Showing posts with label Galeri Petronas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Galeri Petronas. Show all posts

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] 

Monday, July 14, 2025

Notes from an exhibition of Orang Asli wood sculptures I co-curated in 2000



Introduction to Animism

“A myth is a projection of an aspect of a culture’s soul. In its complex but revealing symbolism, a myth is to a culture what a dream is to an individual.” ~ David Adams Leeming, A Dictionary of Creation Myths (1994)

Perumal by Jah Hut artist Hassan
What is animism all about? What exactly does a pagan believe? Animism derives from anima, the Latin word for soul. Orang Asli believe that the world was created when Universal Spirit – the One Primordial Soul (Tuhan) – split into many souls. These lesser souls or spirits began to explore different dimensional possibilities, each identifying a unique form to inhabit and, in the process, devolving from the subtle (halus) to the dense (kasar). Human beings (manusia) operate midway between these extremes – acting as conscious or unconscious intermediaries between the Seen and Unseen Realms, between the material and spiritual domains.

The animist views the landscape as the manifestation of Universal Spirit. However, certain forms – whether mineral, vegetable, tree, animal, bird, fish, river, or rock – are more aware of their spiritual pedigree and are thus considered sacred (keramat). Whilst others, turning their figurative backs on their divine source, constitute the malefic and ruffianly ranks of predatory ghosts, imps, and vampires (hantu, jin, langsuir).

Ebrahil by Jah Hut artist Mat Idris
Because the animist perspective is essentially multidimensional and holistic, time is experienced more as a spiral than as a linear progression. Unlike the modern outlook, there is no assumption that the new is inherently superior to the old, that the future is somehow more valuable than the past. To be called “primitive” is therefore quite meaningless to the Orang Asli, even though the obtuse offensiveness of such a label may be acutely felt – especially when they live in close proximity to other communities that have wholeheartedly embraced consumerism and all its attendant foibles.

Indeed, many Orang Asli elders are inclined towards the opinion that modern man has fallen from grace; that we now find ourselves collectively living in a paradise lost. Our remote ancestors, they say, lived in a far richer reality, with access to a much wider range of the electromagnetic spectrum. There are legends that speak of the spiral stairway between heaven and earth being shut down by the gods to stop humans from infecting other worlds with pestilential greed and ruthless ambition.

As with many other cosmologies – for instance the Mayan and the Hindu – the indigenous cultures view our much-vaunted Age of Reason and Scientific Materialism as a long, spooky trip through the Galactic Night (Kali yuga or the Nine Hells) before our re-emergence into a New Evolutionary Dawn wherein humanity shall once again live in cooperative harmony with Nature.

Jah Hut artistry on display

Orang Asli society, while mostly egalitarian, recognizes hierarchical status according to an individual’s mastery of knowledge (ilmu) – be it esoteric or exoteric. Traditionally the tribal chief (batin) was also a shaman who guided the community’s inner life; but in recent days the choice of a batin largely depends on the candidate’s ability to read and write and effectively function as an intermediary between community and state.

In animist cultures the shaman (bomoh, dukun, pawang) is a master of many arts, and all art derives from magical ritual. Ceremonial songs, weavings, dances, carvings and masks were originally a means to link up with the spirit realms – not ornaments for barter or sale in the market.

But aesthetic or magical values are not necessarily destroyed by commercial considerations. Almost all art today is influenced to a degree by economic factors. The test of good art is that it transcends the monetary value attached to it. That it retains the innocence and spontaneity of a creative act inspired by the unschooled imagination.

Good art stimulates not only the external senses but also the remembrance of other lives and other worlds. Good art reconnects us with our indigenous roots, our primeval selves. It feeds our yearning for the mysterious and the numinous.



ASLI ~ An Exhibition of Wood Sculptures from the Anthony Ratos Collection @ Galeri Petronas, April-May 2000

Curator’s Statement

“Indigenous art is essentially governed by religious beliefs and ceremonial rituals. For inspiration, the artist looks to his surroundings. His creation is not purely aesthetic. It is a greater expression of the living social reality in which he resides. Gods, spirits, landscapes, natural phenomena, animals, and even fellow human beings provide him with the material to invoke a world where the mundane meets the mystical, where the simple meets the complex. It is a world where art and artist merge as one.” ~ Anthony Ratos, The Orang Asli of Malaya (1999)

Mah Meri artist on Carey Island
ASLI brings to you a rich collection of wood carvings produced by members of the Jah Hut and Mah Meri tribes in response to the active encouragement of Anthony Ratos, former art teacher and deputy director of the Orang Asli Affairs, and a well-known promoter of their cultural traditions.

For Anthony Ratos, an initial encounter with Orang Asli at the tender age of 12 led to a lifelong love affair with these simple, fascinating, jungle folk. 

Indeed, the term “Orang Asli” was first used in 1952 by Ratos, in a thesis he wrote while at Kirkby Teachers’ College in Liverpool. As a teacher in Maxwell Secondary School, Kuala Lumpur, Mr Ratos coordinated a two-year field study of Orang Asli culture by the senior students, which yielded a book and an exhibition.

In 1958, while seconded to the Pahang Orang Asli Affairs Department, Anthony Ratos saw Batin Hitam, headman of the Jah Hut tribe, carving a wooden doll from pulai wood to replace his 5-year-old daughter’s broken plastic plaything. Batin Hitam was using a crude rattan-cutting knife with such obvious skill that Mr Ratos decided to provide him with proper carving tools and a commission to depict the tribal pantheon in wood. This, according to Anthony Ratos, was the genesis of the Jah Hut wood carving tradition.

In the course of his visits to the Mah Meri settlement on Carey Island, Mr Ratos persuaded a few villagers to try their hand at wood sculpture. The results were astounding. Within a year enough carvings had been produced by the Jah Hut and Mah Meri to merit an exhibition of 82 pieces at the National Art Gallery in Kuala Lumpur. This was followed by a second exhibition two years later. Since then Jah Hut and Mah Meri wood carvings have been exhibited in Germany, Australia, and India.

Mr Ratos himself is an avid collector of these spirit-charged wood sculptures and masks, and over the decades he has acquired nearly 600 exquisite examples of Orang Asli artistry.

The Anthony Ratos collection of Jah Hut and Mah Meri wood carvings is truly a national heritage of immeasurable worth. As we enter a new millennium, it is fitting that this unique artistic, cultural, and anthropological treasure be shared with the widest possible audience.

Antares
Exhibition Curator

The Anthony Ratos Collection

Who is Anthony Ratos?

Datuk Anthony Ratos
The son of a silent movie musician from Bombay who migrated to Kuala Lumpur, Anthony Ratos was born in Bukit Nanas on November 2nd, 1932. During the war years (1942-1945) young Ratos enjoyed fishing in the Gombak River to supplement the family’s meager diet. This was where he first met the Orang Asli, who gladly shared with him their fishing and foraging secrets.

In 1952, as a trainee teacher at Kirkby College, U.K., Anthony Ratos chose to write his thesis on the aboriginal peoples of Malaya. He described them as “Orang Asli” (original people). This was subsequently adopted as the generic term for all indigenous tribes in Peninsular Malaysia. His interest in and personal involvement with the Orang Asli did not end there. As an art teacher at Maxwell Secondary School, Kuala Lumpur, Ratos coordinated a two-year student project which yielded a book and a special exhibition on Orang Asli culture.

Genesis of a Wood Carving Tradition

A Jah Hut elder
From 1958 to 1963 Ratos served as deputy commissioner of Orang Asli Affairs in Pahang, where he discovered the latent wood carving skills of a few members of the Jah Hut tribe. Before long Ratos was encouraging members of the Mah Meri tribe on Carey Island to experiment with wood carving tools. The results were astonishing. And little wonder, as both tribes are said to originate from the Celebes Islands where totem-carving is an ancient tradition. The Mah Meri wood carving and ritual styles are, in fact, very similar to that of the Balinese.

Anthony Ratos kept buying finished wood sculptures from the Jah Hut. He offered his early collection for an exhibition at the National Art Gallery in 1960, followed by another two years later which showcased a few Mah Meri sculptures and masks. This is how the modern tradition of wood carving began among the Jah Hut and Mah Meri tribes.

Meanwhile, Ratos had become a successful entrepreneur, pioneering the latex glove industry in Malaysia and helping to establish a thriving medical franchise. A man of wide and varied interests, Anthony Ratos also collects peafowl and artifacts from little-known cultures. Over the decades he has written numerous newspaper articles and books on his lifelong love affair with the Orang Asli. Indeed, many of his weekends are still spent visiting Orang Asli friends in remote areas in his Frontera 4X4.

Mah Meri master wood carver
The Anthony Ratos Collection Seeks a Permanent Home

Today the Anthony Ratos collection of Jah Hut and Mah Meri sculptures and masks is worth literally millions. But its true worth as an artistic, cultural and anthropological legacy is immeasurable. 

Mr Ratos has indicated his desire to hand the entire collection to any institution that can guarantee future generations the opportunity to be acquainted with these superb examples of Orang Asli artistry and provide a decent, permanent home for them.

NOTE: One would think the National Art Gallery would be delighted to inherit the Anthony Ratos collection. The reality on the ground is disturbing indeed. Our cultural bureaucrats are extremely timid when it comes to embracing Orang Asli culture, mainly because it is rooted in what they consider paganism (which isn’t part of “Malay culture” in their books).

The next best solution, one would think, would be the new Orang Asli Museum (reportedly constructed at a staggering cost of RM33 million and officially opened in June 2000) located miles from the city center in Gombak, on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. On closer look, however, it soon becomes evident that the ones entrusted with the responsibility of documenting and preserving Orang Asli culture are, in fact, embarrassed by and often antagonistic to it. Which may explain why the museum is almost inaccessible to the casual visitor, located as it is in an area where public transport is scarce.

Sophisticated "primitivism"
In private conversation, Anthony Ratos expressed to me that he did not trust the Orang Asli Affairs Department (renamed Jabatan Kemajuan Orang Asli or JAKOA in 2010) because it is now run by bureaucrats with absolutely no interest in or passion for all things Orang Asli. Indeed, the fact the agency was renamed the Orang Asli Development Department suggests that the Malaysian government would like the Orang Asli to assimilate into mainstream Malay culture, thus strengthening the Malays’ claim to indigenousness.

Colin Nicholas, director of the Center for Orang Asli Concerns, once remarked to me that JAKOA shows scant interest in educating the Orang Asli about their own traditions. The fact that a librarian assigned to the Orang Asli museum (ironically renamed Museum JAKOA in 2013) was a school dropout who never studied beyond Primary Six vividly illustrates their cavalier attitude towards Orang Asli affairs.


A British tourist expresses disappointment
[Most of the photos were taken from Google Images. If you happen to know the photographers, kindly leave a comment here & I shall duly include credits. First posted 5 May 2014. reposted 1 July 2015]