DC's

Artwork by Michael Salerno

 

WHAT I SEE IS BEAUTIFUL, BUT I DON’T THINK IT’S ENOUGH

“I’m beyond thrilled to announce that my brand new novel, WE’LL NEVER BE FRAGILE AGAIN, is ready and waiting to enter the world. It’s my sixth novel, and a book that I’m really proud of. I feel it’s the best writing I’ve done so far and I’m excited to share it with you very soon.

“I am indebted to Philip Best for his continued support and faith and for giving the book a place at the one and only Amphetamine Sulphate. I couldn’t ask for a better publisher, and I don’t have the words to describe the help and support he has given me these last few years. And again, I’m honoured that the incredible Michael Salerno has given me his miraculous skills and created such gorgeous, beautiful artwork for the book.

“It’s a strange, painful book about memory, regrets, art, friendship, desire and death.” — Thomas Moore

 

Purchase We’ll Be Fragile Again

Release date: USA, May 18th 2025
UK/EU (hardcover version) June 20th 2025

Buy the book here
USA: https://amphetaminesulphate.bigcartel.com/product/fragile
UK: https://cargorecordsdirect.co.uk/products/thomas-moore-well-never-be-fragile-again?srsltid=AfmBOootAkRBRo1hc8m0tMDfIMTpqcy6M3hraxVBVqi7lFWBmADzFWbC

 

Interview with Thomas Moore by Danielle Chelosky

I got into Amphetamine Sulphate through Isabelle Nicou’s otherworldly books. Shortly after, I was diving into the works of Audrey Szasz and Simon Morris, and then finally Thomas Moore. I was enamoured with the visceral writing of all of the authors, along with the handwritten postcards Philip Best would send with the paperbacks. The first book of Moore’s I read was Forever. Reading it immediately gave me the feeling that I’m always searching for in art — that the words on the page are familiar despite the fact I’ve never read them before, like I’m digging up thoughts and ideas from my subconscious. Its follow-up Your Dreams possessed the same magnitude of emotion and disillusionment. Now, We’ll Never Be Fragile Again is another evocative text from a prolific writer dedicated to portraying the tribulations of love, lust, aging, and existing at all.

Danielle Chelosky: While reading We’ll Never Be Fragile Again, I found this line to be particularly striking: “What I see is beautiful, but I don’t think it’s enough.” It’s a recurring idea in your work — feeling enchanted by something yet still empty. It breaks my heart, but at the same time, in spite of this feeling, you keep writing, and I see writing as a pursuit to create something beautiful and fulfilling. Do you view writing that way?

Thomas Moore: I think that might be true in a way, actually, the more that I think about. When I write, part of the whole thing is wanting to write the books that don’t exist but that I wish did exist. I’m very obsessive about writing and that also translates into the subject matter, which often does revolve around obsession. I want every book to be better than the last, so each time I do as best as I can, but it’ll be perfect, so I carry on and try and get closer to whatever it is that this compulsion is driving me towards for whatever unknown reason. And yeah, beauty is a reoccurring idea in all of my books, in whatever form or forms beauty takes in them. I’ll probably never know why, but I just have to keep going. I guess there’s hope in that in a way.

DC: When you say you’re trying to get closer to whatever it is that the compulsion of writing is driving you toward, it reminds of this 1949 essay by Bataille that I can’t stop quoting lately. I’m going to quote it now without the necessary context because that would take too much time. But he says that art “puts us on the path of complete destruction and suspends us there for a time, offers us ravishment without death. Of course, this ravishment could be the most inescapable trap — if we manage to attain it, although strictly speaking it escapes us at the very instant that we attain it. Here or there, we enter into death or return to our little worlds.” It may be dramatic but I think it’s true — that making art is a close encounter with death. Do you feel that sort of euphoric, otherworldly breakthrough while writing? There’s a recurring theme in your books where you feel dissatisfied with writing, though, and I’m curious how often that happens, too.

TM: I love Bataille’s essays. They struck such a strong chord with me way back when I first started to discover his work. I can definitely relate to that quote — he puts it in a way that’s beyond any inarticulate fumbles that I might attempt in that kind of direction. For me, yes, writing completely gives men that otherworldly thing. Bataille talked about sex and religion having this similarity in the way that they both take the participants out of the everyday, and I think from my personal experience, art does similar. It’s only when I’m writing that I enter this zone where the whole world and everything around me just stops and disappears briefly. I think Burroughs referred to it as inner silence. When I get fully into writing it’s like meditation — I’m just writing and nothing else. I don’t notice it until I finish and I’m suddenly hit by the noise of everything else returning. Do you get that too? With regards to the stuff about being dissatisfied with writing, that’s more to do with the idea of the limitations of writing, how I’m interested in trying to achieve things that I don’t think language and words really can — the real magic isn’t about the words but about the moods that are created that are something other than the simple nuts and bolts of the text.

DC: Yes, I once tweeted that I like writing because it’s like blacking out, but meditation is a better (or at least better-sounding) comparison. To get less existential (didn’t mean to start the interview with Bataille but shit happens), I’ve been thinking about genre a lot. With We’ll Never Be Fragile Again, there’s a dedication page but the name the book is for is blocked out. How do you choose between what to reveal and what not to reveal in your work, and how do you react to that frequent desire of readers to know whether something is nonfiction or fiction? It kind of disturbs me — it makes them uncomfortable if it doesn’t fit into one box and it affects the way they view the work. I also think there’s a tendency for readers to view nonfiction-leaning writing as gossip rather than art.

TM: With the dedication, I just liked the idea of using the entire book as part of the fiction, from the front cover to the back. It just seemed like a chance to add something really simple but hopefully quite impactful or something. For me, some of the writers of the New Narrative, which was a massive influence on me, turned writing gossip into something really spectacular and powerful. With regard to what people wonder about what’s “real” or whatever doesn’t really bother me too much. If they’re interested, maybe that means that the books have caught their imagination, in some way at least.

DC: It’s nice you’re less bitter than I am about that stuff. Which New Narrative writers/works do you view as your main influences? (Chris Kraus has been a favorite of mine for forever, but Lynne Tillman’s Haunted Houses recently blew me away)

TM: Oh man, just the whole thing. Kevin Killian, Dodie Bellamy, Lynne Tillman is amazing. Robert Glück is an absolute legend to me. And one of my all time favourites is Lawrence Braithwaite, who I’m always recommending to people because his two novels (and his unreleased final book) are all so completely mind-blowing. He was such a special and singular writer.

DC: This reminded me to order Cunt-Ups by Dodie Bellamy, because I don’t know where to begin with her, but I love that title. Anyway, you put out books quite often; this is your second book of 2025, following the poetry collection I Ruined Your Life, which was published on Kiddiepunk in February. What does the process consist of for you? Are you the kind of writer who saves observations and thoughts into a document throughout the day and puts them together later? Or does it all come out in a flow at your desk? And — even though I personally hate this cliché term, I have to ask — do you ever get writer’s block?

TM: That’s a great book. The Letters of Mina Harker is a wonderful novel, so you should grab that, too. My process is just obsessively reworking and fiddling with things until they feel how they’re meant to feel. I try and write every day. That’s my way of never having writers block. And a lot of the time I just let myself write crap, that way it gets stuff out of my system until the good stuff is ready to appear. I think I only had proper writers block once, and that lasted a good few years. After that I decided if I never stop writing I never have to worry about having to start again. It’s not an approach that works for everyone but it does for me. Also, writing is my favourite thing to do, so it’s never a chore or anything like that. It’s a pleasurable thing for me to do. And yes, I’m forever making notes and then reworking stuff later and seeing what works with whatever else I have. I guess I’m always taking everything in.

DC: OK, last question: I feel like almost all of your books break the fourth wall by acknowledging the book and the act of writing it. The penultimate chapter of Your Dreams was very confrontational with the reader, and toward the end of We’ll Never Be Fragile Again you even explain the process behind the book title. Why do you think you’re drawn to doing that? It’s almost like you’re making the reader feel as exposed and vulnerable as you.

TM: I’m really into the idea of the books knowing they are books. It feels like that gives me space to play with the language in a way that can hopefully mess around with emotion in a certain way that I find interesting for whatever reason. In all honesty I’m not completely sure why I’ve been drawn to this just yet — there are a lot of structural things and formal stuff that I’m conscious of putting in place when I’m working on the books and a lot of things that become more apparent when I’m editing, but so many of the decisions are also intuitive and instinctive and just come from whatever place the compulsion to write comes from in the first place. I don’t try and work it all out too much, I think that the ideas are there and it’s important that when the ideas feel so certain, that I just go with them. I think the writing knows more than me.

 

Excerpt

Links:

Thomas Moore at Instagram is @thomasmoronic
Amphetamine Sulphate: https://amphetaminesulphate.bigcartel.com
Michael Salerno and Kiddiepunk: https://kiddiepunk.com
Danielle Chelosky: https://www.daniellechelosky.com

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. This weekend the blog reverts to doormat mode to become one of the entryways for Thomas Moore’s spanking new novel. I’ve read it, and it’s really gorgeous, and I suspect you’ll think so too. Please scroll incrementally and input all the evidence gathered here. Thank you, and many thanks to you for gracing this place with your mastery, Mr. Moore. ** James Bennett, I thought so. Well, palm trees always give their planting ground a certain je ne sais quoi. Enjoy the out and about with your pal. When’s the Adem-hosted reading? This weekend? ** jay, Hey there! Back from your Japan holiday? If so, that’s some jet lag to reckon with. Anyway, is that where you were? Were you dazzled, etc.? All’s good and fairly usual here. Good to see you! ** Misanthrope, As with everything directed from the governmental gate keepers these days, I’ll believe when I see it, if even then. Three days off with no car? You got a bike? ** Dominik, Hi!!! I feel like I can think of lots of films where queerness is central but not bracketed by the ‘coming out’ thematic. Let’s see … Kenneth Anger films, Araki’s, John Waters’s, Derek Jarman’s, ‘I Saw the TV Glow’, ‘Death in Venice’, ‘Tangerine’, Wong Kar Wai’s ‘Happy Together’, most of Almodovar’s films, ‘Velvet Goldmine’, ‘My Own Private Idaho’, … Or did you mean something different? Steve had a recommendation for you if you check this comment of yesterday. Love didn’t want to interview Huppert mostly because it’s a lot of work since he would need to familiarise himself with a decent portion of her films and she’s been in a million films and because he respects her but is not that excited by her. Oh, no, an asshole dentist is scary. I trust Anita’s mouth is drinking and chewing and breathing normally. Love relaxing a bit because Zac loves his latest draft of their new film script, G. ** _Black_Acrylic, One of these years I do want to go to Greece for that monumental screening, but it is, yes, a daunting prospect. Not to mention the imagined heat, yikes. Happy you were hooked in by his films. How’s your weekend looking or how did it look? ** Carsten, If you grew up in the States pre-internet you had to live in LA or NYC or maybe SF to even know experimental films existed much less see them. Well, unless you studied film at university and lucked out with some adventurous professor. We storyboard our films both to help us visualise the wordage initially and also and mainly because if you make films with a crew and cast who are being paid for their time and if you have very limited money like we do you don’t have the luxury of sitting around on set for hours experimenting with the filming aspect. ** julian, Good, mission accomplished. Experimental films have been kind of my bread and butter since I was teenager. They’re where I learned so much about making things. UCSD, yes, that’s what I was thinking. I used to know people who taught there, and maybe I still do. Oh, the tribute album. Yes, that was wild. It was the project of this guy/writer Don Waters. He just approached bands and artists he thought might be influenced by my work and solicited tracks they thought showed the influence. And a couple of musicians I collaborated with. I was totally honored by it, of course, and liked a lot of it. He basically had no funding, so a number of bands/musicians who wanted to contribute (Sonic Youth, Pavement, and others) couldn’t because their record companies wouldn’t donate the tracks gratis. I’m surprised that CD hasn’t been uploaded somewhere. Awesome that you found it. ** Steeqhen, Hi. I need to befriend someone who only speaks French, but it would be hard to start a friendship where both parties would be doomed to months and months of confusion and exhaustion. I’ve seen the words ‘Vanderpump Rules’, but, as with all things TV, I don’t know what the fuck. ** Thomas Moronic, There you are, the man of the 48 hours (and beyond). Thanks in person for what’s up above. I’m really happy you like Beier’s work. Yay! Love, me. ** pancakeIan, Surely you know John Waters’ or Gus Van Sant’s stuff? Anyway, glad it struck you. Poor Robin (‘Try’), yes. I felt sad putting that figment of my imagination through all of that. And let’s not even start with poor, poor Alfonse. Some part of me is horrible, haha. If I was a human air conditioner, and sadly I am not, I would be teleporting you a hug right now. ** Steve, Grief is a sneaky and invasive and unfortunately patient thing. I passed your rec. onto Dominick, thanks, and I might check that film out myself. I don’t know it. ** HaRpEr //, Excellent! Wonderful! And I am not at all surprised, but still. Yes, yes, share the link when it’s linkable. The poem sounds great, natch. There are few things in this world more unpleasant than drunken UK soccer fanatic boys. As I may have mentioned, one night when I was on a UK book tour in the early 90s these three soused soccer boys knocked me to the ground and kicked me repeatedly in the head because their team lost some match. Lovely. Of course the Bowery show is amazing. Gosh, great, so happy you got to it. ‘Hail the New Puritan’ is wonderful through and through. Exactly, about ‘120 Days”s end. Couldn’t be put better. Glad the films intrigued you. Have an intriguing and much more weekend. ** oliver jude, Hey! Nice to see you. Gosh, LA is giant. Where are you staying? You’ll have transportation? Um, I always recommend The Museum of Jurassic Technology. The Graveline Tour where you’ve driven around in a converted hearse and shown the exact spots where famous people died is fun. There are the amusement parks, but you probably won’t have time. Eat good Mexican food. Poquito Mas is my favorite. Anyway, yeah, where will you be in that sprawl? I’ll try to think further. ** Okay. Be all experiential with Thomas Moore’s new novel, you people, and I will return to this place again on Monday.

* (restored/expanded)

 

‘One of the most extraordinary American experimental filmmakers of the 20th century, Gregory Markopoulos (1928-1992) also remains one of its most elusive. For more than a decade before his death, Markopoulos—who had emigrated to Europe in 1967, withdrawn his films from circulation, and asked that a chapter on his work be removed from P. Adams Sitney’s Visionary Film—had been disassembling many of his most celebrated films and reworking them, along with some 55 previously unscreened new films, into a final magnum opus, Eniaios, a silent, 80-hour-long epic arranged in 22 cycles. Left unprinted when Markopoulos died, Eniaios (a term evoking unity and oneness, yet a film in which, separated always by lengths of leader, no two images “touch”) is still today being slowly processed and projected for the faithful once every four years at the outdoor theater known as the Temenos—a place “cut off” from the everyday and reserved for contemplations of divinity—established by Markopoulos and his partner, the filmmaker Robert Beavers, in the mountain village of Lyssaraia in Greece. Only eight of the 22 cycles, each running between three and five hours, have been screened thus far.

‘“I propose a new narrative form through the fusion of the classic montage technique with a more abstract system,” wrote the filmmaker in 1963, in one of the essays collected in Mark Webber’s invaluable Film as Film: The Collected Writings of Gregory J. Markopoulos (The Visible Press, 2014). “This system involves the use of short film phrases which evoke thought-images. Each film phrase is composed of certain select frames that are similar to the harmonic units found in musical composition.” Markopoulos spent much of his career focused on various methods for editing and interrelating “short film phrases” and individual compositions (of often inanimate objects, emptied rooms, and unpopulated landscapes) in elaborate patterns, and finally on the effects of individual frames as they puncture and punctuate passages of darkness—like flashes in a night sky, or musical notes suddenly piercing silence. Eniaios is the complex culmination of this life’s work, but aspects of its nascent form can be glimpsed in 1968’s Gammelion, a 54-minute portrait of the much-storied castle of Roccasinibalda in Rieti, Italy, made from only six minutes of photographed footage: each image fleetingly appears and reappears, interwoven in a thousand slow fades and myriad combinations with lengthy passages of black and clear leader.

‘Shortly before relocating to Europe, Markopoulos had also developed a personalized method for composing and editing certain films entirely in-camera. In the eventually restored Markopoulos chapter of Visionary Film, Sitney (still the filmmaker’s greatest admirer and exegete, and Artforum’s Temenos correspondent) explains: “Carefully watching the frame-counter on his camera, [Markopoulos] would expose a number of takes of one image interspersed with blackness, achieved by covering the lens with his hands or the lens cap for as long as he wanted, or by using the automatic fading mechanism of his Bolex camera, all with different nuances. He would then rewind the film and expose the units of the next view, detail, or object.” Both the lush 1966 apartment portrait Ming Green and 1967’s Bliss, a study of a Byzantine church on the Greek island of Hydra, utilized this technique, the cumulative effect of which finds beautifully composed, naturally lit images appearing from and disappearing into darkness, often superimposed upon one another in extremely specific ways—like panes of illuminated vapour in a chimerical piece of leaded glass.

‘Markopoulos’ brilliance as a composer with light may owe a debt to his studies with Josef von Sternberg while a student at USC, but like so much related to the filmmaker’s immense cinematic legacy, speculation only goes so far. Fortunately, Webber and Beavers occasionally travel with and exhibit the films in their original forms: I caught Bliss and Gammelion earlier this year courtesy of Los Angeles Filmforum and Redcat. Beyond that, well…there’s always Lyssaraia.’ — Chuck Stephens

 

___
Stills

 

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Further

Gregory J. Markopolous @ IMDb
Film as Film: The Cinema of Gregory Markopoulos
A Pilgrimage to the Peloponnese: Gregory Markopoulos, Eniaios and the Temenos
Gregory J. Markopoulos @ Experimental Cinema
STAN BRAKHAGE ON GREGORY MARKOPOULOS & JIM DAVIS
Gregory Markopoulos @ Mark Webber
Gregory J. Markopoulos and the Cantrills
THE WRITINGS OF GREGORY J. MARKOPOULOS
Like Being in a Rainbow: Gregory Markopoulos and the Temenos
Daily Briefing. Bill Morrison, Winsor McCay, Gregory Markopoulos
ROBERT TODD / To Gregory Markopoulos
Queer & Now & Then: 1949
GM @ Making Light of It
The Song of the Poet ; on Gregory J. Markopoulos
Film Grows Unseen: Gregory Markopoulos, Robert Beavers, and the Tectonics of Film Editing
Seconds in Eternity: Experimental Film Master Gregory Markopoulos

 

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Extras

Gregory Markopoulos & Robert Beavers in 1987

“Andy Warhol, Gregory Markopoulos et Cinématon au Jeu de Paume” (2014) by Gérard Courant

Ute Aurand and Robert Beavers discuss the legacy of Gregory J Markopoulos

 

____
Interview with Robert Beavers
from Lumiere

 

We believe that some films such as Christmas U.S.A., Eldora, Serenity, The Divine Damnation, Gammelion, Index – Hans Richter, Hagiographia or Moment are not preserved in The Temenos Archive. Is this true? Is a priority on the part of The Temenos that all Markopoulos’s film copies could be found there – apart from other places?

Christmas U.S.A. and Eldora have recently been preserved through new internegatives made by Temenos Archive. Serenity is lost for the time being. The single existing copy of The Divine Damnation rests in Anthology Film Archives. Gammelion has been preserved by Österreichisches Filmmuseum. And the only existing copy of Index – Hans Richter is in the Österreichisches Filmmuseum. There are two versions of Hagiographia; the splices in the first version were defective and turned magenta. One copy of this version is in Anthology Film Archives and the second version was refilmed and is the main film in Eniaios V. Moment, if I remember correctly, is a portrait of Barbara Hepworth, and the only existing copy is in the Österreichisches Filmmuseum.

In some cases (Alph, Doldertal 7, Saint Acteon, 35, boulevard General Koenig) the original reversal film is deposited in The Temenos Archive. Will you try at any point to restore them?

Yes, we hope to restore a number of these films. Three of the four film titles that you mention were incorporated into Eniaios.

What does Sitney mean when he talks about the “reediting of his entire corpus”? What did this reediting involved? What is exactly Eniaios?

The creation of Eniaios was a process that began by Markopoulos making corrections in some of his earliest films, then he came to the decision to discard the existing soundtracks; and he had conceived the idea of the Temenos and was continuing to produce new films that he edited but chose not to print. At some point in the mid-70’s -I have a clearer sense of the place, Champéry, than of the year- he began the process of organizing all of the existing films into a new form, and finally reached the interwoven composition of Eniaios, in which reels of different films are composed into the unit of each “cycle” or “film order”. Each of these multi-reel compositions has its own individual title and there is a progression from the first to the 22nd cycle. The first five are listed in our Temenos 2008 program and the next three will be listed in our new one.

In this sense, what do these “about one hundred films” involve?

They are the summation of Markopoulos’s filmmaking and give it a unified form. Other qualities that are in his earlier work may be lost, but there is a remarkable gain.

Is it true that it would take more than eighty hours to project Eniaios?

I cannot give you an exact length in minutes for Eniaios. It has 167 reels and at some point I must have reached an approximate calculation of 80 hours, but I could be mistaken…

Is it true that you started to rework your films until arranging in three cycles My Hand Outstretched, continuing in a certain sense the example of Markopoulos with Eniaios?

My decision to re-edit many of my films also began with the intention to “correct” some of my earliest films, but I kept them in chronological order and compressed the length of these early films often to half their original length, and I devoted a number of years to editing new sound tracks. I cannot describe the complex back and forth of inspiration and conflict that existed; most of my filmmaking has been in dialogue with Markopoulos, and this continues to some degree although more indirectly.

Did you work in parallel on these projects?

Yes.

How were those working days?

Usually quiet. Often interspersed with crises related to lack of funds.

Did you use to edit in the same place?

Sometimes in connecting rooms.

Given the date which appears in the Temenos website, 1948-1990, should we understand that Markopoulos began “shooting symbolically” Eniaios in 1948?

No. This date means that the films incorporated into Eniaios date between 1947 and 1990. The initial decision about the form of Eniaios came in the 1970’s and it was often revised up until its completion in 1991.

1948 is the year in which Markopoulos finished his film Du sang, de la volupté et de la mort. Can we in any way understand that this is the first film he reworked at the beginning of the Eniaios project?

Du sang, de la volupté et de la mort is the earliest film incorporated into Eniaios, but it was not the first film that he edited for Eniaios. For a long while he was not certain whether he would include the trilogy1 in Eniaios. Then he found how he wanted to re-edit it and has placed the re-edited version in the first cycle of Eniaios.

Is there any kind of correspondence between the material we can see in each one of the first cycles of Eniaios and the chronology of his filmography?

Outside of the trilogy being in the first cycle, I can see no correspondence between the chronology of his filmmaking and the order of films in Eniaios.

An illustrative example: someone who knows well a film like Twice a Man, perhaps one of Markopoulos’s most seen works… What would he find of it in Eniaios?

There are four reels of images from Twice a Man in Eniaios, in the film orders IV, VIII, XV and XIX.

Do you think that, regarding the previous films, their previous “incarnations” have been “discarded”?

Not for me. I see them as two separate works. Markopoulos acted as if he thought they were discarded. He probably had to think that, but then at one point he said that it might have been a good idea, if we had made internegatives before he began editing Eniaios!

It’s been written that Eniaios could be thought as an “incomplete file” or a “ruin”. Do you agree with that?

Sometimes, when I am in Greece, or when I think about Hellenism and relate it to the fragile state of the Eniaios film originals, in which most of the tens of thousands of film splices need to be redone before the films can be printed, the thought of “ruin” takes on a special meaning. But I do not think that either terms describe this work correctly.

Could this “ruin” idea also be related with The Temenos environment in Greece?

When I think of the Temenos environment, I think of the generosity of Nature…

The black & white “frames” are present all over Eniaios? Is it true that they do not only respond to an structural program, but rather open themselves as a dream space?

Some films are edited using only lengths of black between the chosen images. The reels of The Illiac Passion for example. Other films have both black and transparent film between the images. I would say they have both a structural program and are a dream space.

In some films, Markopoulos overexposed or underexposed the frames or he made superpositions, all with the camera. Are these effects preserved in Eniaios?

Yes, these effects (overexposed or underexposed frames, superpositions) are preserved in Eniaios.

Why the so-called “dedication to Herakles”? And why is Eniaios cycle IV entitled Nefeli Photos? What does the title refers to?

The so-called dedication reel is of the archeological site, Pyra Heracleos. And the Eniaios IV cycle’s title Nefeli Photos refers to the light of the moon.

Is it true that Gammelion is the film that looks the most like Eniaios?

Gammelion is a very important step along the way.

Is it true that the shots normally last for a few seconds, and sometimes a single frame?

Frequently, a single frame.

What is left from the three axes of research of Markopoulos -interpretations of literature or mythological sources, portraits of individuals and studies of locations or architecture- in Eniaios? Have these axes disappeared or have them been reinforced?

All three thematic sources are present in almost each cycle.

At the editing of Eniaios, did Markopoulos go back to the rushes of all his previous films?

He went back to the films that he had already edited. Not all of them but most.

What was the difference between those sequences he had edited in the editing table and those others he had assembled in the camera?

This needs a more precise answer than I can give you. There is an organic quality resulting from the in-camera editing that results from filming within a single location. The way of filming with superimpositions meshes elements together to create new metaphors. It also possesses other rhythms.

Did Markopoulos conceive Temenos as the only possible place to project Eniaios or was he open to the possibility that the cycles were projected elsewhere?

The Temenos was conceived as the only place.

 

_____________
13 of Gregory Markopoulos’s 32 films

_____________
Christmas, U.S.A. (1949)
‘Gregory J. Markopoulos’ 1949 work, Christmas, USA is a trance film that pretends, at least, on the surface to be a film about the central figure’s homelife. At the beginning of this completely silent film (shown originally without musical accompaniment) we see a handsome male wanderer in an amusement park, “The Cavalcade of Worlds” wandering through the park through the various rides (a merry-go-round, a ferris wheel, etc), through the back alleys of freak shows, and past the dance and music halls of “Little Harlem.” At the same time, our young hero awakens, washing, putting on a fashionable bathrobe, and later shaving. He receives a phone call and speaks for some length. We observe another boy wandering, this time through a woods, dressed in a Japanese robe, lighting what appears to be a ritual lamp, while the boy on the phone continues to play with a letter opener and other nearby objects, which also appear, through Markopoulos’ editing, to be somewhat ritual in nature. Are these the same person, including the man we’ve seen meandering through the amusement park?’ — Douglas Messerli

the entire film

 

__________
Swain (1950)
‘Features a dreamlike narrative of a young man’s ritualized rejection of heterosexuality, as a mysterious woman in white gossamer pursues him through a ruined landscape.’ — Arlessdeg

the entire film

 

________________
Twice a Man (1963)
‘Twice a Man re-invents the Greek myth of Hippolytus, killed after rejecting the advances of his stepmother Phaedra. The story is transposed, and deeply transformed, to 1960s New York. Here Paul, a contemporary Hippolytus, envisions fragments of the most relevant relationships in his life: his seductive mother, shown in both a younger and an older version, and his male lover, named the Artist-Physician and representing the creative self. With sharp, richly textured and sensuous colours, the images displaying thoughts and memories of the characters interweave in a brilliantly innovative montage, the point of reference always sinuously shifting from one persona to another and almost evoking an intertwining of identities.’ — Eleanora Pesci

the entire film

 

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Galaxie (1966)
‘In March and April of 1966, Markopoulos created this filmic portrait of writers and artists from his New York circle, including Parker Tyler, W. H. Auden, Jasper Johns, Susan Sontag, Storm De Hirsch, Jonas Mekas, Allen Ginsberg, and George and Mike Kuchar, most observed in their homes or studios. Filmed in vibrant color, Galaxie pulses with life. It is a masterpiece of in-camera composition and editing, and stands as a vibrant response to Andy Warhol’s contemporary Screen Tests.’ — letterboxd

 

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Ming Green (1966)
‘In early spring of 1966, in anticipation of his eventual departure from the Greenwich Village apartment in which he had been living for a number of years, [Markopoulos] filmed the revelatory seven-minute interior portrait Ming Green , titled for the deep spruce color of the apartment’s walls. Ming Green was edited entirely in-camera, and its precise rhythmic blossoming is based on overlapping dissolves and longer flashes, rather than single-frame clusters. The film’s complex harmonic structure, however — as well as its incorporation of often static, “single” images that may be comprised of more than one frame — echoes the montage techniques developed in Twice a Man (1963). Interweaving mementos with foliage, color, and light, Ming Green suggests the inextricability of past and present: despite its exquisite lightness, it could represent the passage of hours and days rather than minutes.’ — Kristin Jones

 

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The Illiac Passion (1967)
‘Throughout his life, Markopoulos remained closely connected to his heritage and made many works that connected with ancient Greek culture. The Illiac Passion, one of his most highly acclaimed films, is a visionary interpretation of ‘Prometheus Bound’ starring mythical beings from the 1960s underground. The cast includes Jack Smith, Taylor Mead, Beverly Grant, Gregory Battcock and Gerard Malanga, and Andy Warhol appears as Poseidon riding an exercise bike. The extraordinary soundtrack of this re-imagining of the classical realm features a fractured reading (by the filmmaker) of Henry Thoreau’s translation of the Aeschylus text and excerpts from Bartók’s Cantata Profana. Writing about this erotic odyssey, Markopoulos asserted that, “the players become but the molecules of the nude protagonist, gyrating and struggling, all in love, bound and unbound, from situation to situation in the vast sea of emotion.”’ — Mark Webber

the entire film

 

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Himself As Herself (1967)
‘The young hero seems the essence of maleness, yet he’s troubled by vaguely feminine objects. Soon his masculine and feminine selves are intercut, as each of his identities appears to look and gesture at the other. The film, at once melancholy and transcendent, consists of a shimmering, nearly plotless evocation of gender identity in flux through haunting, densely interlaced images.’ — Letterboxd

Watch the film here

 

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Through a Lens Brightly: Mark Turbyfill (1967)
‘A short film directed by Gregory J. Markopoulos in 1967, shot on 16mm, depicting the life of Mark Turbyfill—a dancer, poet, and painter from Chicago.’ — bleakoutput

the entire film

 

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Gammelion (1968)
‘Markopoulos’ elegant film of the castle of Roccasinibalda in Rieti, Italy, (then owned by patron, publisher and activist Caresse Crosby) employs an intricate system of fades to extend six minutes of footage to an hour of viewing time. This inventive new film form, in which brief images appear amongst measures of black and clear frames, was a crucial step towards Markopoulos’ final work Eniaios (1947-91). Though seemingly an abstract architectural study, Gammelion is based on Julien Gracq’s surrealist novel Chateau d’Argol, and incorporates elements found at the site to represent the characters and events of the book’s narrative. This was the first film Markopoulos made after relocating to Europe. This exquisite portrait of the interior of a Byzantine church on the island of Hydra was composed in-camera in the moment of filming.’ — The Visible Press

the entire film

 

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(A)lter (A)ction (1968)
‘Videotape, black-and-white, sound; 65 minutes.’

The film can be streamed here

 

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Sorrows (1969)
‘Capturing both the history and decay of a chateau built for Wagner, Markopoulos builds a rhythm collage of images with contrasting depth – deep shots of forests overlayed with close ups of what could either be chipping paint or bark with a slow transition to the interior of this once private and secluded mini-palace. The images themselves can be frenetic and overwhelming, but by setting them to the tune of Beethoven they almost form a sort of dance. Markopoulos also interpolates focal points of light throughout the film, often forcing you as the viewer to recenter your attention for the next ‘scene.’ The light play he creates with the windows near the end is really beautiful, almost strobe-like.’ — Ryan Carroll

the entire film

 

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Portrait of Gilbert & George (1970)
‘Gregory Markopoulos’ Portrait of Gilbert & George (1970) is a film marked by absence. Though a portrait of the artistic duo, the film indulges in none of the privileging of visibility on which the genre of portraiture often rests… The flow of movement, so crucial to most films, is missing. In its place is a rigorous engagement with the medium’s most basic elements, one that returns the viewer to the stillness of the individual film frame.’ — Erika Balson

 

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Eniaios (1991)
‘Markopoulos’ monumental final film, the silent 16mm Eniaios (meaning “unity” and “uniqueness”), is made of 55 completely new films as well as re-edited footage from most of his previous films, and meant to supercede them as an integrated epic work. Eniaios contains 100 individual titles in 22 cycles, or orders, of three to five hours each. Many Eniaios imagesare only one frame (1/24th of a second) long, and all are bracketed and isolated from each other by intervening lengths of black and white leader. The unit of the single frame and the still image were preoccupying, essential elements of cinema for Markopoulos: “It is, perhaps, a fallacy to believe that film is constant movement.” He conceived of the spacing among the flickering images in Eniaios with the Greek god of healing Asclepius in mind, in the hopes of nurturing in his spectators a therapeutic form of incubation akin to the sort sick pilgrims experienced by sleeping and dreaming in the god’s temple. He “imagine[d] himself a member of an emergent, select order of psychic healers…possessing the skill to subliminally plumb the pre-verbal mysteries of an archaic past,” Kirk Winslow wrote.

‘Markopoulos spent the final decade of his life working on Eniaios, and created it exclusively for the Temenos site. It was fully edited and notated when he died in 1992, but not yet printed. In 1980, a handful of foreign guests and dozens of visitors from the region, including six priests and their families, had attended the first open-air Temenos screening—a “symbolic effort in [the] direction” of Markopoulos’s ultimate vision.7 Early September screenings continued annually until 1987 (when Beavers and Markopoulos turned their attentions to editing and archiving), followed by the Eniaios premiere (Orders I and II) in 2004 and the second screening (Orders III–V) in 2008. And at the end of this month, about 200 spectators from around the world will gather in Arcadia to see Orders VI, VII, and VIII over the course of three nights.’

This film is an eye-witness of the 2016 Temenos edition

 

 

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p.s. Hey. ** Dominik, Hi!!! You’re most welcome. True, with older films, and nothing wrong with young filmmakers wanting to update the representation of that experience to suit the newer and newer world, but, and I can only speak for myself, coming out was just one of the ways that everything that has ended up mattering to me started. It was just the recipe. But I guess it’s easier to represent than the complex aftermath. After Eights are worth bursting for, or almost. Love being asked to interview Isabelle Huppert for a magazine and saying no, G. ** Darbz 🕷️, Hey! Actually it’s a real dog that was trained to play dead for a lengthy amount of time. Welcome home! Yay re: your rich trip. Coney Island, aww, I haven’t been there in decades. The Animals as in the ‘House of the Rising Sun’ Animals? That’s the only Animals band I know. Hm. I’ve been to Greenlight Books. I think I might’ve even done a reading there. Why are they being so stingy with the testosterone? Fuckers. The only for sure upcoming festival is Frameline in SF in June. But the film is submitted to literally 23 festivals at the moment, and we’ll see how lucky we get. I’ll spread the word when/if we get good news. ‘Chungking Express’ is very cool. I really like ‘Fallen Angels’ by the same director if you want another one. Eat that food this week obviously. ** Derek McCormack, Derek, yay! I’m so happy to have made a successful introduction. Yeah, she’s very clever, no? How are you, great sir? Let’s talk soon. ** James Bennett, I’m sure you got whatever there was to get from ‘Nocturnes’, Onwards. I don’t think I’ve ever read Kingsley Amis. Strange. Let me know if I should proceed. I like the storyline, obviously. And the cover seems to have just the right subtle degree of pedo bait. And the view around it is very British somehow but, wait, is that a palm tree? So how’s it all going? ** _Black_Acrylic, Really glad you like it. Yeah, her John Miller collab excited me too. My life in LA used to revolve around going to art openings. The vast majority of my LA friends were/are artists. And LA being such an asocial, sprawling locale, it was often the only way to see them. ** scunnard, Thanks, pal. In a way, the italicised text was perfect for this … let’s be honest … very lengthy place. ** Carsten, Cool you’re working on the scripts. Sounds super interesting. Um, script-wise, we don’t do improvisation. Sometimes a line turns out not to work in practice so we’ll change or cut it on the spot, but otherwise that part is pretty locked in. With the filming, the shots are set and storyboarded before we shoot, but, if we have time, we do change the shots on set if some bright, better new idea springs to mind in the actual situation. ** Misanthrope, Based on what you say, I would imagine the division will receive your work with wide eyes full of expressions of wonder, and their hands will dip into their pockets as they scurry to tip you. ** julian, Obviously, you being in control of your own music videos is ideal. If you’re going to visualise your music that should be your form as much as the sound aspect. In a perfect world. I think both of the possible Chicago festivals take place in the fall. Fingers crossed. It would great to meet you too. Maybe a SD university would show the film. We’ve shown our fiims at universities before, and that tends to go really well. I’ll look into it. ** Sypha, Hey. My assumption is that the Neo-Decadent writers are at least 50% grandstanders. I can’t believe Justin, for instance, actually believes all that stuff he spouts, but who knows. I liked your interview. Very provocative. Very appropriate. ** pancakeIan, Thanks. ‘Finnegan’s Wake’ is … an experience. But, yes, perhaps not one you would enjoy. I have a fetish for really complicated writing, so it hit the spot for me albeit at excessive length. I have a chip on my shoulder from people never-endingly expressing shock that I haven’t read Proust and declaring that I won’t have had a full life without reading Proust before I die and so on, and my refusing to read him feels very punk, and I like it. ** Steve, Hi. Yeah, sure, agree. I’m just a person who thinks self-identification is a malleable thing, so deciding one is queer is like checking something off your list. Not wholly surprised to hear that about the Pulp album, but unfortunate. I like the new Stereolab album but it also feels like Stereolab doing Stereolab. ** Steeqhen, Nicotine gum fucks up my stomach, but your experience may differ. True, but I suspect that most people only want the films or TV or books or whatever they imbibe to be slop. God knows that, post-internet, the chance to find and experience adventurous stuff is easy enough to do for everyone. Income streams help everything, sadly. ** HaRpEr //, Your observation makes total sense and is not remotely stupid. You, stupid? Psshaw! To me what makes ‘120 Days’ a great novel is that Sade ran out of time such that it ends to with those unfinished to-do lists. Those lists and the writing in them is what’s really innovative about the book. People have argued that that mistake is the father of post-modern literature, and I think they have a point. Yes, all the luck needed for your reading tonight. Wish it was being streamed, or … is it? And pass along a Leigh Bowery report if you see that show. I’m seriously grring over here that I’m going to miss it. ** Bill, Happy that her stuff hit your home. Wait, that event already happened? What did you do for it? It sounds pretty rich in the description and artist list. Nice. ** Right. The blog’s old Gregory Markopoulos Day had fallen into disrepair and other films of his had become available post- its original appearance so I have gussied it up and enlarged it, and that’s your viewpoint for today. See you tomorrow.