64 pages • 2 hours read
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.
Chapter 70 tells readers that the creation of art may not yield financial success. Artists should choose career fields that give them the money and security to create art in the time not spent working. For most people, their art will not support them materially. Financial gain often comes intermittently. Rubin recommends careers that allow for “mental space to formulate and develop” their creative visions of the world (360). Another approach involves choosing a career in the field to which they aspire to contribute. Internships, part-time, or volunteer work can lead to unexpected opportunities. Likewise, surrounding oneself with a group of like-minded, creative individuals, what Rubin calls a Sangha, can facilitate creativity. Rubin concludes that being a “part of an artistic community can be one of the great joys in life” (361).
Chapter 71 says that no single version of the individual self exists. Selves vary due to environment, ages, communities, and events; at times, the version of oneself changes in one day. The individual lives in “constant negotiation” between the different aspects of the self (364). Rubin compares the self to a prism. When a light is shot through a prism, the full spectrum of color displays on the other side. Likewise, the self takes in the experiences and environments of the world around it and manifests different versions to match. Rubin insists that the more artists accept the “prismlike nature” of the self, the more attuned they can be to unique expressions of their art (365).
Chapter 72 advises artists who help other creators to give feedback that alters the work as little as possible. He compares this practice to the physician’s creed: Do no harm. An early version of art may be the masterpiece with minor modifications. Avoid over-critiquing. Rubin describes a musician asking him to advise on a song demo. Rubin found nothing wrong with the piece, so he simply suggests that the musician bypass the standard refining of balances and sound. He didn’t want to ruin the work or have the artist ruin it with too much revision. This story conveys that sometimes, the most valuable thing a collaborator can do is nothing at all.
Chapter 73 teaches readers the principles of artistic collaboration. Like a jazz ensemble, artists who work together each bring their own strengths, perspectives, and imaginations to the art. Cooperation means harnessing each artist’s gifts into a cohesive expression of their unified vision. However, cooperation differs from competition. Competition fuels egos, whereas cooperation supports the harmony of creating together. Rubin describes how he manages artists working together. The rule is that the group only continue when they all become satisfied with the work. If one artist likes Choice A, and another likes Choice B, the decision is not either or, but rather, a Choice C should be pursued, to meet both artists’ visions through cooperation. Conversely, if two people agree on all the same things, then one of the two may not be needed. Many of the greatest collaborations didn’t involve the most talented people. In fact, sometimes too much talent can lead to egos clashing and little forward progress. That’s not to say that tension isn’t necessary; artistic tension happens when collaborators push each other to be better. Communication and listening are essential for great collaboration. Specific feedback can give collaborators tangible improvements for focused revisions. Repetition of feedback allows each member to comprehend at their own pace. Asking questions opens the group up to vulnerability and openness, both prerequisites for greatness in art. Most of all, patience and diligence in collaboration can yield results that adhere to the most creative expressions of the group.
Chapter 74 explains why imposed sincerity in art can lead to hollow works. Most artists want to bring their true selves to the work. They try to present the rational and consistent versions of themselves. However, true art comes from the irrational and hidden aspects of the self: “Creativity is an exploratory process to find the concealed material within” (380). Forced sincerity cannot capture the truest expression of the individual artist because the conscious mind inhibits deeper access to emotions and feelings. Real sincerity in art often emerges from the unexpected moments of creation that reveal the true self.
Chapter 75 describes the role of the editor within each artist. Inside each person is an editor who gathers the information and locates the holes in expression. Editors demonstrate their taste by ignoring ego and evaluating the work with an open mind. The editor is different from the inner critic. The critic expresses doubt, interprets meaning, and picks apart tiny details. The editor professionally zooms out from a piece, views it holistically, and presents options that support the work’s full potential. Rubin also discusses the practice of ruthless editing. This style of editing reduces the work down to the essentials. Anything unnecessary to the foundational message is stripped away. For instance, a book that’s over 300 pages should be reduced to less than 100 “without losing its essence” (387). The ruthless edit analyzes each component of the art and evaluates whether that element contributes to the essential energy. The overall goal is to arrive at a simplified, finished work of art that can’t exist in any other form.
Chapter 76 breaks down the fundamental motivation of the artist—the “call to self-express” (392). It is a summoning that forces artists to engage in the act of self-expression and fulfill their creative purpose. It is not about the artists themselves, but instead about communicating what the universe wants the individual to express. Artists make their art to say “I was here” in a particular moment with a specific point of view about the world (392). In this statement, the world responds as art evolves and more individuals contribute. In the end, art becomes the means of communicating with the world without language and rational discourse. Art removes the boundaries of separation, and declares that “we are one” (393).
Chapter 77 describes the balance of nature that provides the framework for all great art. The mathematical symmetry in all things, from galaxies to plants and DNA, expresses the inner harmony of the universe. Great art expresses this universal harmony in a unique way. The elements of art—objects, colors, ideas—generate vibrations that correspond to the “beautifully deep interdependent system” of the universe (398). Art can also express chaos that contrasts with universal harmony. Still, this expression of tension, opposition, and release corresponds in relation to harmony by manifesting difference. Artists can practice attuning themselves to this harmony through their creative act, meditation, and awareness of the inner and outer worlds circulating around them. The goal is not to understand the harmony of the universe, but to live in wonder of its magic.
Chapter 78 urges readers to forget about themselves, claiming that stories about ourselves are not who we are, and stories about the work are not what the work is (403). None of these narratives matter. The artist must learn that “all that matters is the work itself” (404). These narratives that try to identify the self and the art through logical reasoning negate the possibilities of creation. Letting go of these stories means embracing the “universe, the prism of self, the magic, and the discipline of transmuting idea to flesh” (404). In the end, no answer will be given as to why the universe expresses itself in infinite ways. Still, the artist can participate in the manifestation of those expressions through the creative act.
In the final chapters of The Creative Act, Rubin polishes his philosophy of creativity. His thematic development follows suit. For example, Rubin suggests that artists find a sangha, a term in Zen Buddhist Philosophy that roughly means “community,” as a sustainable way to foster creativity. A group of individuals who share similar interests can help the artist find inspiration and hone their craft. Artists can find a sangha of others working in the same genre, artistic discipline, and or location. These communities don’t need to be only artists; diversity of thought and craft expands the artist’s mind. Moreover, the sangha represents another way that artists can practice no-self. By committing their lives and works to others, artists can detach from their egos. The emphasis on community also reflects Rubin’s professional career. He has produced music with artists working in the genres of rap, punk, rock, alternative, pop, jazz, and more. He has immersed himself in different music communities to the benefit of his own craft as a producer. Although the concept of the self seems to be the antithesis of community, Rubin advocates for the idea of the self as a prism that reflects the light of different environments and moments into unique expressions. In Zen Buddhist philosophy, the self is an ever-changing entity that responds to external stimuli. Sangha also relates to how an artist lives their life. Since financial gain from art may be delayed for artists, they should seek careers that can support and sustain their creative practice without wasting the mental energy preserved for their art. The suggestion to volunteer and work internships to enter the field of the artist’s chosen discipline provides audiences with practical advice that can be applied outside of creative pursuits.
Viewing a job to support art, rather than as the burden to escape from, reorients the individual into Creativity as a Way of Life. Throughout The Creative Act, Rubin defines what it means to be an artist. Anyone who creates as a means of self-expression is an artist, in Rubin’s opinion. Therefore, the purpose of the artist is to express the self in each time and place, declaring to the world, “I was here” (392). Because it aligns the artist’s purpose to their interaction with the world, this statement of self-expression correlates to the Relationship Between the Artist and the World. As such, creativity as a way of life speaks to the ephemerality of human existence and seeks to leave behind something of the self as a testament to their relationship with the world. Rubin layers his themes in the concluding chapters of his book. Zen Buddhist philosophy provides a framework through which to comprehend creativity as a way of life. Likewise, by giving up the concept of no-self found in Zen Buddhist philosophy, the artist works at Overcoming Self-Imposed Limitations. Within every artist exists an editor, “the gatekeeper,” who detaches from personal obsession and prepares the work for the world. The editor is the manifestation of artists overcoming their last and most powerful obstacle: their egos. In this manner, the pinnacle of overcoming self-imposed limitations is to surpass the self and its conscious effort to assert control. As a result, the artist creates expressions the self in its many forms. The editor ensures that the ego doesn’t corrupt the final product. Rubin again presents a paradox to explain the purpose of creating and editing art for the world. He writes that “the act of self-expression isn’t really about you”; it’s about asserting the presence of a harmonious universe (391). The call to art is an instinct. To deny this instinct is a “violation of nature” (391). In The Creative Act’s final moments, Rubin asserts a mystical commandment for art that legislates a law of creation that artists must follow. To break this law is to deny the beautiful abundance and infinitude of the universe. Lastly, the combination of these themes conveys how Rubin relates the artist to The Source: “The artwork is the point where all the elements come together—the universe, the prism of self, the magic, and discipline of transmuting idea to flesh” (404). Rubin explains his overall message to the audience by suggesting the inherent unity of the universe, the self, and art through the act of creation.