Thursday, July 23, 2026

THE INNER TECHNOLOGY OF ART: Making Public the Private (repost)


A paper presented by Antares at Sidang Seni 2001, Galeri Petronas’ first annual conference on the arts, March 24-25, 2001

ONCE IN A WHILE it helps to sit back and think about things like Art – and what it actually means to be called or to call someone an Artist. We could think about the earliest evidence of human artistic activity, found before the outbreak of the First World War in southern France: the famous paleolithic cave paintings of Lascaux, said to be more than 30,000 years old, which largely depict the primal mystique of the hunt (and which in recent years have come under controversial scrutiny). 

The scholar Joseph Campbell, in Primitive Mythology, describes these prehistoric artists as shamans: medicine men and women who worked as intermediaries between the mystical and practical worlds, whose private visions - projected into public ceremony and ritual - could effect profound change in our lives by impinging upon our perceptions.

Then, as now, the shaman-artist served as a visionary of the sacred, a medium connecting the various dimensions, a transducer of spirit into matter and vice versa, a vital link between metaphysical and physical. His ability to merge the inner world of dreams and symbols with the outer world of the hunt made him a healer and a seer, gifted with initiatic and prophetic authority.



Australian aboriginal creation myths speak of archetypal ancestors, closely linked to specific animal lineages, singing the landscape into being as Songlines. The spiritual world is a vibratory essence which can materialize itself by lowering its frequencies. Physical reality is but a shadow of the metaphysical.

Interestingly, this idea of earthly existence as a shadow-play is the central metaphor in Plato’s famous Allegory of the Cave, wherein he describes the unawakened consciousness as a prisoner chained in darkness, kept enthralled by an illusory pageant of animated shadows enacted by an invisible priesthood. Precisely the technique employed in the Wayang Kulit tradition, still practised in former colonies of the Majapahit Empire.

The imaginative interplay of light and dark creates all drama – a word associated with dreams and nightmares.

From Plato’s Cave to Wayang Kulit to the Magic Lantern and George Lucas’s Industrial Light Magic is a mere progression of technological sophistication. A father amusing his child by creating animated shadows with his hands is drawing on a very ancient artform.

These days the same father (especially if his name happens to be George Lucas or Steven Spielberg) would have access to computer-generated digital images which enormously enhance his power to project his imagination to a remote audience of millions. The art of entertaining and enthralling an audience is akin to hypnotism (or to an ancient Javanese magical practice known as pukau, by which means the victim is involuntarily put into a paralytic trance, thereby allowing the practitioner to do as he will as long as the spell lasts).

Disregarding the superficial changes in the technology of art, the primary tool of the artist will always be his imagination. The secondary tool of the artist might be a stick with which to draw figures in the sand, a brush with which to paint, a chisel with which to chip away stone, a flute on which to blow, a lute on which to strum, or a computer with which to sequence an electronic fugue. Technology, after all, is essentially the evolution of tool-making and using. A gripping tale can be told with only an eloquent tongue – or with an extravagant panoply of son et lumière effects. Without the artistic imagination, Creation itself would not exist, nor would the concept of a Creator. We have been told that God made man in his image; the artist intuitively knows that the reverse equally applies.

To imagine is to create an image on the screen of one’s mind – and this act of imagination, when focused through the clear lens of willful intent, is a magical performance which can effect a transformation on all levels. Thus the artist-shaman-magician has always been a source of fascination and fear. His powers of creation and projection make of him a god or demon, depending on his mood and inclination. And indeed, in days of old, the visionary power of the artist-shaman often gave him tremendous influence over his tribe. It was only recently – in the last 13,000 years or so – that brute strength gained ascendancy over mind, and the warrior muscled his way into dominance. The gradual erosion of archetypal pantheons and monarchies has facilitated the rise of the merchant-entrepreneur, whose crude Time-is-Money credo rapidly became the ‘Bottom Line’ over the last few centuries.


Commercialism and industrialism now threaten, alas, to turn Art into just another economic activity – and the Artist’s ceremonial and magical rôle into a purely ornamental one.

No doubt a certain superstitious awe still attends the artist’s endeavors; but in the Age of Consumerism, the artist-shaman’s contribution to the success of the hunt has been reduced to churning out effective advertising and public relations for the vulgar new gods of materialism - or fashionable new trends for the children of the privileged.

AT THIS JUNCTURE, we must examine the complex interactions between the inner and outer self of the artist. Paradoxically, what begins as a unique experience ultimately transforms itself into a universal truth through the exercise of the artistic imagination and will.

A personal encounter with grievous loss and emotional distress, for example, can be transmuted into art – in the form of a novel or a symphony or a painting or sculpture - and thereby shared with society at large. The skillful selection of linguistic, visual, auditory, olfactory or tactile symbols that will compress a complex experience into communicable or transferable form is what constitutes the inner technology of art.

The word technology itself derives from technique – which may be classified as “hardware and software” in modern parlance. Tools are hardware and, as such, are utterly useless unless one is also equipped with the necessary knowhow, the software. A simple case in point can be seen in the evolution of writing utensils - from chisel or quill or brush to chalk or crayon or ink pen; from manual to electric typewriter, to electronic word processor – all in the course of a mere 6,000 years.

And yet, the use of a high-powered computer does not provide any creative edge over the use of a goose quill. Would Shakespeare or Mozart, for instance, have done more inspired work if they had had access to “better” tools? Indeed the sonnets and plays of Shakespeare have survived the centuries better written in ink on parchment than they would have as digital code on magnetic disks – just as Mozart’s masterpieces have better lasted the centuries on paper than they would have on acetate or vinyl or optical disk.


Perhaps a digression is in order here: when politicians speak of “Smart Schools” they invariably have an image of students being plugged into a network of expensive computers. The big budgets are reserved for the acquisition of high-tech hardware rather than human software (in terms of dedicated and conscientious and innovative educators). This is a classic case of putting the cart before the horse, of valuing packaging above content, of idolizing form devoid of spirit, of exalting style above substance.


The unfortunate fact is that, in the last 500 years, businessmen and bureaucrats have quietly forged themselves into a freemasonry of secular authority – wresting control of human destiny from the sacred visionaries, the healers and the seers, the artists and philosophers.

No one can stop the pragmatic businessman or bureaucrat from having visions – but it is almost inevitable that their pragmatic visions would tend towards the ridiculous rather than the sublime, the crude rather than the subtle, the ugly rather than the aesthetic. Instead of making public the private, their basic instinct is to make private the public, thus spawning an atmosphere of hypocrisy and secrecy conducive to criminal conspiracy rather than creating the climate of openness and trust necessary to greater social cohesion.

This is the great quandary in which the modern world finds itself. Industrial society’s pursuit of Quantity has blinded it to Quality; the entrepreneur-merchant’s quest for and obeisance to the “lowest common denominator” makes him favor the numerous above the numinous, the secular above the sacred.


Democracy is misconstrued as being allowed to choose from a wide range of political candidates or consumer products.

The ancient nobility has been rudely supplanted by a clamorous cadre of status-seekers who have no qualms about using ignoble means to achieve their myopic ends. A newly ascended plutocracy of soulless materialism appears to have usurped the traditional aristocracy of spiritual values.


Perhaps this was an inevitable development. The artist-shaman is acutely individualistic and on the human level is more prone to ruinous competitiveness than any athlete or warrior. Could it be that the golden age when art and philosophy reigned triumphant abruptly ended when artists and philosophers became too isolated in their ivory towers and lost direct contact with the grassroots? Is that why there has been a pronounced swing towards community arts as a new context in which the artist can once again feel connected with his or her tribe? Contributing positively towards greater cohesion and healing is possibly the most creative option available to the artist-shaman at this point in evolution.

As human consciousness becomes more engrossed with density, darkness and discontent, the urge to destroy grows more compelling than the urge to create.

Hindu mythology offers us a helpful metaphor by postulating the archetypal trinity of Creator-Destroyer-Preserver – Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu. The dynamic principle of 3 defines many processes, even in the atomic world of nuclei, electrons and protons.

The eternal quest for truth is ultimately three-pronged: Science represents the left brain, Art the right brain, and Spirituality the heart. Only a creative convergence of all three prongs can lead us to self-mastery and wisdom. In the biological world the trinity of Mother, Father and Child underlies all life cycles. What the Mother creates, the Father destroys, and the Child preserves – even as we emerge from the past into the present, and project ourselves into the future.

The conclusion we may draw from this is that our greatest hope now resides in the upcoming generation: whether it has the ability and agility to avoid growing up like the corrupt and morally bankrupt Father and propel itself an octave higher in aesthetical and ethical awareness, attaining the mystical baraka or Heaven’s Grace - and regaining thereby the artistic key to a new paradigm of paradise on earth.

Antares © March 2001
“Art is a means of connecting two worlds, the visible and the invisible, the physical and the spiritual. The area of our consciousness where culture has its roots lies in the uncontrolled mind of every individual: in the moment when it is given space to make a creative leap. Artists, scientists and spiritual masters alike have great respect for that particular faculty of our human potential. It is in the realization of each individual’s intuitive creativity that everybody would agree with the statement, everyone is an artist." ~ Louwrien Wijers

“art as awakened warriorship... art as a dynamic agent of planetary transformation... art as a foundation for global peace...” ~ José Argüelles


“Culture is shared meaning in which everybody participates.” ~ David Böhm

“Our true capital is our creativity.”
 ~ Joseph Beuys

"It's far too late for anything but magick, as the future is clearly up for grabs."
 ~ Antero Alli

[First posted 4 October 2008, reposted 26 February 2017, 19 February 2019 & 8 November 2021] 

Wednesday, July 22, 2026

Sahara Yaacob ~ songs from an unrecorded album


SAHARA YAACOB



Original Music by Tommaso Cecere
Words by Antares Maitreya
© 1995




GO CRAZY (TILL THE BREAK OF DAY)


every night when the light goes out
i'll be thinking about you
i don't know what it is that i miss
but it's something about you
i'm goin’ crazy
think i’ll slip on my high-heels &
go dancin’ till the break of day

i've been told that the man in the moon
is an old has-been
he used to work in hollywood
cleaning out the stars’ latrines
i'm goin’ crazy
think i’ll slip on my high-heels &
go dancin’ till the break of day

well it's hard to be a red-blooded woman
and a lady too
people talk behind your back
regardless of the facts
no matter what you do
i'm goin’ crazy
think I’ll slip on my high-heels &
go dancin’ till the break of day

let the bad old world spin around on its tail
i'll only show you what i can unveil
i'm doin’ all i can to help &
hoping that my strength won’t fail (won't fail won't fail won't...)
i‘m goin’ crazy (baby)
think i’ll slip on my high-heels &
go dancin’ with the devil till the (goddamn) break of day
("hey let's go! crazy! till the break of day!")



SINCE I FOUND YOU

friends all say
i should run away
or pay the price
don't know why
every time i sigh
i end up crying

i have to decide
if this feeling inside
is what i'm hiding
from myself
but however i try
i just can't deny
i find i'm climbing much higher
since i found you
life's been so full
so beautiful joyful & true

[CHORUS:]

WHERE DO YOU COME FROM?
SOME HEAVENLY SPHERE?
I'M SURE THAT YOU'RE NOT FROM HERE
WHERE WILL YOU TAKE ME?
WHAT WILL YOU MAKE ME?
WHY DON’T I FEEL ANY FEAR?
HOW CAN I PLEASE YOU?
I NEVER WILL CEASE TO
THANK YOU FOR EASING MY WAY
NOW THAT YOU'RE NEAR ME
I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME
WHISPER MY LOVE IN YOUR EAR

[SPOKEN:]

Teach me the language of angels
So I can share the secrets of your heart
My Beloved,
Soul of my Soul,
We’re One, you and me,
United and free
From now till eternity

friends wanna know
why there's a glow
from my soul
so hard to explain
but I’ll sing you
this sweet refrain

i have to confess
i’m at a different address
and my new home
is where i can rest
but however i try
i just can't deny
i find i’m climbing much higher
since i found you
life's been so full
so beautiful joyful & true

[REPEAT CHORUS]



TIT FOR TAT

you can call it luck
or you can say it's fate
you can call me a lady
or you can rake up the muck
well i found out the hard way
the world’s not an easy place
for a girl who wants to have her say
‘cos they only see your pretty face

HYPOCRITES & ARISTOCRATS
I SHOW YOU A TIT IF YOU GIVE ME A TAT
HYPOCRISY’S PART OF DEMOCRACY
HEY DON’T YOU KNOW IT’S TIT FOR TAT
BULLSHIT! DON’T YOU GIVE ME THAT

I’m an advocate of love - mmmmm - not hate
and i have had enough of your purr-litical debate
some folks like to open doors
some defecate on floors
then they’ll accuse you of some crime
when they slip and fall in their own slime

[CHORUS X 2]

i’m an advocate of love - baby - not hate
and i have had my fill of your furr-natical dictate
some folks like to open doors
some defecate on floors
then they’ll accuse you of some crime
when they slip and fall in their own slime

you can call it luck
or you can blame it on fate
you can call me anything you want babe
frankly i d0n’t give a f--k
well i found out the hard way
that the world’s not an easy place
for a girl who wants to have her say
they want to see a pretty face

HYPOCRITES & ARISTOCRATS
I’LL SHOW YOU A TIT IF YOU GIVE ME A TAT
HYPOCRISY’S PART OF DEMOCRACY

HEY DON’T YOU KNOW IT’S TIT FOR TAT
TIT FOR TAT
TIT FOR TAT
BULLSHIT! DON’T YOU GIVE ME THAT




MY LOVE IS AN OCEAN
   
all my life
I’ve been trying to find
someone who can see
what's on my mind

but all this time
I’ve been so blind
that someone i was looking for
was right behind

in another life we shared a love so true
we were such a perfect pair - me and you
in another world we would have dared to fly
higher, much higher than the sky

all my days
I’ve been waiting for you
to come back
into my life
but i can't stay
I’m on my way
i hope we meet again
in some other play

i do know
when it’s time to go
I’ll be calling out your name
hoping you’ll answer
wherever you are
you’re never too far
‘cos you and i we’re closer
than lovers

PEOPLE SAY THEY KNOW
WHAT LOVE IS ALL ABOUT (“It must be your hormones, honey”)
THEY THINK IT’S SOME KIND OF WISHING WELL
YOU CAN FALL IN AND OUT OF
BUT IF YOU TAKE A LOOK DEEP INTO MY EYES
YOU CAN SEE THAT MY LOVE IS AN OCEAN
THAT WILL NEVER DRY
(“Why don’t you try it?”)

but i can’t stay
i’m on my way
i hope we meet again
in some other play

i do know
when it’s time to go
I’ll be calling out your name
hoping you’ll answer
wherever you are
you’re never too far
‘cos you and i we’re closer
than lovers

[REPEAT MIDDLE EIGHT]

in another life we shared a love so true
we were such a perfect pair - me and you
in another world we would have dared to fly
higher… much higher... than the sky



CAN’T JUST CARRY ON 
(SPREAD YOUR WINGS AND FLY)

i’m amazed that you never
seem to get any wiser
you think you’re so clever
you don’t need to be any nicer
well here’s some news for you
from a friendly adviser
fact or fiction - truth is stranger
everything’s gonna change
we can’t just carry on (“seriously, people!”)
can’t just carry on

it won’t be business-as-usual
at the market exchange
you know trust must be mutual
or we’ll all get rearranged
well won’t be long now
time to right ‘em wrongs now
don’t throw stones at strangers
everything’s gonna change
we can’t just carry on (“you better believe it, baby!”)
can’t just carry on

I JUST GOT A LETTER IN A RECYCLED ENVELOPE
IT SAID THE WORLD WILL BE SO MUCH BETTER
WHEN WE LIVE IN LOVE AND HOPE
WORKING CLOSE TOGETHER
AND NOT JUST TO GET AHEAD
LIKE BIRDS OF A FEATHER
WE GOTTA FLY OR WE’LL BE DEAD
WE’RE BIRDS OF A FEATHER
GOTTA FLY OR WE’RE ALL DEAD
FORGET EVERYTHING AND SPREAD YOUR WINGS
GOTTA FLY OR WE’RE ALL DEAD
SPREAD YOUR WINGS AND FLY
SPREAD YOUR WINGS AND FLY
WE CAN’T JUST CARRY ON (“NO WAY, JOSÉ!”)
CAN’T JUST CARRY ON (“WE GOTTA STOP IT NOW!”)

everyone’s in the same old boat
whether you’re rich or poor
some people are sheep and some are goats
and with some you can’t be sure
we gotta be ready
when the angels open up the door
so don’t turn away the stranger
arriving at your shore
we can’t just carry on (“hell it’s been going on too long!")
can’t just carry on

[REPEAT BRIDGE]

we gotta be ready
when the angels open up the door
so don’t turn away the stranger
arriving at your shore
we can’t just carry on
can’t just carry on (“oh no!”)
can’t carry on now (“i’m not putting you on!”)
can’t just carry on
can’t keep on carryin’ on (“c’mon, do something!”)
can’t just carry on



  
I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE
  
people on the street
rushing round on their feet
looking down upon themselves
searching for someone else
every day smiling away
i can see a thousand people
with nothing to say

show me what i’ve got to do
how do i get through to you
little colored lights before your eyes
nobody seems to realize
every day filing away
i can see a million people
trying to earn their pay

don’t please i can’t stand it anymore
round and round and round gets to be such a bore




ON MY OWN AGAIN
  
i don’t see your face at the window
as i turn the key in my door
i don’t hear your voice from the kitchen
asking how did everything go

a man comes on the radio
saying it may rain tomorrow
makes no difference to me
i’ll pour a drink & watch tv
on my own again

i’ve been glancing at my bedside phone
almost hoping for a ring
i can see myself hesitating
why don’t we leave well enough alone

but what can i say to you?
that i still care for you?
is there a way to deal with the pain i feel?
i know i can heal
on my own again

("it’s only pain - big deal - take it away!")

but what can i say to you?
that i still care for you?
is there a way to deal with the pain i feel?
i know i can heal
on my own again

i can smell your hair on my pillow
there’s a footprint on my bathroom floor...

a man comes on the radio
saying it may rain tomorrow
makes no difference to me
i’ll pour a drink & watch tv
on my own again




WHAT CAN I DO?

well i know the kind of person you are
i’ve been patient but you’ve gone too far
that look on your face only says you’re a liar
hey don’t waste my time get out of my car
i have been fooled before
don’t give me shit no more
so mister now’s the time for you to go
but please do me a favor don’t slam the door

i should have listened to my dear old mama
my life wouldn’t be such a melodrama
she always told me not to take any chances
you wanna get married don’t count on romances
you gotta get yourself a real job
drop freddy billy harry & bob
you gotta save up your dollars
girl don’t respond to callers
behave like a snob

WHAT CAN I DO?
I’M MAD ABOUT YOU
I FEEL SO ALONE
CAN’T SLEEP ON MY OWN
I WANT YOU TO STAY
JUST ONE MORE DAY
THEN MAYBE I’LL LEARN
TO TURN AWAY (FROM YOU)

well i know the story you’re gonna tell
you say you’re sorry but what the hell
where have i heard that before?
i’m not going to be your fool no more
so mister now’s the time for you to go
but please do me a favor don’t slam the door

[REPEAT CHORUS x 3]



I emailed Tommaso Cecere in the hope that he still possessed a copy of the cassette with the music he wrote for Sahara's debut album of English songs, but he still hasn't responded (sure hope he's okay).

On 20 July 2026 I was prompted to fish out the lyrics and feed them to the marvelous machine called Suno v4.5 and it took a little tweaking and repeat efforts but the results were pretty gratifying 
(to my ears at least). If you stumble on this post by chance, Tommaso, please get back in touch!

[First posted 27 March 2018]







Sunday, July 19, 2026

THE CHRISTOS MYTHOS (revisited)

Cosmic Serpent by NahimaArt
Subject: [magickriver] The Christos Mythos
Date: Sat, 03 May 2003 13:07:01 +0800
From: Antares
Organization: Magick River
To: Magick River Network 



This is in response to Sherry's incisive comments about the "Christ" mystique and how it fits in with our innate ability to free ourselves from external control mechanisms, reclaim our self-governing, self-navigating skills, and regain self-mastery through self-knowledge.

At 14, I attended a Presbyterian Sunday School on a fairly regular basis but, by the age of 15, had begun seriously questioning everything that was preached. At 16, I was generally agnostic, verging on atheistic - indeed, I was fond of describing God as an Atheist!

And yet, throughout my entire adolescence (or perhaps even when I was 7 or 8) I remember chatting telepathically with an entity I called "Jesus" (my mother was a Methodist, my dad a freethinker) in my own childish way. By the age of 15 or 16 I was aware that this "Jesus" character was actually my own Higher Self - a really kind and wise entity, totally accepting and extremely cool, never scolding or judging, just happy to be my best friend.

At 19, I found myself staring (completely stoned on marijuana) at my own reflection in the mirror and coming to a sudden conclusion - nay, an explosive revelation - that "Christ" was not a personal name, "Christ" describes a state of being or consciousness. And that state can also be called Universal Compassion or All-Embracing Love... what Buddhism calls the Bodhisattva, the next step beyond Buddhahood wherein the enlightened soul vows to remain in embodiment to serve those as yet unawakened. From agnosticism I crossed over into my own species of Gnosticism and began to devour all manner of esoteric knowledge. Mythology became "Mytheology" and History became "Mystery." "Jesus" became "Yeheshuah" (IHShVH) = "The Word Made Flesh" or Spirit-as-Matter (and vice versa).

Later I began to understand other implications of Christhood: that it was a mystical force denoted by a specific syllable or syllables - "Chi-Rho" or "Kri" - found in Sanskrit as "Krishna" and "Kris"; in Greek as "christos" or "crestes" - and that it was a code for a complex mythology involving Divine Rulership and the idea of Evolutionary Perfection, as in the Crest of a Wave, or the Family Crest. Some etymological research yielded the notion that the idea of Anointment - the ritual preparation of a candidate for a Heroic task or ascending a throne by massaging his or her body with fragrant unguents, known as "chrisma" in Greek (which may well be connected with the word "charisma") - was subliminally associated with the practice of greasing meat before grilling it, which may sound grisly to the modern sensibility but which has deep roots in all Sun-god myths wherein the deity is sacrificed to nourish his or her tribe - as in the Hiawatha legend or the Feast of the Eucharist.

[I just received an email from Ramsha suggesting that the word "christos" can be traced all the way back to a a Vedic term meaning "semen." Stands to reason: Christ as Divine Impregnator, Cozmik Hyperzoon, Sacred Groom, etc]

Anyway, to keep this brief, I discovered many more levels to the idea of the Christ than is to be found in conventional Christianity - and since I view Christhood as the state of being towards which all humanity is aspiring, it was only natural that I used the term Christos as a code name for my Core Self. In other words, the Christ for me is not some deity to be worshiped but a state of initiatory consciousness to be attained through direct experience. That's why I have no problem with the expression "Christ consciousness." It's something we're all going to experience sooner or later.

I'll begin typing out the chapter on the 'Three Christs' from Ashayana Deane's VOYAGERS II. If I can get it done tonight, it will be posted tomorrow

I was excited by the information revealed therein because I've long felt that there was a multidimensional mystery yet unsolved in the entire Palestine Project that initiated the advent of the Christian Era. But no one had a grip on the whole story. Ashayana's version may not be all there is, but to my mind it's a good start, and much of it feels right to my cellular memory.

With love,
Antares
~xXx~


[First posted 3 December 2006, reposted 20 December 2013 & 17 July 2023]