Jonas Mekas is fond of saying that in Lithuania he is known as apoet; in Europe, as a filmmaker; and in America, as a maverick. He isall of those things, but the last has earned the 84-year-old,Lithuania-born filmmaker the epithet “Godfather of American Avant-GardeCinema.”

It’s a title well deserved. Following the second world war, Mekasand his brother Adolfas emigrated to New York, where over the course ofthe next three decades, he pioneered the genre of Diarist Cinema, withfilms such as Walden (Diaries, Notes, and Sketches) (1969), Lost, Lost, Lost (1976) and Reminiscences of a Journey to Lithuania (1971-72). His works are lyrical mixtures of first-person experiences, fiction, documentary, commentary and experimentation.

An influential figure beyond his own films, he founded the groundbreaking magazine Film Culture in 1954, began writing for the Village Voicetwo years later, and co-founded The Film Makers Cooperative in 1962 andAnthology Film Archives in 1970. He has remained at the vanguard offilmmaking throughout his almost six-decade career, embracing newformats and continuing to experiment. His most recent project is aseries of video Podcasts that he began on Jan. 1, 2007, for which hewill post 365 short films over the course of a year.

Mekas is also the subject of a current exhibition at P.S.1Contemporary Art Center in New York. Bringing together film, video andtwo series of stills, “Jonas Mekas: The Beauty of Friends BeingTogether Quartet” celebrates the filmmaker’s relationship with New YorkCity and its personalities—from Andy Warhol and George Maciunas to JohnLennon and Jacquelyn Kennedy.

The centerpiece of the exhibition is the multi-channel installation Four Quartets (2007), composed of The Destruction Quartet, The Education of Sebastian, or Egypt Regained, Farewell to SoHo, and Martin Scorsese: An American Filmmaker at Work and offers Mekas’ impressions of everything from changing neighborhoods to Hollywood filmmaking to the events of 9/ll.

ArtInfo recently caught up with Mekas in Greenpoint, Brooklyn todiscuss the P.S.1 exhibition, his thoughts on digital video and hisimpressions of contemporary New York.

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Jonas, your exhibition at P.S.1 marks the first time that the work in the installation Four Quartets have been shown together. When did you decide to incorporate them into one piece?

When [the curator] Phong Bui approached me about doing theexhibition, I was thought it would be a good idea to arrange it aroundthe number four, and most of the pieces in the show are constructedmore or less like quartets. There are 10 plasma screens, and each oneof them shows fours pieces. Then there are 40 portraits and 40 New Yorkimages arranged in rows of 10 by four. It’s all in fours.

Each of the plasma screens plays a DVD of four pieces createdfrom decades of footage. What was your editing process like when youwere piecing them together?

I have thousand of images [from the films] collected on slides, andit is a reduction and elimination process. I am always joking with myfriends that “Rimbaud had illuminations, but I have eliminations!” Ibegin with a huge amount and then I reduce, reduce, reduce until I havewhat I want.

I conceived the project for this exhibition as a dedication to NewYork and my friends, and how I love New York and I love my friends. Itwas easy to eliminate everything else and just stick to the subject ofthe show.

Speaking of huge projects, in January you started posting a series of 365 Podcasts to your Web site…

And I’m sticking to it!

I will reach the end, and after the end of 365 days, I may do 1,001 nights!

It seems like a very literary undertaking. What inspired the project?

It came about by chance. Maya Stendhal gallery, which represents me,had the idea to have an Internet site, www.jonasmekas.com, and besidesall the earlier material that you can see on my site, I thought, “howcan I deal with more current material?”

Then I remembered that many artists made a work every day. Petrarcawrote 365 poems to Laura, and the playwright Pirandello wrote 365 shortstories—at least, he wanted to, but he did not finish.

So, in any case, I thought, “why don’t I try to make one everyday?”—as a challenge and an adventure. I still don’t know how it willdevelop.

What do you think of the iPod as a viewing experience in comparison to a theater or a gallery?

I think that if new technology is available to filmmakers, then whynot use it? Because film as film, or celluloid, is not acceptableanymore. Very few places can show them anymore. Universities, museums,they’re all on DVD. You can’t even show VHS. So you have to use newtechnologies, which is good because you can reach everyone everywhere.My 365 podcasts are being downloaded in Japan, in Sao Paolo, in Alaska.

When you’re making new work, do you think about how it will beseen? Do you consider whether the film will be seen on an iPod inBrazil or in a theater at Anthology Film Archives?

Looking at movies in the big movie houses was a different experiencefrom looking at these small screens, but I never think about how itwill be received. I get involved in what I’m doing, and I don’t thinkabout how it will be seen at all.

Does working with digital video change the way that you approach making work?

Yes. To me it’s more down to earth and less abstract than film. It’ssomehow more human. I like that all the new video cameras permit me tobe very close to reality, to the here and now while I’m recordingsomething.

I know that other artists—I don’t like to call myself anartist—other filmmakers or other makers may think it works in the otherdirection. I don’t want to speak for them. But I’m interested in thefact that I can record what is right now and here and happening whileexperiencing it.

What keeps you looking back to footage taken three or four decades ago and incorporating it into new projects?

I don’t think about the past. I’m here and now.

When I use old material I always reinterpret it from a differentperspective, which I think makes it richer because past and presentcombine. One example would be my award presentation, Dedication to Andy Warhol (1964),which is part of the 40 films on view at P.S.1. The image is from ’64,but my commentary is from now. I see it from a different perspective,so it’s richer than just showing it with music by the Supremes, whichis how I usually show it.

In addition to your friends, the city of New York also figuresprominently in the P.S.1 exhibition. What do you think of the city as aplace to live right now—creatively and socially?

It has changed a lot, but memories of the old New York are stillwith me, and I like the new as well. Now I’m in Greenpoint, Brooklyn,and I like Brooklyn. I like any place I am so long as I can getinvolved with new people, new bars, new places to meet.

What makes the present interesting is that memory is alwaysincorporated into the present. It’s like when you meet a person. Thatperson is not made up of just today, but has all of his or herpreceding experiences as well, which is what makes that personinteresting. And that’s what makes New York interesting.

New York is very alive. It’s like a chameleon: it’s changing, but it’s always very real.