Malcolm Le Grice once wrote a piece called 'The History we Need' (it was for the English catalogue of the exhibition Film as Film - conceived and first staged by Birgit Hein and Wolf Herzogenrath in Koln 1978 and expanded for the Hayward gallery in 1979). Malcolm was writing as a film-artist - and I suspect the 'we' in his title was 'we' the filmmaking community. But he was basically asking the question, where does this art come from? What is its past? And 20 years on the question is still a good one. While the almost universal presence of the moving image in museums and galleries today delights me, I'm sometimes astonished at the way in which this medium is presented and discussed as if it has no past; as if the filmmaking artist had been immaculately conceived at some point in the mid 1990s. So I'm going to talk about the history we need but will address this question directly to the museums that hold our national art collections, and which have the responsibility of bringing together the past and present.

Which moving images should we expect to see in our national collections?

This brings with it the inevitable next question, where should we draw the boundary between artists' film & video and the rest of cinema?

I'm going to confine my discussion entirely to British work, because this is the history I know best, and to the role of our British collections, primarily the Tate which holds the national collection of British Art, although the challenge should be equally addressed to the other British collections, those of the Arts Council and the British Council.

I'm going to show some clips to help make some points and I must apologise for the fact that I'm generally showing just 20 seconds from works which should be seen at their proper length.

[Works referred to below were illustrated in the clips]

I'm going to start with the easy bit, the British work that is in our national collections.

Portrait of the Artists as Young Men Gilbert & George 1972

Deadpan Steve McQueen 1990

At the Tate, the earliest moving-images in the collection are three films by Gilbert & George dating from the early 1990s [this was their 'Portrait of the Artists as Young Men' of 1972]. There's then a long silence till the Tate acquires two films by Mona Hatoum and one by Susan Hiller in the mid 1980s, and the collection only really starts growing in the mid 1990s with the arrival of Steve McQueen, Douglas Gordon, Gillian Wearing et al. [That was a shot from Steve McQueen's 'Deadpan' of 1997].

The Arts Council collection contains a little more of the film work associated with Conceptual art in the early 1970s; works by Darcy Lange, Liliane Lijn, David Dye as well as Gilbert & George. It has one work from the 1980s, by Rose Finn-Kelcey, but again only really begins to gather steam in the mid 1990s.

If you were to characterise the work already in these collections, it's a history of moving-images conceived for the gallery rather than any other kind of space but it is also very much a history of the commercial galleries and their interest in the moving image. It reflects the fact that there was (briefly) a market for the moving-image in the early 1970s (or at least a belief that there might be one), and that there certainly wasn't a market in the 1980s and early 1990's, but that one finally took off in the mid 1990s.

But the moving image didn't disappear from galleries in Britain between Conceptual art and YBAs. There's a second history of gallery-based work made in the 1970s, 80s and 90s. This is the history of the commissioning and exhibiting policies of artist-run and publicly-funded galleries in Britain such as the ACME Gallery, 2B Butler's Wharf, the Air Gallery, Serpentine and ICA in London, the Arnolfini Gallery in Bristol, the Ikon in Birmingham, the Museum of Modern Art in Oxford, etc, etc. These were the key players in the late 1970s early '80s. It was in these galleries that the film and video installation as we now know it - single-screen, multi-image or mixed media - was born. And yet despite the fact that the work produced in these venues during these decades was designed for the gallery space, it is almost wholly absent from our national collections. Indeed after Film as Film, Chrissie Iles's Signs of the Times exhibition at MOMA in Oxford in 1990 and Live in Your Head last year at the Whitechapel (which looked at the period 1965-75) are the only occasions I can think of when a major venue took a serious look at any part of this history.

(Preparing for this talk, I was tempted to focus exclusively on the role of the ACME gallery in the 1970s early 1980s, which showed an astonishing amount of film and video installation-work along-side performance and painting in its few years of existence; there's a compelling exhibition to be made which reviews the work of just that one small space).

Progressive Recession David Hall 1974

Four Projected Movements drawings Anthony McCall 1975

Any kind of documentation of these shows is rare, but to give some sense of this work [and perhaps to raise the issue of documentation] I'm going to show images from two artists from the 1970s (neither from the ACME sadly), and two artists from the 90s (the latter as a reminder that this important commissioning/exhibiting role of the publicly-funded galleries and agencies continues today). My examples here are a poster-drawings by Anthony McCall for the event Solid Figures ('Fire Cycle' & 'Line Describing a Cone') organised by MOMA Oxford in1974 and the drawings on his invitation-card to Four Projected Movements at the Serpentine in 1975. And here, rare footage from David Hall's 'Progressive Recession' of 1974 again at the Serpentine - a piece that uses live feed from nine cameras to the monitors beneath them - to set up expectations of what you'll see - only to frustrate them. (A piece as important in the evolution of British video art as Bruce Nauman's 'Going Round the Corner' was to the American scene, only a little earlier). My more recent examples are Simon Biggs's 'Shadows' 1993 installation at Truman's Brewery in Brick Lane. The figures interact with the spectators, either moving towards or away from the viewers, according to the programme set by the artist. And John Wood & Paul Harrison's multi-part installation 'Obstacle Course' of 1999 at the John Hansard Gallery, Southampton. [These recent works were both commissioned and toured by the Film & Video Umbrella].

Shadows Simon Biggs 1993

Obstacle Course John Wood & Paul Harrison 1999

There are two other kinds of moving image that first appeared in the 1970s that are associated with these public-sector galleries. One is live-cinema, (film combined with performance), and the other site-specific work. My examples here start with documentation of Malcolm Le Grice's 'Horror Film' of 1971, a live performance with three projectors and loops of film originally performed at Gallery House [this recording was made at the recent re-staging at Live in Your Head]. And Malcolm's 'After Manet', a long film for four projectors of 1975. As a site-specific work here is 'Wounded Knee' of 1985 by the artists group Housewatch which filled all the windows of a house at Claremont Road in East London with projected Super-8 images. [The section featured in the clip is by artist George Saxon ]. Very different is Judith Goddard's 'Television Circle / Electron' of 1987, a multi-monitor piece designed for a forest in the middle of Dartmoor. And finally, Susan Collin's 'Pedestrian Gestures' of 1994; a very quiet interactive video projection piece, installed in Hull railway station.

After Manet Malcolm Le Grice 1975

Pedestrian Gestures Susan Collins 1994

Clearly, it's my view that this history of installations, performances and site-specific work should be recorded and represented in our national collections in some form. Some installations are easy to re-create, but the examples I've shown also illustrate some of the problems that will arise. The technology used by David Hall's 'Progressive Recession' is now completely obsolete. Do you try to fake it with modern equivalents? Malcolm Le Grice may not be with us for ever to perform in 'Horror Film', and a site-specific work such as Judith Goddard's 'Television Circle' misses its point when removed from the forest location for which it was conceived. Yet it is important that this work is not lost to history. My own view is that you re-stage it when you can [and record your-restaging]; fake the technology if you must, and start collecting documentation, such as the McCall drawings, for showing in glass cabinets, if that's all that's now possible.

My third and longest history is of film/video made for the single-screen and the darkened room: of artists' cinema, work made for the single monitor, and television. This is work that in the British context first shed its light at the London Filmmakers Co-op, London Electronic Arts, the ICA, on domestic TV sets, etc. I'm going to give some sense of the range of this work in 14 clips that together last less than five minutes.
Alexander Premio - 'Liverpool Docks' 1897
Chris Newby - 'Stromboli' 1990 -1997
Guy Sherwin - 'Bicycle' from 'Short Film Series' 1980
William Raban - 'Thames Film' 1984
Kenneth Macpherson - 'Borderline' 1930
Isaac Julien - 'Long Road to Mazatlan' 2000
Ian Bourn / Helen Chadwick - 'End of the World' 1982
Jayne Parker - 'Crystal Aquarium' 1989
Mark Wallinger - 'Angel' 1997
Rose Finn-Kelcey - 'Glory' 1982
David Lamelas - 'To Pour Milk Into a Glass' 1972
Peter Gidal - 'Upside Down Feature' 1972
Oswell Blakestone & Francis Bruguiere - 'Light Rhythms' 1930
Lis Rhodes - 'Light Music' 1975

For reasons of time, in this montage I've run together 3 histories of single-screen work: those of artists' cinema, artists' video, and artists' work made for television. Each has its own challenges in terms of presentation, which should inform the way we show them in the museum context. (It's worth noting that even within the category of film-work made for the cinema-space, artists have had very different thoughts about the presentation of their work. The American avant-gardist Maya Deren saw her own films as 'chamber cinema': small films to be shown to small groups in small spaces. At the other extreme Andy Warhol wanted 'Chelsea Girls' to be shown in big cinemas. In London he told me he wanted the London Pavilion cinema at Piccadilly Circus because it was where the 'Carry-On' films he so admired were shown).

Clearly, this history of single-screen work is where the artists' moving-image overlaps with cinema and TV's mainstream, and indeed I have no difficulty in accepting that this work deserves its space in the schedules of the National Film Theatre, the Lux, any cinema where real films are shown, even on TV. But today, and particularly here, I'm arguing that this single-screen work should also have its space in the exhibitions and collections of our museums.

To Pour Milk Into a Glass DavidLamelas 1972

Upside Down Feature Peter Gidal 1972

If you look at the way in which the body and performance have been considered by British artists in the 20thc, how can you ignore the films of Jayne Parker [the underwater footage] or the collaborations by Ken McMullen & Stuart Brisley or Tina Keane ? If you are looking at representations of landscape and the city in Britain, how can you avoid the films of William Raban [the river images and sounds] not to mention Chris Welsby or Patrick Keiller; Conceptual art in Britain without David Lamelas [the milk and glass] and John Blake, [and, I'd argue, Peter Gidal [the upside down imagery plus text]. Going back in time, how can you discuss modernism in Britain in the 1920/30s and not include 'Light Rhythms' [the light-play with the piano score] or 'Borderline' [the psychodrama with Paul Robeson]? Not to mention Len Lye? And so on.

Fragments of this single-screen history have indirectly made their own way into the gallery. Mark Wallinger's 'Angel' came into being simultaneously as a television piece and as single-screen installation at the Anthony Reynolds gallery, and is now in both the Arts Council and Tate collections. Isaac Julien's 'Long Road to Mazatlan' [which may yet win him the Turner prize] was conceived by the artist in two versions, one single-screen for cinema, the other triple-screen for the gallery. In both these cases, Julien & Wallinger, the gallery version appeared in a limited edition. A rather different example of this migration to the gallery is 'Crystal Aquarium' by the film-artist Jayne Parker. This work was originally conceived for TV, but was later bought by the Arts Council collection, initially for inclusion in the touring show 'Sublime'. A recent - and challenging - example is 'Flex' by Chris Cunningham. [not illustrated] Cunningham is a feature-film art-director, and maker of remarkable music-videos. 'Flex' was commissioned but apparently shelved by Channel 4, then 'adopted' and presented by the d'Offay gallery as an installation, and simultaneously included in the Royal Academy's show Apocalypse. I dislike the Cunningham and love the Parker - but in both cases I applaud the positive-action taken by the curators to bring the work into the gallery. (I've been inspired by the Cunningham example, and began my last sequence of clips with a section of the 'Panorama of Liverpool docks taken from the electric railway' of 1897 by the Lumiere brother's cameraman Alexander Promio - who is my nomination as Britain's first film-artist).

Liverpool Docks Alexander Promio 1897

Crystal Aquarium Jayne Parker 1989

What was particularly encouraging about the Jayne Parker example is that it shows a national collection buying a film made for TV without requiring the artist to re-invent the piece as an installation. Appropriately for a work made for TV, 'Crystal Aquarium' was shown in 'Sublime' on a monitor, (though it was shot on film, and certainly benefits from cinema-style projection). Equally importantly, Jayne wasn't required to issue her work in a limited edition - which seems to set another hopeful precedent. If artists want to continue to control the distribution of their work in un-limited editions - and are prepared to accept selling to museums at a lower price as a consequence, isn't that their right? Other national collections such as those of the Pompidou in Paris and MOMA in NY don't share what seems a British institutional obsession with limited editions.

My concluding point is simple. These two histories, that of gallery-based work from the 1970s to the 1990s and the longer history of single screen work made by artists for cinema, the monitor, or for television, both deserve their place in our national collections along side the work of our painters and sculptors. There will inevitably be debate about who should and shouldn't be included? (Even who is and who isn't an 'artist'? - Is it Chris Cunningham or Alexander Promio?); how far to embrace fiction and the feature film (think Derek Jarman), or even the documentary (think of the painters who contributed to the British documentary film movement of the 1930s)? And we can continue to argue about the best methods of showing work in the museum - on a monitor, in a black box, or in a cinema-space within the suite of galleries? But the real achievement will be to bring this work into the collections so we can begin to construct a more complete picture of the moving image as art; its past and its present.

David Curtis