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Rick RubinA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In Chapter 19 Rubin defines the act of creating as a participation with past, present, and future artists. Art is also a collaboration with the self, the audience, the medium, and one’s personal experiences. Likewise, an artist’s popularity may wax and wane, and art appreciation is subjective. Rather, if the artist is happy, and if the audience feels stimulated by a work, nothing else matters. According to Rubin, notions of correctness and incorrectness do not exist in art. However, one fact that artists should always remember is that they “are never alone” when making art (91).
Chapter 20 says that all art requires intention. The intention is the purpose of the work, derived from an unconscious attunement to the artist’s selfhood. The art expresses the artist’s connection to a higher order. Rubin compares the artist to an orchestra conductor, directing the manifold symphony of the universe in their own unique way. Artists may not be conscious of this process, but they will inevitably work in harmony with it.
In Chapter 21 Rubin defines artistic principles as guidelines to be learned, manipulated, and expanded. Specifically, he refers to rules as assumptions that artists should continually question. Rubin insists that “[a]s soon as a convention is established, the most interesting work would likely be the one that doesn’t follow it” (98). Rubin also cautions that innovations can become rules. When artists break rules, they must be careful not to adhere to that innovation in all their work, otherwise the art becomes stagnant. Challenging one’s own creative process is key. All rules should be tested, broken, and reestablished in a continuous cycle of experimentation, as the artist “has nothing to lose” (103).
Chapter 22 advises artists to practice creativity in antithetical forms, such as sculptors creating nonphysical pieces as digital or conceptual works in order to learn. Rubin says the examination of methods and consideration of the opposite protocol will enhance the artist’s creative capabilities.
Chapter 23 finds Rubin referencing Buddhist principles. Listening means paying attention to all sounds, and Rubin believes that, as the ears do not close, humans remain aware by nature. Rubin insists that the practice of listening puts artists in touch with themselves and the universe. He advocates for listening to music without headphones because these devices create the illusion of isolation: “Real-world listening” from speakers immerses the listener in the “full sonic spectrum of vibration” (110).
Rubin prizes focused communication without judgment or bias: “To listen impatiently is to hear nothing at all” (111). Conscious listening frees artists from limitations.
Chapter 24 discourages taking shortcuts, especially during periods of learning and creating, as this deprives the artist of the challenge of experiencing something transformative. Rubin recommends careful reading and rereading. Approaching experiences as enjoyable opportunities for learning creates artistic awareness: “Patience is required for the nuanced development of your craft […] for taking in information in the most faithful way […] and for crafting a work that resonates and contains all that we have to offer” (115). Rubin believes that patience is an achievable, necessary habit in life and art. Artists who realize this will learn to call a project finished only when they feel truly satisfied.
Chapter 25 uses the ancient Chinese game Go to describe the importance of openness. In recent years, the company, AlphaGo, created an artificial intelligence (AI) to play Go, believing that no computer could handle the strategic complexity of the game. Scientists designed the self-taught AI to run through tens of thousands of past, simulated games. In a famous match with a Go grandmaster, the AI made a decision that baffled its competitor and the audience. The move appeared to be a direct line to failure, but the scientists and players soon realized that the AI had performed a brand-new, winning move. Through this example, Rubin highlights the beginner’s mind, a Buddhist concept of eagerness and openness without adherence to traditions or styles that often leads to innovation.
Chapter 26 discusses the spontaneous production of art and the deliberate exposure to greatness for creativity. No matter its development, inspiration, like its Latin root inspirare, meaning “to breath into,” needs space (127). Rubin recommends meditation, deliberate breathing, time in nature, and intentional distraction to create the space for inspiration. Moreover, Rubin warns readers that inspiration is unpredictable: It is a random and energizing phenomenon. To open oneself to inspiration, Rubin proposes “varying your inputs” by watching a film with the sound off, listening to the same song repeatedly, reading only the first word of sentences in a story, and learning to lucid dream (129). Once artists are hit with inspiration, they should “ride the wave as long as it can be ridden” and surrender to this communion with the universe (130).
In Chapters 19-26, Rubin places emphasis on creating with intention, thus emphasizing the theme of Creativity as a Way of Life. Artists practice their crafts with intention to instill purpose in the work. Rubin likens the importance of intention to the story of a man inefficiently drawing water from a well to enhance his experience of quenching his thirst. The parable conveys Rubin’s teachings by emphasizing the protagonist’s practice of patience during a mundane task. The protagonist represents the intuitive, emotional, and self-aware artist. The antagonist of the story, a man who questions the deliberately unproductive technique of the old man, stands for the intellectual and logical individual who tries to force artistic creation through rationale and reason. As a major theme of The Creative Act, creativity as a way of life requires awareness, intuition, patience, and intention, as embodied through this brief story. This theme complements the discussion of a creative practice, which should take many forms so that artists can experience the full range of their artistic potential. The deliberate contrast of methods—and the practices of rule-breaking, collaboration, and implementation of habits—comprise some techniques of the creative practice. Moreover, creativity as a way of life requires a curious and open approach to experiences and materials, a perspective grounded in Zen Buddhist Philosophy.
Zen Buddhist philosophy inspires the areas of thought that include Chapter 23, “Listening”; Chapter 24, “Patience”; and Chapter 25, “Beginner’s Mind.” In “Listening,” Rubin says the ringing of a bell in Buddhist meditation practice draws the listener back into the present moment, thus stressing that artists should nurture an awareness of the present world. Rubin expands on this idea in “Patience” when he writes that “we can participate [in physical and mental activities] either on autopilot or with focused intention” (114). Rubin emphasizes the importance of mindfulness, another tenet of Zen Buddhist philosophy, in all aspects of art and life. Nowhere is this more apparent than in “Beginner’s Mind,” a title most likely derived from Shunryū Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, which serves as a foundational text of westernized Zen Buddhism. In this chapter, Rubin recounts the story of an AI computer beating the grandmaster of the 1,000-year-old Chinese game, Go. Because of the computer’s lack of preconceived notions about the way other players competed, the AI chose the least conventional strategy, leading to its victory. Rubin uses this compelling story to persuade the audience that approaching the world with curiosity and openness, along with intense and disciplined practice, ultimately leads to greater connection and apprehension of The Source. With this access, the artist can tap into greatness through the self-expression in art. Again, no citations appear in this section, and his authority relies not on professional history, but rather, on his interpretation of the story. Rubin’s persuasion therefore operates by deriving meaning that aligns with his overall argument that eagerness and a lack of preconceived notions empowers artists. Likewise, Rubin’s tone in this section continues the conversational tenor found throughout The Creative Act: The stories Rubin tells feel up close and personal, as though he were sitting and describing them in person. The Creative Act capitalizes on its own status as a non-academic text that professes the inherent uncertainty of its own recommendations. In a way, Rubin and his book self-justify their teachings through the admission of ambiguity. The book recommends trusting in ambiguity, using one’s own intuition to make determinations about whether or not to take the advice presented in The Creative Act. As such, the self-reflexive quality of Rubin’s rhetorical style aligns with the text’s purpose and message.