The Creative Act: A Way of Being

Chapter 54 advises artists who typically wait for strikes of inspiration to shift their creative approach to a more patient one. By focusing “less on the lightning bolt and more on the spaces surrounding it,” artists can observe, evaluate, and manipulate the conditions for inspiration (289). Prior preparation and dutiful follow-up after an artist has a lightning bolt moment of inspiration can allow the frequency and quality of these epiphanies to increase. Rubin admits that some great work emerges from these lightning bolts, while others require craft, effort, and time. However, great art is not contingent upon either of these options. Instead, great art emerges when artists engage wholeheartedly in the process of creation.

Chapter 55 describes how the life of the artist is divided into the “work of doing” and the “work of being” (295). Creativity is a way of life that requires all of one’s effort and being. Soon, the creative life takes over, and the rhythms of curiosity, discovery, inspiration, and creation become natural and daily. “Staying in it” means awareness of the universe, commitment to openness, and pursuing beauty, in whatever form, in the act of creation (296).

Chapter 56 develops ideas of spontaneous inspiration. The quality and appeal of an artwork is not contingent upon its spontaneous or methodical creation. In fact, Rubin writes that the “story of spontaneity can be misleading” (300). These narratives often omit the amount of practice and preparation that artists undergo to create their most impressive works. Rubin’s solution to manage the perception of spontaneous creation is to find balance. Sometimes, art will be produced instantaneously in flashes of artistic brilliance. Yet, more often, the work will take time. Either way, the point is to do the work. On the one hand, there’s no plan, process, or logic that can be derived from the artistic process. Trust in the natural activity of creation is paramount. Rubin proposes that artists use spontaneity and patience to their advantage. The lack of preparation and or meticulous research beforehand can lead to new techniques that inspire innovation. Rubin endorses an endless and detailed note-taking practice. Notes allow artists to return to ideas that have potential.

Chapter 57 provides readers with advice on the artistic directions necessary during the act of creation. Rubin asks: “How do we decide which direction to take? How can we know which choice will lead us to the best possible version of the work?” (305). The answer is relational. The assessment of a choice can only be made in relation to another option. Rubin recommends a form of A/B testing, where artists limit the options for each test down to two choices, as additional choices can muddle the process. The artist must follow the natural feeling of excitement within the body. Making the A/B testing blind will enhance the selection process. When at an impasse, Rubin recommends a coin flip. However, the choosers should not weigh their decision on the outcome. Instead, while the coin is in the air, the chooser should attentively notice which outcome they wish would happen: “This is the option to go with” (307). When making decisions in art, the conscious mind should be turned off. Instinct, feeling, and subconscious whim will guide artists better than logic or intellectual reasoning. Likewise, after a work is completed, no amount of decision-making can ensure the best possible version. Trust that the artistic impulse is enough to reach the destination. After that, the artist must move on and work on the next project.

Chapter 58 discusses the proportions of the artistic process. Two seeds of inspiration can yield wildly different end products, and one tiny detail can impact a piece more than a total overhaul. Again, trusting the process and letting the creative instinct guide is key to an artist’s decision-making.

Chapter 59 assures readers that thoughts of doubt within an artist’s mind are unimportant. In fact, Rubin insists that these thoughts are pointless to the artist and should be contemplated without much concern. The “why” of creating art doesn’t need to be answered. The reasons can be obvious or unknown. The important point is that artists love what they create and express that love in their work.

Chapter 60 asks if the artist has a social responsibility. Rubin argues that art exists independently of the artist’s interest in social responsibility. The desire to change people’s minds may interfere with the quality of the art. However, Rubin maintains that these qualities can still exist within the work, but they do not exist because they are planned by the artist. The meaning and purpose of art should emerge after the work is finished: “Art is far more powerful than our plans for it” (318). Reiterating a major point throughout the book, Rubin says that the artist’s responsibility is always to the work itself. The interpretation of art is not up to the artist for predetermination. If there is anything Rubin would like artists to stand for, it is creative autonomy.