakers who did not have the opportunity to and most likely had no interest in commercial 60 Jonas Mekas quoted in Gary Comenas, “Jonas Mekas and the Film-Makers' Cinematheque cont.,” warholstars.org, 2014, https://warholstars.org/filmmakers-cinematheque-5-1968.html. 22 film exhibition. In a 1973 application for a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, Cineprobe’s proposal describes both how there has been an increase in underground film artists seemed to have expanded since August 1968, yet with the closing of the Cinematheque, “the opportunities for these filmmakers to have their works exhibited declined.” 61 Cineprobe thus was established, only a couple of months later to fill this void. On top of that, however, Cineprobe aimed to provide an opportunity for these makers to meet their audience, a model of interaction which had been employed in the underground scene since Maya Deren was hosting screenings at the Provincetown Playhouse. In 1953, Deren founded the Film Artists Society; having the filmmakers present to allow for discourse about their work was a common practice of their meetings. Generally, in New York and in other locations, the format of having the filmmaker present during and after a screening to discuss the work was reserved mainly for single-artist screenings, such as Cineprobe. 62 Aside from providing a space for exhibition, Cineprobe supported filmmakers fiscally. The same NEA application from 1973 cites that filmmakers are given an honorarium of $100, travel expenses are covered, and expense money for a two-day stay in New York is provided. With inflation adjustment, the $100 honorarium comes out to $578.29. According to W.A.G.E., the standard fee for a solo screening and in-person appearance is now is $100. 63 For the MoMA specifically, the honorarium given to the artist for a solo screening and in-person appearance $500. 64 This means that in 1973 the Cineprobe program was paying the standard fee for 2019 and by today’s money was still paying more than but more or less the same amount the 61 FILM C.I.12. MoMA Archives, NY. 62 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 17. 63 W.A.G.E., “Fee Calculator,” https://wageforwork.com/fee-calculator#top. 64 Ibid. 23 MoMA pays for a solo screening and in-person appearance in 2019. However, knowing that this was a grant proposal, we know that the funds were not coming from the museum to fund this honorarium, they were coming from an outside granting organization. These funds allowed Cineprobe’s curators to provide round trip airfare and room and board. The filmmaker could profit off their work in a way unconnected to ticket sales. Judging from correspondence, Larry Kardish and Adrienne Mancia were more than flexible when it came to finding ways to fiscally support the film makers as much as possible. For example, in an exchange with Paul Sharits from October 15 th , 1968, Kardish asks where Sharits would like to travel from and offers a round trip ticket for Sharits’ wife. 65 Kardish offers both to reimburse Sharits or to forward him the money, which suggests a level of flexibility and accommodation that is hard to imagine these days. Similarly, in a letter to Thomas Palazzolo in 1969, Kardish outlines how they will pay for Palazzolo and his wife’s lodging as well as the cab to and from the airport. Kardish also mentions the Cineprobe tradition: taking the filmmaker’s out for Chinese or hamburgers (their choice) after the evening has ended. It is possible that this level of generosity was only extended to certain filmmakers, and that the archive only reflects a part of the story, but at this point there is no real way to know except to ask those remaining filmmakers that are alive what it was really like. But based on the evidence that MoMA’s archive provides, it seems as though this generosity was standard for Kardish and Mancia. These exchanges show us too that they were invested in developing or maintain personal connections with the filmmakers that they brought to the series. Cineprobe’s commitment to access can be seen in how it made the space and content of its programming as accessible as possible to audience members and how it made itself available 65 FILM, C.I.62. MoMA Archives, NY. 24 to filmmakers seeking a platform. If Cineprobe had a commitment to access, it would be seen in these two areas, accessibility for the audience members and accessibility to the filmmakers, as they make up the entirety of the Cineprobe experience. Access, to iterate once more, in this thesis refers to the democratic, communal exhibition of film that has the pedagogical and ethical intention of disseminating information to as many people as possible, with as few restrictions as possible. In terms of its influence on the development of film programming, Cineprobe is rarely acknowledged for its impact. However, Michele Pierson writes “the founding of Cineprobe in the late 1960s marked an important moment for experimental film programming. By establishing this program, a major art institution acknowledged the contributions that young avant-garde filmmakers were making to the continuing vitality and diversity of film art.” 66 The real purpose of Cineprobe, as emphasized in the purpose section of their 1973 NEA grant was first to provide a forum for filmmakers, then a learning experience for young people, and an opportunity for diverse audiences consisting of “filmmaker’s students, and [sic] general public,” 67 to “gain insight into the creative process of promising filmmakers whose work has been unknown.” 68 It was symbiotically beneficial to both the filmmaker and the audience member to take part in an evening at the Cineprobe series. Last, because as Pierson writes “programming remains at least as far as scholarly criticism is concerned, one of the least examined aspects of the history of experimental film exhibition,” 69 a history of the types of filmic content one would find at a Cineprobe screening is below. 66 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 20. 67 FILM, C.I.9. MoMA Archives, NY. 68 Ibid. 69 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 18. 25 C. A Chronological Study of the Cineprobe Series Programming The Beginning (1968-1973) The first Cineprobe featured a selection of multi-screen films by Stan VanDerBeek projected onto his Movie Drome including “‘Violence Sonata,” which consists of computer- generated images, “Will,” an experiment in video tape; “Oh,” a traditional animated film; and a documentary on the Movie-Drome, built by Mr. VanDerBeek in Stony Point, New York, where he has his studio.” 70 The Movie-Drome (see Fig. 1) was a completely different type of viewing experience, one that was immersive: the viewer lays on their back and sees multiple films projected on the ceiling of the dome. There are no extant reviews of the first Cineprobe screening, unfortunately. What we do know is that Vanderbeek discussed his use of the Movie- Drome and his works in progress. Vanderbeek can be viewed as a emblematic choice for Kardish and Mancia, in that he questioned not only the content of films, but the ways in which they might be viewed. In its early iterations, the screenings of Cineprobe were diverse in their content and resisted strict categorizations such as “experimental film,” or “documentary.” Robert and Phoebe Kaylor’s debut film Max-Out (1970) is an illustrative example. The Kaylors worked with the Fortune Society, an “inter-racial organization of ex-convicts whose aim is to inform the public about prison conditions.” 71 Max-Out revolves around the life of Melvin Rivers, a man who has recently left prison. The film blurs the line between documentary and traditional diegesis. The story was written by Rivers and Ken Jackson, both of whom were formerly incarcerated. In addition, the dialogue was improvised by the cast, which included Amy Macrie, also formerly incarcerated, and Joseph Rizzo. While still directed by two white individuals who had never 70 Ibid. 71 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe Presents “Max-Out,” 1970. 26 experienced incarceration, it is evident that the Kaylor’s attempted to give as much control over the creative vision for this film to members of the Fortune Society. Further, compared to level of which MoMA as an art institution was aware of the issue of incarceration in 1970, 72 it was extraordinary at all that this film was being shown at this time and at this location. 73 More experimental programs were included in the first season of Cineprobe as well. The first was a program of films by the experimental filmmaker Standish Lawder, then an Assistant Professor of film history and filmmaking at Yale University. This particular program had never before been shown publicly and included Runaway, Corridor Film, and Necrology (a few words about it). Hollis Frampton termed the latter as “without doubt the sickest joke I've ever seen on film.” 74 Lawder’s films were structural and used montage to create new interpretations of existing footage. In addition to Lawder’s work, Adrienne Mancia selected films from Genesis Films, Ltd., a group which “was formed in 1968 to enable young, independent film- makers to show their work.” 75 Similarly to Lawder, these films were sculptural experiments in light and form, but were far more obscure. A pattern of showing subversive (at least for the time), as well as underground film starts to emerge at this point. During the 1972-1973 season which highlighted new and young directors, Ralph Bakshi was present for the screening and discussion of his first feature Fritz the 72 For example, at this time the Museum of Modern Art had the following exhibitions on display: Recent Acquisitions: Painting and Sculpture III (October 24 th , 1969-May 24 th , 1970); Recent Acquisitions IV (November 1 st , 1969-March 23 rd , 1970); an Atget exhibition (December 1 st , 1969-March 24 th , 1970); The Graphic Constructions of Josef Albers (December 8 th , 1969-February 24 th , 1970); A Salute to Alexander Calder (December 18 th , 1969- February 15 th , 1970); American Drawings and Watercolors: A Selection from the Collection (December 24 th , 1969- March 1 st , 1970); Spaces (December 30 th , 1969-March 1 st , 1970); and Sherman’s Campaign: Photographs by George N. Barnard (January 7 th -April 3th, 1970). 73 The authors of this particular press release included the following information about the cast and crew following the making of Max-Out: “Since completing ‘Max-Out,’ the Kaylors, with a grant from the American Film Institute, have made a documentary on Charles MacGregor, a former prisoner who is now Vice-President of the Fortune Society. Rivers is now writing a narrative documentary on his own, while Amy Macrie is studying acting. The men of the Fortune Society also continue their active involvement in the fight for penal reform.” 74 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe Presents Experimental Films by Standish Lawder, 1970. 75 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe Presents Genesis I & II, 1970. 27 Cat. Bakshi, a former cartoonist for Paramount Studios (what he referred to as “the mouse factory” 76 ) described Fritz the Cat as “not a story about a cat but a fairy tale about kids in the Sixties," 77 and “full of sex, violence, drugs and revolution.” 78 Bakshi pulled the character of Fritz the Cat from Robert Crumb’s Zap Comix, and attempted to find amusement as well as form a critique of 1960’s counter-culture. Fritz the Cat was financed by Steve Krantz Productions and Cinemation Industries and supposedly cost one million dollars. The same season included Guggenheim Quartet, four films made by James Herbert while he was a Guggenheim fellow. It’s worth mentioning that this season of Cineprobe (its sixth) was the first to be partially funded by the National Endowment for the Arts. Cineprobe, while including artists and filmmakers who were backed by prestigious and well-funded institutions, stressed the importance of showing films from the underrepresented and underfunded as well as the more conventional. The Middle (1973-1983) A desire to mix the well-known and the unknown was evident in the first Cineprobe in the fall of 1973, where Marguerite Duras presented her film La Femme du Gange (Woman of the Ganges), Duras’ first film in color. 79 However, in the following season we see a dramatic shift back to the independent filmmaker, featuring Native Land, co-directed by Paul Strand and Leo Hurwitz was a film that was three years in the making and included the contributions of over 76 Museum of Modern Art, Museum Will Introduce Underground Cartoon, 1972. 77 Ibid. 78 Ibid. 79 The release further states, “Starring Catherine Sellers, Dionys Mascolo, Nicole Hiss and Gerard Depardieu, it was filmed in a seaside resort in Normandy at the end of the summer when the town is almost deserted. According to Richard Roud, who will introduce Mme. Duras, the story is one that constantly evokes the past. Various elements — deserted hotel corridors, a young couple observing and commenting on the action, two autonomous voices heard at moments throughout the film like a kind of ‘obligato’ counterpoint — ‘have been forged together by Mme. Duras into a whole, into a film,’ Mr. Roud states. ‘Someone once said “A poem should not mean, but be”; here is a film which does not mean but is.’” 28 5,000 individuals. Native Land was not funded by a major studio but received great praise. According to the press release: “‘In matter and treatment, ‘Native Land’ is a sensational and revolutionary film…‘Native Land’ creates a shattering emotional effect.’ Bosley Crowther of The New York Times called it ‘one of the most powerful and disturbing documentary films ever made.’” 80 In addition, the documentary Let the Church Say Amen! directed by the then 30-year-old St. Clair Bourne was shown in January of 1974 as part of the same season. Similar to the hybrid documentaries which have been mentioned before, Let the Church Say Amen! used non-actors and did not have a script. The film follows “a young Black seminarian who confronts newly emerging "Black" interpretations of Christian theology as he travels to new assignments after completing his studies at the Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta. He investigates two Black churches, one in the rural town of Mound Bayou, Mississippi, and the other in Chicago, and the ministers and congregations of each are presented through the young seminarian's eyes.” 81 Let the Church Say Amen! was funded by a group of black churchman, and received the Bronze Medal at the International Film and Television Festival of New York. 82 Despite the two above films being radically different in content, both share the commonality of using alternative funding methods and being recognized in mainstream forums. In 1976, we see another shift in the focus of the Cineprobe series. Diary, journal, and unconventional narratives had been included previously, 83 but had not yet been thoughtfully included in a season. Cineprobe provided examples of diary films such as “Jonas Mekas' ‘Lost Lost Lost’ dating from 1949-1963; Chantal Akerman's semi-fictional, semi-documentary three- 80 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe Begins Seventh Season As Forum for Independent Fiommakers, 1974. 81 Museum of Modern Art, Museum to Present Documentary on the Contemporary Black Church, 1974. 82 Ibid. 83 In 1971, Andrew Noren’s diary films were shown in a Cineprobe series. 29 hour study of a day in the life of a Belgian housewife, played by Delphine Seyrig, and Ron Taylor's three-and-a-half-hour autobiography of growing up in North Carolina, ‘Suckalo.’” 84 The following season included the diary films of Peter Hutton, which depicted black and white meditations of rivers and New York roof tops, and Yvonne Rainer’s third film Kristina Talking Pictures, “a loose narrative with a touching refrain upon the disparity between public appearance, private will and fate.” 85 The diary film appears again in 1984 with Holly Fisher’s short, non-narrative works, in 1986 with the inclusion of Abraham Ravett’s Thirty Years Later, a film about the “impact of the Holocaust on the filmmaker's parents, and how it affected their relationship to him,” 86 and Jonas Mekas He Stands in a Desert Counting the Seconds of his Life. The diary films last most notable appearance is in 1990 with Fred Marx’s Dreams of China (1989), which depicts his experiences while living in China for two years and Mark Street’s January Journal of 1985. As time passed, diary films were consistently included as independent filmmakers continued to submit more and more work to Cineprobe. In 1977, now curator Adrienne Mancia acknowledged the overwhelming amount of submissions and found that “more consistent viewing like Cineprobe is needed.” 87 By 1981, Cineprobe had “hosted over 200 filmmakers from America and elsewhere, exhibiting a wide range of work in the vanguard of film and introducing New York audiences to the filmmakers' own perceptions and analyses of their creations and their goals.” 88 The fourteenth season opened with Tunisian director Marcel Hanoun’s 1979 film La Nuit Claire, which utilized “strong imagery and little dialogue in his lyrical, non-narrative piece, based on the 84 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe Begins Ninth Unusual Season, 1976. 85 Museum of Modern Art, Museum Showcase for Independents Cineprobe Now Marks Tenth Year, October 17, 1977. 86 Museum of Modern Art, Cineprobe Opens Nineteenth Season at MoMA, September 1986. 87 Museum of Modern Art, Museum Showcase for Independents Cineprobe Now Marks Tenth Year, October 17, 1977. 88 Museum of Modern Art, 14 th Consecutive Season of Independent Film Opens October 19 th , October 28 th , 1981. 30 Orpheus/Eurydice myth.” 89 The season closed with the screening of two films by Mikhail Bogin, an emigré from the former U.S.S.R.: A Ballad of Love, a.k.a. Two, and A Private Life. Cineprobe’s fourteenth season ended early due to the construction of the Roy and Niuta Titus Theater II, which is still in use today. A dearth of information appears at this point in time as the structure of the press releases changes from descriptive to only naming the filmmaker, their location, and occasional boilerplate. Since Cineprobe was very established by the 1980s and under the purview of a different curator (Adrienne Mancia), this may explain the change, as it appears the releases underwent a re-design. The next remarkable screening occurs in 1984, early on in the seventeenth season with a screening of Morris Engel and Ruth Orkin’s Little Fugitive (1953). This film was one of the first independent films to “break out of the art-house circuit and win a wide audience.” 90 Even François Truffaut acknowledged the importance of Little Fugitive, stating that the New Wave never would have come into being if Morris Engel and Ruth Orkin had not created this film. 91 The film was even nominated for an Oscar and a Silver Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Aside from this film, the rest of the season is filled with contemporary programs all created in 1983 or 1984, including Tourist (1984) by Barbara Hammer, Red Shift (1983) by Gunvor Nelson, and It Don’t Pay to Be an Honest Citizen (1984) by Jacob Burkhardt. Cineprobe in its nascence and as it became established maintained a level of heteronomy and hybridization in its form. To have a film from the 1950s and contemporary films in the same season was in keeping with this precedent. The End: 1985-1994 89 Ibid. 90 Museum of Modern Art, Morris Engel and Ruth Orkin, Pioneer Independent Filmmakers, To Attend Special Cineprobe Evening November 30, November 1984. 91 Ibid. 31 As we approach the end of the documentation on Cineprobe from the Museum of Modern Art’s online archive, the lack of institutional history becomes apparent. Aside from Adrienne Mancia, associate curator Larry Kardish who had been working on programming the series since 1969, and curatorial assistant Jytte Jensen who appears to have first started working with Mancia and Kardish in 1984, it is not known who contributed to Cineprobe or how. MoMA’s archive continues to document Cineprobe events until 1996, but an exact end date is not specified. Section 2: Anthology Film Archives When I initially conceived of this thesis and considered the use of Anthology Film Archives Essential Cinema series as an example of content access, I was under the impression that I would be able to use Anthology’s archives to support my points. 92 However, I soon found out that Anthology would be closed for 2019 and 2020 and, ironically, despite my attempts I was unable to access their archives. Therefore, this section draws on existing written work and secondary sources on Anthology and the Essential Cinema series. Ultimately, however, I still aim to investigate Anthology’s commitment to access as thoroughly as possible. Luckily, the notion of access in terms of Anthology Film Archives has been explored previously. In her essay, “Access and The Experimental Film: New Technologies and Anthology Film Archives' Institutionalization of the Avant-Garde,” Kristen Alfaro states that “today Anthology is an example of open archival access, which reflects a history long predicated on increased access to experimental film.” 93 Using the definition of access previously described, this section will focus on analyzing how and if Anthology’s Essential Cinema series aligns with Alfaro’s statement. 92 Referred to as Anthology from this point on. 93 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 45. 32 After describing the roots of Anthology and how it came to be, I will examine audience, ticket prices, and Anthology’s ties with educational institutions. I will then turn to Anthology’s process of selecting what was in the Essential Cinema collection. Finally, I will discuss the importance of the library and film study center as a complement to the Essential Cinema series. To emphasize the significance of an institution such as Anthology which is so tied to academia, 94 a history of Jonas Mekas’ activities in New York during the sixties is requisite. Kristen Alfaro locates Anthology’s beginnings in the 1960s, “when experimental film access was scarce and geographically specific, thriving most prominently in New York and San Francisco, where its viewers relied heavily on word-of-mouth domestic viewings, membership screenings, and alternative public spaces.” 95 The early sixties marked a period in which the underground began to receive publicity because of “certain people… taking up the cause of the personal art film” 96 and others, such as critic Manny Farber’s response to screenings. Prior to Jonas Mekas’ intervention, Amos Vogel’s Cinema 16 was the primary experimental and independent film venue of the New York area” 97 from 1947 to 1963. In 1960, Vogel refused to screen Stan Brakhage’s Anticipation of the Night, which only added to the growing criticism of his programming choices. 98 This kind of perceived censorship is exactly what led Jonas Mekas along with other filmmakers such as Peter Bogdanovich, Robert Frank, Alfred Leslie, Stan Brakhage, Adolfas Mekas, Shirley Clarke and Gregory Markopoulos to publish “The First Statement of the New 94 Wielgus, “You Had to Have Been There,” 234. 95 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 44. 96 Sheldon Renan, An Introduction to the American Underground Film (New York: Dutton, 1967), 102. 97 Ibid, 48. 98 Ibid. 33 American Cinema Group” in Mekas’ periodical Film Culture in 1962. 99 The manifesto outlined the beliefs of the collective, which included a repudiation of censorship laws, the imposition of barriers to distribution, and the assumption that the quality of a film can be determined by its budget. Out of this initial group grew the Filmmaker’s Cooperative, a film distribution organization run by the filmmakers themselves. At this time Jonas Mekas partnered with Jerome Hill, a future funding source for Anthology, to fund a Filmmaker’s Grant program, which provided $40 per month for a year to twelve needy filmmakers selected by Mekas. 100 This same year, the Filmmaker’s Cooperative released a catalogue containing works such as Mekas’ Guns of the Trees, Robert Frank and Alfred Leslie’s Pull My Daisy, and the films of Gregory Markopoulos. The Filmmaker’s Cooperative prospered; over a period of five years its membership grew from 20 artists to 234. Despite this, it wasn’t all good. Bureaucratic struggles led to a questioning among members of the politics and policies of the Cooperative. Jack Smith and Jonas Mekas were engaged in a conflict over the profits from Smith’s Flaming Creatures after it had undergone a protracted censorship battle in 1964. 101 Further, Mekas founded The Filmmaker’s Distribution Center (FDC) in 1967, a separate but interconnected venture that over time became more and more of a financial burden. 102 But Mekas continued as a force, perhaps as “the center of things” 103 to some, but not others. With the Filmmaker’s Cooperative and Film Culture established, a screening venue was the logical next step for Mekas. In 1962, Mekas began his first screening series, the Filmmaker’s 99 Various dates exist for the date of this meeting and the date of publication. Surely, on September, 28 th , 1960 a meeting took place. P. Adams Sitney states that the manifesto was published in the Summer of 1961, but the statement itself says September, 30th, 1962. 100 Jonas Mekas, “A Few Notes,” 7. 101 Wielgus, “You Had to Have Been There,” 38. 102 Referred to as the FDC from this point on. 103 P. Adams Sitney, Visionary film: the American avant-garde, 1943-2000 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 329. 34 Showcase, which took place at the Charles Theater on the lower east side to “showcase underground works no one else would run.” 104 Two years later, the next iteration of Mekas’ screening series, the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque, began showing works from members of the Cooperative and of other strands of cinema both international and national.” 105 The Filmmaker’s Cinematheque, which ran until 1969, never had stability–– it was itinerant, moving through eighteen different venues. However, despite its itinerancy, the Cinematheque was a platform which gave rise to a place where members of a community come together “to exchange ideas,” generating “new intellectual frameworks and new social networks.” 106 This was not Mekas preference according to what is officially published on Anthology’s website, which states that he “dreamed of establishing a permanent home where the growing number of new independent/avant-garde films could be shown on a regular basis. It was 1970, following Mekas’ account, Anthology was a little seed of hope that lifted him up from the despair and financial turmoil of the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque and the FDC. 107 Mekas claimed he had started raising money for the endeavor two years prior and now had enough money to open the space in December of 1970. Perhaps this was a retroactively crafted story for the public, or perhaps it was the way Mekas really saw the situation, but, like many things, it was not as black and white a situation as it was made out to be. In her book Points of Resistance: Women, Power and Politics in the New York Avant- 104 Sheldon Renan, An Introduction to the American Underground Film (New York: Dutton, 1967), 214. From Mark Benedetti, “David James indicates that Mekas began screenings at the Charles in 1960 (99), but most sources (including Mekas’s own listing of screening showcases he operated) list 1961 as his first year at the Charles. Regardless of the historical details, the important point here is that Mekas’s screenings were not yet formally underwritten by the NAC or any of its organs—the Charles was in fact a commercial theater offering an “eclectic program” of unusual films (Hoberman and Rosenbaum 41).” 105 Wielgus, “You Had to Have Been There,” 38. 106 Ibid., 39. 35 Garde Cinema 1943-1971, Lauren Rabinovitz provides Shirley Clarke’s perspective on this period of time. While the FDC was in a dire financial state due to a number of distribution losses (among other things), Clarke asked Mekas for more time to turn it around. However, Mekas refused, afraid that the cooperative would be taken down as well. After the closure, Clarke found out about Anthology and about her total exclusion from the project in the newspaper. Clarke attempted to talk about this with Mekas, but “he simply told her she did not understand the project.” 108 This leads us to wonder about other claims, such as that of Mekas and Brakhage that Amos Vogel of Cinema 16 was attempting to censor Brakhage’s work. When we take Amos Vogel’s perspective into account, the situation becomes even more complicated. Amos Vogel encapsulates Mekas’ duplicity as “there are really two Jonases—one very dedicated, the other a Machiavellian maneuverer, a history rewriter, an attempted pope.” 109 To many, Jonas Mekas has become nearly mythological, and his narrativization of the story of Anthology has come to be taken as fact, when it is in reality one account among many. Rabinovitz paints another picture of Mekas as a melodramatic individual who plays the martyr when it suits him. It cannot be ignored that key figures such as Shirley Clarke, who started the New American Cinema Group and the Filmmaker’s Cooperative with Mekas are excluded entirely from Anthology’s pre-history. The following pages which recount what happened can then be framed as a reading of what happened according to Jonas Mekas, as interpreted by Kristen Alfaro and others, reframed by me. In 1967 Mekas’ dreams of a permanent space for the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque began to manifest; with the financial support of Jerome Hill, the ground floor of 80 Wooster Street was purchased as a site for the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque, and in 1968 the Film Art Fund (another 108 Lauren Rabinovitz, Points of Resistance: Women, Power & Politics in the New York Avant-Garde Cinema 1943- 71. 2nd ed. (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003) 140. 109 Ibid., 141. 36 of Mekas’ many organizations) rented Joseph Papp’s Public Theater on 425 Lafayette Street. Concurrently, a burgeoning discomfort with the open and democratic policies of the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque began to emerge from P. Adams Sitney, Stan Brakhage, and Peter Kubelka. 110 With this in mind, Mekas recruited the group to begin formulating a new but complementary space to the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque which would have a pedogogical approach to film as an art. For a number of years, the 80 Wooster Street location was referred to as Cinematheque 1 and the 425 Lafayette Street location Cinematheque 2. Cinematheque 1 was dedicated to screenings, and Cinematheque 2 was the space in which the Essential Cinema collection was being formulated. 111 This was derailed slightly by the forced closure of the 80 Wooster Street location due to Mekas failure to license the space in 1968. 112 As stated previously, the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque ceased screenings in this year and Mekas focused on the development of Cinematheque 2, or what would be Anthology, at 425 Lafayette Street. Anthology would stay at this location until 1973, when Anthology’s financial situation was impacted by the death of Jerome Hill, the project’s major funding source. The Avon Foundation, Hill’s foundation, had paid for the acquisition of prints, the fabrication and maintenance of the Invisible Cinema theater, and the general day to day expenses of running the space. With the death of Hill, all funding was cut off. Anthology moved back to 80 Wooster Street, then to 491 Broadway, and finally ended up in Manhattan’s Second Avenue Courthouse in 1979. The Invisible Cinema 110 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 51. 111 Ibid., 52 112 Jonas Mekas expressed a great deal of anger over the loss of the 80 Wooster Street, writing in his Village Voice column in 1969, “The Cinematheque is still closed. The New York police still hold two screens, two projectors, one totally innocent film by Andy Warhol, and one totally innocent film by Jack Smith (not Flaming Creatures) that they seized almost four years ago and, mind, there was never a charge against these two films. But to get it all back from the police, the Cinematheque would have to sue the police and we have figured out that it would cost us more to sue the police than to buy two new projectors, two new screens, and to make two brand new films. That's justice for you. Fuck New York justice." From Movie Journal: The Rise of the New American Cinema, 1959-1971 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2016), 337. 37 theater did not make it to the courthouse, and the Essential Cinema Repertory was put on hold, leaving it as unfinished today as it was then. 113 For years Mekas had worked at odds with “the system,” by creating separate spaces and organizations which attempted to resist the mainstream. However, when founding Anthology, Mekas chose to go through proper legal channels, something he had not done in the past. 114 While supported generously by Jerome Hill, Anthology aimed to function as a nonprivate and not for profit space that would “file taxes; accept donations; and apply for private, state, and federal grants.” 115 Perhaps it was frustration, or a sense of exhaustion of trying to slip between the cracks only to inevitably be caught by the police or by bureaucratic entities, or maybe Mekas saw Anthology as an institution, a legitimate and professional venture that was different from his previous activities. This is certainly supported by the fact that P. Adams Sitney, one of the critics of the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque’s “lack of rigor” was appointed as Anthology’s first acting director in 1969. Anthology further differentiated itself from the Cinematheque; it would not be a place open for happenings and amateur screenings, Anthology “was more polished, positioning itself as institution of film art, preservation, and professionalization.” 116 Anthology separated itself from other institutions for being the first of its kind: a museum dedicated to the study, exhibition, and preservation of film as an art. Anthology stated that its aim “was to define its study and exhibition through the development of a canon (Essential Cinema) and a theater (Invisible Cinema).” 117 While the Invisible Cinema only remained open for the first three years Anthology was open (1970-1973), the Essential Cinema repertory 113 “About/Overview,” Anthology Film Archives, http://anthologyfilmarchives.org/about/about. 114 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 51. 115 Ibid. 116 Wielgus, “You Had to Have Been There,” 74. 117 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 46. 38 continues to this day, despite being an unfinished project. Anthology opened its doors in 1970, two years after Cineprobe had begun. Correspondence between Larry Kardish and Jonas Mekas exists, but it is unclear how Mekas felt towards the program which had begun just as the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque ended. The same year that Anthology opened, Mekas did a program with Cineprobe on June 23rd. In the months leading up to the opening of Anthology, Mekas had been promoting it as “a permanent home where the classic works of film could be shown on a regular basis.” 118 The promotion goes on to describe how the group responsible for Anthology (Jerome Hill, P. Adams Sitney, Peter Kubelka, Stan Brakhage, and Mekas himself) conceived of a museum “to be called Anthology Film Archives.” 119 To establish a collection for this museum of “the monuments of cinematic art,” 120 a committee consisting of James Broughton, Ken Kelman, Peter Kubelka, Jonas Mekas, and P. Adams Sitney would select works which would be in the Essential Cinema collection. The method of selection, and the museum itself, contrasting with Mekas’ other ventures, would be “critical and discriminatory.” 121 It is these last two words, “critical and discriminatory” which decidedly distance Anthology from the goals of the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque. Rather than being a democratic, perhaps overly-accepting, space that would screen whatever was available, Anthology would have an aesthetic criterion for what was acceptable or not. The power to make decisions around what would be included in the Essential Cinema collection was placed in the hands of five men. Kristen Alfaro combats the way Anthology is depicted as a “dictatorship” of taste by 118 David E. James, To Free the Cinema: Jonas Mekas & the New York Underground (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1992), 12. 119 Ibid. 120 Ibid. 121 Ibid. 39 focusing on the archived documents, which, to her, tell a different story. 122 “Legal documents,” Alfaro writes, “show how Anthology’s goals and activities focused on public access to the experimental film and, in fact, were largely inclusive of films outside the Essential Cinema canon.” 123 Since evidence of this is not readily available, it’s difficult to determine just how inclusive Anthology was and what focusing on public access meant. Alfaro goes on to describe how Mekas’ letters to lawyer Allan Masur illustrate that Mekas was trying to overcome severe financial limitations which made difficult the growth of the Essential Cinema and the maintenance of the Invisible Cinema and still allow the Film Study Center and the Library to develop. Alfaro states that “the primary goal remained access, and through access, Anthology developed goals of preservation and pedagogy. For Anthology, access to avant-garde film history included access to journals, periodicals, paper materials, audio, still photographs, and paper ephemera.” 124 This last statement is corroborated by Robert Haller, director of Anthology in 1996, who stated that “Anthology was created out of a desire to construct the cinematic equivalent of a public library and a research institution. It was designed to regularly present to the public a repertory collection of about 400 films from the whole history of cinema, an artistic and historic canon that would illuminate the growth and evolution of the art of cinema. Additionally, Anthology was to collect all of the significant literature about avant-garde cinema, and publish documents, catalogs, and the results of historical research sponsored by Anthology.” 125 While on the one hand the Film Selection Committee 126 exercised a vast control 122 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 56. 123 Ibid. 124 Ibid. 125 Robert Haller, “Anthology Film Archives,” Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, Vol. 16, No. 1, 1996, 89. 126 The committee consisted of James Broughton, Ken Kelman, Peter Kubelka, Jonas Mekas, and P. Adams Sitney. Stan Brakhage was an original member of the committee but left when making selections unanimously became difficult. 40 over the formation of the Essential Cinema, a cornerstone of the museum itself, these statements from Alfaro and Haller suggest that the mission of the space changed over time to become more access-centric. Prior to the death of Jerome Hill which halted the development of Essential Cinema collection to this day, 145 items in the collection were dutifully catalogued and organized for the film study room. 127 However, in total, the collection consists of 110 programs and 330 titles which were assembled between 1970-1975 by the Film Selection Committee. In its initial conception, the films in the Essential Cinema collection would be viewed in the Invisible Cinema in cycles of six weeks. The Invisible Cinema was designed by Peter Kubelka and built in the 425 Lafayette Street location. The space was meant to function as Anthology’s “ideal” theater for viewing film art. Each audience member was separated by those next to them not only by a seat but by two panels on either side which were meant to obscure peripheral vision and hearing, as well as being positioned very intentionally to sit “upright, looking slightly up.” 128 All of these decisions were made to give the viewer an uninterrupted experience of the film. A house manager also sat in the audience and was “responsible for ensuring ideal projection and implementing the appropriate film theater etiquette of silence and respectful behavior.” 129 Initial response to the Invisible Cinema was mostly positive 130 and hosted fourteen thousand visitors in the first year that Anthology was open. However, within two years, the price of a ticket to view a film in the Invisible Cinema was raised from $1 to $2 (equivalent to a hike from $6.63 to $13.27 127 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 54. 128 Peter Kubelka in “Invisible Cinema: Interview with Peter Kubelka,” Design Quarterly 93 (1974): 34. 129 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 53. 130 In an interview, Peter Kubelka stated “Response to the Invisible Cinema was, by the majority of the people who came, overwhelmingly positive. Of course, it took some people a while to get acquainted with its conditions but this is a problem of all new concepts. There is nothing really radical in this project, this is a normal cinema. This cinema is as normal as a camera or a projector,” Peter Kubelka in “Invisible Cinema: Interview with Peter Kubelka,” Design Quarterly 93 (1974): 35. 41 with inflation adjusted), and the audience attendance dropped considerably. Mekas mourned this decision, saying it caused them to lose “a good part of our most faithful audience,” and made Anthology start to resemble “another shark, capitalist etc. etc. ‘art’ organization.” 131 He went on to say that this decision was a sign Anthology had “abandoned one of the principles which we set for ourselves at the very beginning, during our first meetings: to keep our entrance ticket price minimum so that not to keep away from the true film lover, the film student, who very often cannot afford higher prices.” 132 After these key audience members stopped attending screenings, Anthology reversed its decision and the ticket price returned to what it originally was. In her essay, Alfaro uses this excerpt from the letter with Mekas’ lawyer as evidence that “access equaled a democratized view of avant-garde film exhibition, opposing the hierarchical implications of a canon. Mekas, though invested in cultural capital, decried monetary gains at the behest of Anthology’s board, retaining the spirit of the former decade within Anthology’s more formal, institutional framework.” 133 However, if this was true, wouldn’t Anthology have not implemented the ticket price increase in the first place? Or, if it was really necessary that a change occur, why not cut something else prior? What this excerpt is evidence of is that the financial decisions at Anthology were not made by Mekas, or else he would not have made a complaint in the first place. Perhaps we see also the “institution” working against Mekas’ intentions as a result of bureaucracy and a necessity to allocate funds in a particular way. Alfaro’s assertions above reveal to me that exact implementations of access were not clear in Anthology’s activities. Further, content access was not necessarily a goal or an accomplished 131 Jonas Mekas, letter to Allan A. Masur, February 24, 1972, JMPA. In Kristen Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film: New Technologies and Anthology Film Archives’ Institutionalizations of the Avant-Garde,” The Moving Image 12, no. 1 (Spring 2012), 53. 132 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 52. 133 Ibid. 42 feat of Anthology as it was for Cineprobe. Since the Invisible Cinema only lasted for the first three years of Anthology’s life, prior to the death of Jerome Hill and the move(s) which occurred as a result, its relationship to the Essential Cinema series also ceased to exist. But for these first three years, the two were intertwined and implemented in tandem. As we will discover in the following dissection of access vis à vis the Essential Cinema collection, it has been heavily criticized for both its inclusions and exclusions. According the Jonas Mekas, “the Essential Cinema Repertory, from its very inception, was strongly and sometimes wildly attacked by those who were not familiar with the history of the project for exclusion of many important films. They were not aware of the fact that the Essential Cinema Repertory was intended to serve as a permanent critical tool with new titles continuously added including possibly the titles that the critics of Anthology had in mind.” 134 It is consistently emphasized that the Essential Cinema collection is “unfinished” but after fifty years, is it still accurate to claim that it is meant to be a critical tool that is updated continuously? Further, as a program that was developed by the same proponents who complained of the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque’s “democratic system of programming,” how exactly is the Essential Cinema collection representative of an access-based framework? A. Collection Selection The forefathers, one could say, of the Essential Cinema collection, James Broughton, Ken Kelman, Kubelka, Jonas Mekas, and P. Adams Sitney (and briefly Stan Brakhage), developed it from 1970 to 1973 as the Film Selection Committee. By 1975 they had established a canon that allowed Anthology to screen roughly one hundred different programs in a cycle, creating a 134 “About/Essential Cinema,” Anthology Film Archives, anthologyfilmarchives.org/about/essential-cinema. 43 periodic viewing schedule for the dedicated cinephile. 135 Today, this “canon” remains the same. Concerned with the aesthetic experience of the high art of film, Anthology framed itself as being “philosophically oriented toward the pure film, and it takes its stand against the standards of contemporary film criticism.” 136 Of the Essential Cinema collection, “Wholeness and unity were criteria for the films included.” 137 The committee, according to Sitney, while diverging greatly in matters of taste and sensibility, all shared a common vision that film as an art emerges when artists are “most free.” 138 The selection process worked like this. Members of the committee would select works on their own. Together, as a group, the selections would be viewed, debated, and a voted would be taken. The prints of selected films would be acquired using funding provided by Jerome Hill. The Committee foresaw this process happening annually, with older films gradually being included as more research was conducted. Clearly this never came to be, and the Essential Cinema collection lives on in its state of incompletion. Due to the claims of essentialism and focus on purity, the task at hand for the Film Selection committee in 1970 was, at the very least, bound for criticism. To attempt a definitive canonization of the history of film art is difficult enough, but when it is decided among five men who each have their own tastes and biases that they bring to the table, the task becomes impossible. Michele Pierson, capturing the bulk of the criticisms, stating that “the Essential Cinema series’ representation of avant-garde filmmakers would come to be seen by film critics and historians as egregious in the extreme in its ‘incompleteness’ (including films made by just five women 139 and only four American avant-garde films made before 1945).” 140 Incompleteness 135 Wielgus, “You Had to Have Been There,” 88. 136 P. Adams Sitney, The Essential Cinema,, xi. 137 Ibid. 138 Ibid. 139 The women included are Maya Deren, Leni Riefenstahl, Marie Menken, Helen Levitt, and Janice Loeb. 140 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 20. 44 as a criticism is justifiably levied when considering these exclusions, but the Film Selection Committee, as Sitney points out “does not purport to represent the full spectrum of film criticism.” 141 When we further consider that these exclusions were anticipated to be rectified as time passed and the collection grew, we can see at the time that Anthology, like Cineprobe, was engaged in the “critical, historiographical enterprise of situating the work of postwar American avant-garde filmmakers within the history of film art internationally, making the claim for its artistic importance through representation alongside that of more widely recognized filmmakers.” 142 It was the death of Jerome Hill and the cessation of funding, which had been critical, that prevented the project from blossoming fully. The resulting selection of films in the collection, interestingly, “reproduced, in capsule form, MoMA’s own collection.” 143 Whether this was informed by the use of the library in the film education of these men, or by mere coincidence, it is difficult to say. In hindsight, it is perplexing why the Film Selection Committee did not think to look at another institution dedicated to the study of film as an art. Perhaps MoMA did not come to mind as an institution dedicated to such an endeavor, but creating a space for films to be viewed, circulated, and collected was the expressed intent of Iris Barry, who has been previously discussed in this thesis. Prior to her intervention, in 1935 “there were virtually no means in existence anywhere of seeing any films other than those in current distribution by commercial theaters.” 144 From her response to Maya Deren, we can guess that Barry was clearly not invested in the works of the first film avant-garde of the 1920’s or any other underground or experimental works succeeding this time period, she was invested in acquiring films she considered to be worth studying, and to make 141 P. Adams Sitney, The Essential Cinema,xi. 142 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 20. 143 Ibid. 144 AHB, XIV.B. MoMA Archives, NY. 45 these films accessible to educational institutions for study. Aside from the content, of which there is still overlap, the intent remains the same: create a space dedicated to the preservation, study, and exhibition of film. Indeed, Anthology’s institutional ties were many. As with Cineprobe, Anthology’s core audience was found in classrooms. B. Audience Access Anthology’s ties to educational institutions has been both lauded and criticized but it remains that this relationship is responsible for the development of an audience that consists mainly of students. This development was due to a number of factors. First, Sitney and critic Annette Michelson, who also served on Anthology’s board, both taught at New York University in the Cinema Studies Department. Mekas and Sitney were also contacted by other film educators to provide screenings to students. 145 In 1972, a seminar on New American Cinema was held weekly in one of Anthology’s conference rooms. As early as 1978, however, criticism was already mounting against Anthology’s ties with institutions such as NYU, the Whitney Museum, where P. Adams Sitney was a frequent lecturer at the invitation of Annette Michelson, an ongoing instructor/mentor, and MoMA. Professors Janet Bergstrom and Constance Penley found Anthology’s ties to the above institutions to suggest a level of institutional bias. 146 They also found that these institutional connections “cloud film art programming” due to the undefined parameters of the Essential Cinema canon. 147 Following Kristen Alfaro, the Whitney Museum and MoMA “collected and programmed experimental films belonging to the Essential Cinema canon.” 148 However, MoMA, as has been evidenced by Cineprobe, was already screening films that were later categorized as belonging to the Essential Cinema collection. If Alfaro means that 145 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 54. 146 Ibid. 147 Ibid. 148 Ibid. 46 physical prints were being loaned from Anthology to MoMA, that is a different story, but it is unclear if such an exchange existed. It can also be said that targeting such a specific audience (one of students) so intentionally closes off the possibility of reaching out to more general and heterogenous audiences. This was clearly not Anthology’s intent, but a mission of access does not mean access to some. What information is available about Anthology’s attendees of the Essential Cinema screenings in the early 1970s points to an audience of students. At their first screening in 1970, of Alexander Dovzhenko’s Ivan (1932), a New York Times film critic asked audience members for their response. He received responses from “two artists, someone studying film at the School of Visual Arts, a student at New York University, a graduate of New York University with a master’s degree in film, and ‘[a]nother youth, who declined identification.’” 149 Audiences of students reinforced Anthology’s educational mission. Also, as Mekas described earlier, affordable ticket prices were a “principle” from the very first meetings so that the “true film lover, the film student” would not be excluded. If we take a look at how much ticket prices were in 1970, when Anthology first opened, the argument that affordable ticket prices were integral becomes more complicated. While the price of one screening was below the average commercial theater ticket price at $1 (movie theaters charged $1.55 at the time), this was just for one screening. Once the program began, no one was allowed to enter the theater. There were usually three screenings for the whole evening, so it was $3 for the entire night. The present-day equivalent cost is $6.62 per screening and $19.85 for one evening. An hour before each screening, the tickets would go on sale, but there is no indication of how much. The individual ticket prices are reasonable, but sticking around for a 149 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 10. 47 full night’s program was more cost-prohibitive. In addition, only half of the seats in the theater were available for the “on sale” ticket price, since forty-five of the ninety seats in the Invisible Theater were reserved for advanced reservations. The likelihood that one could get one of these forty-five on-sale tickets an hour before the screening started was therefore not high. Situating this in the context of the Invisible Cinema, however, we know that ticket prices were more expensive in this context due to the required maintenance of the theater. While there is no evidence without access to the archive to support this, it’s possible that once Anthology settled in its current location in 1978, ticket prices were lower. In any case, a shift certainly took place in Anthology when it the Invisible Cinema closed. At its next location, back at 80 Wooster Street, sited at a Fluxus cooperative, Anthology became a venue for expanded cinema and other types of performance.” 150 Despite Anthology being a space that was not accessible to all members of the general public and the Essential Cinema collection as a series that was parochially selected, films that had no prior viewing platform were being displayed. Annette Michelson wrote that “the existence of Anthology is a radical critical gesture” in itself which “made accessible a corpus of advanced filmic art set in a rich, if incomplete context, and in projection conditions—those of an ‘Invisible Cinema’—superior to those of any institution in this city.” 151 While not an unbiased subject, Michelson’s support was based in the belief that Anthology, the Invisible Cinema, and the Essential Cinema collection were needed in order to make space for content which previously had not had a dedicated site of appreciation. Of the underground film scene in general, but of Anthology in particular, “the major audience for their film is found in colleges and universities, hundreds of which now offer credit courses in film history or technique, and fifty-one of which 150 Ibid., 21. 151 Ibid., 16. 48 offer degrees in film.” 152 Sitney and Mekas jumped on this opportunity, utilizing the exchange to their fiscal advantage. Michael Zyrd, who has written on the connection between the avant-garde and academia “argues that the relationship between higher education and the experimental film is one of sustenance and reciprocity; one aided in the development of the other. The university ensured filmmakers employment, the payment of a stipend or lecture, and consistent rentals for Filmmakers’ Coop and Canyon Cinema.” 153 The lifeblood of Anthology was the support of educational institutions; in return its audience depended on it. In the conversation about Cineprobe, curators Mancia and Kardish would give each filmmaker money for transportation, lodging, food, and an additional honorarium. From the information available to me, it does not appear that Anthology brought the filmmakers to the Essential Cinema collection screenings, as they were repeated in cycles. But the format of screenings did occur as a “one-person show” that was often programmed by the filmmaker themselves. 154 It is also not clear whether or not the filmmakers were compensated at all for their inclusion in the collection or the screenings, but their participation may have been on a non- profit basis, simply for the educational value of having their work seen. 155 Further, the fact that filmmakers were not present during screenings may have worked in Essential Cinema’s favor for attracting audiences, since, as Chuck Kleinhans believes, the inclusion of filmmakers into a program to discuss, explain, and examine their work might not have been appealing to newcomers. 156 Such discursive procedures could have potentially allowed for work to be contextualized for viewers outside of Anthology’s predictable audience. 152 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 55. 153 Ibid. 154 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 17. 155 This is how acquisitions to MoMA’s film library used to function. As Sheldon Renan states, “The first extensive distribution of avant-garde films, by the Museum of Modern Art, was a nonprofit endeavor, with no return going to the original film-makers,” An Introduction to the American Underground Film, 218. 156 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 17. 49 C. Discursive Protocols As stated in the introduction, discursive protocols are the supplements to a program which make it meaningful to viewers and allow them to negotiate their own response to the work. Anthology has always identified itself as a didactic institution, for better or for worse, from its inception to present day. 157 This pedagogical vein was integral to the mission of Anthology. It was intended to be a learning space. As an institution it intended to allow for learning to occur through “lectures, conferences, private film study, programming, and the physical experience of the theater.” 158 Originally, the experience of the theater would occur in the Invisible Cinema through the Essential Cinema. Despite not having a filmmaker present to discuss their work at screenings of the Essential Cinema collection, Anthology intended to make a meaningful interaction possible through other means. One of these tools is The Essential Cinema: Essays on the Films in the Collection of Anthology Film Archives by P. Adams Sitney, an anthology of essays intended to provide contextual and historical information on films in Anthology’s collection. It was intended to be a periodical, updated most likely as the collection itself was updated. However, like many of Anthology’s aspirational projects, it was never realized. The text begins with an introduction by Sitney stating the selection process, manifesto, and biographical information of the Film Selection Committee. A list of the final selections made by the committee, the Essential Cinema collection as of 1975, follows. It is succeeded by essays in more or less chronological order starting with D.W. Griffith’s Intolerance (1916) and ending with Bruce Conner’s Report (1965). The text pulls excerpts from other authors who have written about the film and includes interpretations of thematic content and technical aspects of the films. While Sitney remains 157 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 55. 158 Ibid. 50 prescriptive in his interpretations, he does provide a guide from which his audience can choose to agree or disagree. Aside from this one text, Anthology contains a library of other relevant texts, numbering 7,000 vertical files and 350 periodicals as of 1996. As it was modeled to exemplify a cinematic equivalent of a public library and a research institution, these holdings add to a citational (and therefore discursive) supplement of knowledge available for audience members. Anthology’s library and archive can be viewed as discursive protocols in their own right since they are in situ and consequently in dialogue with whatever film is being screened. In some cases, Anthology’s library and archive serve as a mediation between the subject and the film, allowing scholars, visitors, and audience members to trace cinematic “traditions, sources, and influences.” 159 Tracing these elements allows the potential audience member to interact with the film differently over time, and to approach the experience with more expertise or awareness perhaps. This is the main benefit of the Essential Cinema collection: repeated viewing is built into its structure, allowing viewers to revisit works and to have consistent and sustained engagement with works. While the difficulty of viewing, understanding, and interpreting certain works in the Essential Cinema collection remains–– take Stan Brakhage’s Dog Star Man or even Bruce Conner’s A Movie––Anthology’s Essential Cinema collection is supplemented by didactic but descriptive material to allow the viewer to understand a work through a textual interpretation. Although much argued, it remains that Anthology is “the most important institution dedicated to experimental film in the country,” 160 even if it is because it is the only institution in the United States to do so. To this day—although it is currently closed—Anthology remains a 159 Diana Taylor, The Archive and the Repertoire : Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas (Durham: Duke University Press, 2003), 19. 160 Mark Drew Benedetti, “Beneath New York: The Formations and Effects of Canons in American Underground Film Movements,” PhD diss., Indiana University, 2013, 139. 51 repository, library, and point of access to the history and viewing of underground film. However, the Essential Cinema collection, proves to not be such a strong model of accessible exhibition. While attempting in some ways to be accessible to audiences by making tickets somewhat affordable and by providing resources for audience members to learn more, it is founded on exclusion and arbitrary selectivity. The fact that the Essential Cinema repertory project was never rectified is further a sign that Anthology’s professed values of access are not implemented in its collections. There was no malignant intention, it appears to be a mixture of the consequence of bureaucracy and ambition. The lesson to be learned from its failures is that follow-through matters just as much as intention. The intention of starting a collection that would grow annually and be utilized as an educational resource is noble, but it was never completed and still to this day excludes so much work. One cannot forget how much work made contemporaneously and after the establishment of Anthology went overlooked, including that of women such as Jane Aaron, Chantal Akerman, Penny Allen, Peggy Ahwesh, Liza Bear, Lizzie Borden (although Anthology is preserving one of her films currently), Penelope Buitenhouse, Jennifer Burford, Marry Ellen Bute, Donna Cameron, Roberta Cantow, Doris Chase, Abigail Child, Shirley Clarke, Kathleen Collins, Martha Coolidge, Sharon Couzin, Sally Cruikshank, Vivienne Dick, Germaine Dulac, Su Friedrich, Barbara Hammer, Marjorie Keller, Naomi Levine, Patricia Marx, Carolee Schneemann, Yvonne Rainer, and Joyce Wieland cannot be ignored. Rabinovitz posits that: 161 Anthology Film’s beginnings may be seen as the last ritual of a New York avant- garde in the midst of being decentralized and swallowed up by the larger systems of museum and university film practices… what is often lost in narratives of Anthology Film’s ascendency is that it represented not simply a new organization’s rise to power and accommodation of certain texts into elitist categories but a reconfiguration of powers already present in the avant-garde cinema. Anthology Film’s appearance is most significant for the way that it 161 Lauren Rabinovitz, Points of Resistance, 141 (emphasis mine). 52 represented a disruption of overtly political film practices and a recuperation of radical cinema potential into safe categories of conservative curatorship. Rabinovitz is suggesting that the institutionalization of underground film practices was the poison apple to its radicality. Additionally, she is suggesting that the problem existed prior to the establishment of Anthology as an institution. The problem being the predominance of male presence in the underground film scene which overwhelmed and silenced opposing voices. Rabinovitz documents this occurring to filmmakers such as Maya Deren, Shirley Clarke, and Joyce Wieland among countless others. Why then is Anthology as an institution framed as being accessible by thinkers such as Kirsten Alfaro? First, because compared to the ambivalence and limitations that other moving image archives undergo, Anthology has a level of autonomy which allows it to make its contents accessible. Second, because examining Anthology through this parochial lens does leave one thinking it is remarkably accessible. This involves not considering the human subjectivity which formed the institution as well as the perspectives of its dissidents. Whatever foundations of access that Anthology purported and purports to exercise can only be seen in this limited scope. Once a broader perspective is applied, one can only appreciate its existence superficially. Section 3: Conclusion While the current polemical discourse surrounding content access in moving image archives exposes a number of difficulties including a lack of resources, copyright restrictions, and a sense of ambivalence among archivists as to whether content access is the right move, access remains a vital raison d’être for the moving image archive. Academic writing often 53 comes back to the nuanced and integral relationship between access and preservation. 162 Following Rick Prelinger and Caroline Frick, the twenty-first century archive focuses on how to make content accessible rather than focusing on object-centered access. 163 By implementing policies which seek to emphasize content access, moving image archives would more closely resemble public libraries in their mission to provide equitable access to materials for patrons. While Prelinger focuses on digital content access, I am arguing for access in situ, because while being able to have decentralized access to moving image materials is beneficial, it is not access, which requires more than making materials available. Further, the drawbacks of digital content access are not acknowledged by Prelinger. The presence of more and more screens in which patrons could access digitized materials encourages a culture of isolation. Access in situ is a communal and social experience. While this thesis concerns itself with access in situ rather than digital access, both forms are a form of preservation that “can expand scholarship and enrich communities.” 164 While he espouses ideals of access and inclusion, these ideals themselves do not lead to equitable access to information. Despite materials being available online does not guarantee their use and it does not guarantee a meaningful encounter. Access is more than just the availability of content. I have taken my cues from Michele Pierson’s notion that embedded into the protocols of underground film exhibition is an assumption that content access is more than making films available for viewing. 165 Pierson’s thinking is corroborated by the American Library Association’s policies around equitable access, which requires deliberate and intentional acts to 162 Alfaro, “Access and the Experimental Film,” 47. 163 Ibid. 164 Prelinger, “Points of Origin,” 164–75. 165 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 16. 54 make materials accessible to patrons. 166 These acts or protocols, which I have divided into three categories (affordability, ethical acquisition policies, and discursive materials) move towards an ethical and accessible model of exhibition. Two case studies, one of MoMA’s Cineprobe series and one of Anthology Film Archives’ Essential Cinema series fleshed out what this format would look like. The Cineprobe case study examined how the series, which is not an example of archival of exhibition but took place within a collecting institution, created a site for filmmakers and audiences to encounter one another. What was key is that Cineprobe provided fiscal incentives to audience members and filmmakers. Ticket prices were not affordable at regular cost, but audience members were incentivized to arrive at 6:00pm as tickets were free then. The audience was most likely heterogenous, including interested members of the underground film movement as well as an audience of students. Cineprobe was able to draw filmmakers and artists by providing a generous honorarium, room and board, and travel costs through the use of outside grants such as the National Endowment for the Arts. Further, the curators Adrienne Mancia and Larry Kardish were flexible, friendly, and kind to the artists they worked with. The case study on Anthology Film Archives’ Essential Cinema collection did not rely on primary sources as the Cineprobe section did because of the closure of the institution. Without access to primary sources, however, the richness of utilizing correspondence, legal files, and financial files is lost. However, thinkers such as Kirsten Alfaro have argued previously that Anthology as an institution was founded on archival access. Despite Alfaro’s insistence on 166 “Access to Library Resources and Services,” American Library Association, October 23, 2015. http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/access (Accessed December 8, 2019) Document ID: 5b7afc43-b7d1-d344-0158-894320737305. 55 Anthology serving as an example accessible exhibition, with the available information the Essential Cinema collection does not appear to employ consistent and deliberate efforts towards accessibility. It is important to keep in mind that the Essential Cinema collection was initially supposed to be updated annually. Currently it remains unfinished, and it has been unfinished since 1975. The exclusions made by the film selection committee have been criticized, as well as the way in which the films were selected. The ticket prices were expensive and limited at the time Anthology opened. The changes in ticket prices after Anthology settled at its current location are not known. While attempting in some ways to be accessible to audiences by making tickets somewhat affordable and by providing resources for audience members to learn more, the Essential Cinema collection is founded on exclusion and arbitrary selectivity. Notwithstanding all of this, according to Robert Haller, Anthology came out of a desire to create an institution which was a mélange of a public library and a research institution. 167 This perspective, which purports that Anthology exists as a space founded on policies of access (the public library) combined with the specificity of a research institution essentially fulfills the purpose of this thesis. Further, it could simply be that the Essential Cinema collection does not serve as a historical example of accessible archival exhibition, but the institution of Anthology itself was at the time and continues to be an institution predicated on access as Alfaro says. But is it possible to ignore that the Essential Cinema remains a highlighted collection despite the fact that is unfinished and not at all representative? Is it possible that these failures are indicative of further institutional failures and other instances where ideas were not followed through? Based on the correspondence that Alfaro uses as evidence between Mekas and Masur, Anthology’s lawyer, there did not seem to be any malignant intention behind any of the mistakes the institution made, 167 Robert Haller, “Anthology Film Archives,” Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television 16, No. 1, 1996, 89. 56 but rather the consequences of bureaucracy and over-ambitiousness. Follow-through matters as much as intention. In addition, Lauren Rabinovitz’s position that the creation of Anthology came at the death of the spirit of the underground film movement, but that it was also founded on the same dynamics of power which always existed in the scene. The predominance of white, male filmmakers at the expense and erasure of anyone else is a legacy of the underground film movement along with its other, more flattering qualities which have been discussed in this thesis. In terms of their structure, the two case studies do not have a lot in common. Cineprobe was created within an institution, the selection of films was collaborative, and the curators actively sought grants. The format of the screenings also differed. Cineprobe’s key feature was that the filmmaker was present to view and discuss his work with the audience. The Essential Cinema series, while programmed by the filmmaker themselves did not feature a conversation. Anthology as an institution endured with minimal resources after Jerome Hill’s death and from the legal correspondence that Alfaro mentions in her piece, seemed to struggle financially which impacted their ability to be accessible. The material programmed for each series, despite Cineprobe being a strictly contemporary program and the Essential Cinema series having a mixture of classic feature length films, contemporary feature-length films and underground films, and some selections from the first and second avant-garde film movements was remarkably similar. The link between the two appears to be the filmmaker’s cooperative, as well as Larry Kardish’s apparent friendship with Jonas Mekas. An important distinction between the two programs is that the Essential Cinema’s aim was to develop a discrete collection. While films from Cineprobe were added to MoMA’s Film Department’s archive, it was not the expressed interest of the curators to create a legible aggregate of films. What Cineprobe had in breadth and relevancy at the time, Anthology was 57 able to provide a consistent and repetitive viewing cycle that allowed viewers to know and understand a film. It could be said that the conversation between filmmaker and audience gave the viewers the same understanding as repetitive viewing, but the two aren’t exactly comparable. It must be said that neither included the films of Shirley Clarke. We know why Anthology did not include her, but it is unclear why Cineprobe did not. Some other notable exclusions from Cineprobe’s programming (1968-1997) are Jordan Belson, Joseph Cornell, Len Lye, Christopher Maclaine, Gregory Markopoulos, Ron Rice, Harry Smith, and Jack Smith. It’s possible that even in 1968 the works of these filmmakers were not recent enough to be considered. On the other hand, Cineprobe’s list of filmmakers and artists who were shown is significantly larger than the Essential Cinema collection, but again this comes down to the intention and philosophy of each of the programs. Additionally, Cineprobe and the Essential Cinema series fell into the trap of defining their audiences very specifically. When Adrienne Mancia told the audience member who complained because of the Jim McBride screening to go elsewhere, she inadvertently placed a limitation in the program’s audience reach. Also, in later Cineprobe seasons, the language changed from encouraging “dialogue between independent artists and audiences” to encouraging “dialogue between independent artists and their audience,” 168 a change which suggests that the attitudes of the curators changed over time. Both Anthology on the other hand, and the Essential Cinema collection by extension, limited their audiences by being so closely linked to educational institutions. The notable similarity between the two programs however is their accessibility to students. For this specific audience, both platforms served as a pedagogical tool. Further study of the connection between New York educational institutions and the underground film movement would be useful. Lastly, 168 Pierson, “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde,” 19. 58 it would appear that Cineprobe functioned in some ways as Cinematheque 1 was supposed to. To reiterate, Cinematheque 1 was supposed to be the permanent home of the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque, a program which resembles Cineprobe more closely as well. Cinematheque 2, or Anthology, was meant to be a separate but related building meant for the purposes of educating individuals in film art. Cinematheque 1 would remain more relaxed; showing the work of community members and functioning with the spirit of the Filmmaker’s Cooperative and the New American Cinema Group and in no way interfering with the values of Anthology. What can be taken away from these two studies is that neither of them is perfect. Cineprobe and the Essential Cinema collection were both situated in a very specific milieu which privileged white, male perspectives. But if we pull the aspirations of both along with some of their techniques, I believe there is a structure from which accessible theatrical exhibition in an archival setting can occur. While Jodi Dean’s warning of the dangers of communicative capitalism which has been expressed at multiple points in this thesis exists, a certain standard of content access needs to be effectively implemented in addition to other efforts such as a discursive protocol and consideration for what is being selected and then shown. There needs to be a baseline of content that is accessible, in the format of an in-situ screening for example. A point does exist where too much information leads to oversaturation and a less meaningful interaction. Instantaneous access changes the way we watch films, making it easy to pay less attention, or not watch a film to the end, or to end up being distracted throughout by other screens. If we see the screen as a site of critical entry, we should take seriously its ability to transform spaces into loci of community. 59 Bibliography “Access to Library Resources and Services,” American Library Association, October 23, 2015. http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/access (Accessed December 8, 2019) Document ID: 5b7afc43-b7d1-d344-0158-894320737305 Alfaro, Kristen. “Access and the Experimental Film: New Technologies and Anthology Film Archives’ Institutionalizations of the Avant-Garde.” The Moving Image 12, no. 1 (Spring 2012): 44-64. Arthur, Paul. “Routines of Emancipation: Alternative Cinema in the Ideology and Politics of the Sixties,” in To Free the Cinema: Jonas Mekas and the New York Underground, edited by David E. James, 28-38. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. Barr, Alfred H. Jr. Papers, XIV.B. The Museum of Modern Art Archives, New York. Bates Lowry Papers, I.11. The Museum of Modern Art Archives, New York. Benedetti, Mark Drew. “Beneath New York: The Formations and Effects of Canons in American Underground Film Movements.” PhD diss., Indiana University, 2013. Derrida, Jacques. Archive Fever : a Freudian Impression Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Duncan, Carol and Alan Wallach. “The Museum of Modern Art as Late Capitalist Ritual: An Iconographic Analysis.” Marxist Perspectives 4 (1978): 28-51. Enyeart, James L. Willard Van Dyke: Changing the World Through Photography and Film. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2008. Film Exhibition Records, C. The Museum of Modern Art Archives, New York Frick, Caroline. Saving Cinema: The Politics of Preservation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. Gracy, Karen F. “Ambition and Ambivalence: A Study of Professional Attitudes toward Digital Distribution of Archival Moving Images.” The American Archivist 76, No. 2 (2013): 346- 373. https://www.jstor.org/stable/43490359. Hall, Stuart. “Encoding, Decoding,” in The Cultural Studies Reader, ed. Simon During (London: Routledge, 1993), 90–103. James, David E. To Free the Cinema : Jonas Mekas and the New York Underground Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1992. 60 Kase, Carlos. "A Cinema of Anxiety: American Experimental Film in the Realm of Art.” PhD diss., University of Southern California, 2009. Kubelka, Peter. "The Invisible Cinema." Design Quarterly, no. 93 (1974): 32-36. Accessed March 28, 2020. doi:10.2307/4090908. Mattock, Lindsay Kistler. “Media Arts Centers as Alternative Archival Spaces: Investigating The Development of Archival Practices in Non-Profit Media Organizations.” PhD, diss., University of Pittsburgh. Mekas, Jonas, Smulewicz-Zucker, Gregory R., and Bogdanovich, Peter. Movie Journal : the Rise of the New American Cinema, 1959-1971 Second edition. New York: Columbia University Press, 2016. Pierson, Michele. “The Accessibility of the Avant-Garde: Talk about American Experimental Cinema.” Discourse 40, no. 1 (2018): 3-29. Prelinger, Rick. “Points of Origin: Discovering Ourselves Through Access.” The Moving Image 9, no. 2 (2010): 164-75. Prelinger, Rick. “Archives and Access in the 21st Century.” Cinema Journal 46, no. 3 (2007): 114-118. https://www.jstor.org/stable/30130532?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents. Rabinovitz, Lauren. Points of Resistance: Women, Power & Politics in the New York Avant- Garde Cinema 1943-71. 2nd ed. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003. Renan, Sheldon. An Introduction to the American Underground Film. New York: Dutton, 1967. Sitney, P. Adams. The Essential Cinema: Essays on Films in the Collection of Anthology Film Archives. New York: Anthology Film Archives, 1975. Sitney, P. Adams. Visionary film: the American avant-garde, 1943-2000. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002. Sitton, Robert. "Iris Barry." In Jane Gaines, Radha Vatsal, and Monica Dall’Asta, eds. Women Film Pioneers Project. New York, NY: Columbia University Libraries, 2015. <https://doi.org/10.7916/d8-f2zz-7v28> Steedman, Carolyn. Dust: the Archive and Cultural History. New Brunswick, N.J: Rutgers University Press, 2002. Takahashi, Tess. “Experimental Screens in the 1960s and 70s: The Site of Community.” Cinema Journal 51, no. 2 (2012): 162-167. 61 Taylor, Diana. The Archive and the Repertoire : Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas. Durham: Duke University Press, 2003. Wasson, Haidee. Museum Movies: The Museum of Modern Art and the Birth of Art Cinema. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. Wielgus, Alison Lynn. “You Had to Have Been There: Experimental Film And Video, Sound, And Liveness in the New York Underground.” PhD diss., The University of Iowa, 2014.

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Creator Moeykens-Arballo, Eve (author)

Core Title The Museum of Modern Art’s Cineprobe program and Essential Cinema at Anthology Film Archives: curating underground film

School Roski School of Art and Design

Degree Master of Arts

Degree Program Curatorial Practices and the Public Sphere

Publication Date 05/07/2020

Defense Date 05/05/2020

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag access,anthology film archives,archives,avant-garde film,Cineprobe,curating,Essential Cinema,experimental film,film,film history,Jonas Mekas,Libraries,Museum of Modern Art,OAI-PMH Harvest,underground film

Language English

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Advisor Campbell, Andrew (committee chair), Everett, Dino (committee member), Moss, Karen (committee member)

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