Dayana

Norgard

Arjun Khemani

surbhi

Johnny Rapp

sean m

Nicolas

jake

Gary Sheng

Celebrating Rick Rubin’s book “The Creative Act: A Way of Being”
Invitation: Read & generate AI art background

 Collecting seeds is best approached with active awareness and boundless curiosity.

 It cannot be muscled, though perhaps it can be willed.

 As the seeds arrive, forming conclusions about their 

 value or fate can get in the way of their natural potential.

 In this phase, the artist's work is to collect seeds, 

 them, water them with attention, and see if they take root.

 Have a specific vision of what a seed will become 

 could serve as a helpful guide in the later phases.

 In this initial stage, it may cut off more interesting possibilities.

 An idea appearing to hold less vitality may grow into a beautiful work.

 Other times, the most exciting seed may not ultimately yield fruit.

 It's too soon to tell. Until we are further along in 

 process and the idea had been developed, it's impossible

 to assess these germs of an idea accurately.

 The appropriate seed will reveal itself over time.

 Placing too much emphasis on a seed or dismissing it prematurely can interfere

 with its natural growth. The temptation to insert too much of yourself in the

 first phase can undermine the entire enterprise. Be wary of taking shortcuts

 or crossing items off your list too quickly.

 The seed that doesn't get watered cannot reveal its ability to bear fruit.

 Collect many seeds and then, over time, look back and see which ones resonate.

 Sometimes we're too close to them to recognize their true potential,

 and other times the magical moment that inspired a 

 seed into existence is bigger than the seed itself.

 It's generally preferable to accumulate several weeks or months worth of ideas and then choose

 following an urge or obligation to rush to the finish

 The more seeds you've accumulated, the easier it is to judge.

 If you've collected 100 seeds, you might find that 

 seed 54 speaks to you in a way that none of the others do.

 If number 54 is your only choice, without other 

 seeds for context, it's much more difficult to tell.

 When we make assumptions about what seeds won't work or may not fit with

 what we believe to be our artistic identity, we may be prevented from

 growing as creators. Sometimes the purpose of a seed is to propel us in a

 completely new direction. Along the way it may morph into something hardly

 resembling its original form and become our finest work yet.

 At this point in time, it's helpful to think of the work as bigger than us,

 to cultivate a sense of awe and wonder at what's possible,

 and recognize that this productivity is not generated by our hand alone.

 When we share our works and our ideas, they are replenished.

 If we block the flow by holding them all inside, 

 the river cannot run and no ideas are slow to appear.

 In the abundant mindset, the river never runs dry.

 Ideas are always coming through. And an artist is 

 to release them with the faith that more will arrive.

 Choosing to live in scarcity leads to stagnation.

 If we work on one project forever, we never get to make another.

 The fear of drought and the impulse for perfectionism

 prevent us from moving on and block the river's flow.

 Each mindset evokes a universal rule. Whatever we concentrate on, we get.

 At any stage in a career, the critic in your head may make its voice heard,

 repeating that you're not talented enough, your idea isn't good enough,

 art isn't a worthwhile investment of your time,

 the result won't be well received, you're a failure.

 Or there may be a contrary voice that tells you that everything you do 

 perfect and you will be the greatest phenomenon the world has ever seen.

 More often than not, these are outer voices that were absorbed early in life.

 Perhaps a critical or doting parent, teacher or mentor.

 These voices are not our own. We have internalized someone else's 

 judgment, so it can be met with the same indifference as the other random chatter.

 Any pressure you feel around the work, from the 

 inside or outside, is a signal for self-examination.

 The artist's goal is to keep themselves pure and unattached,

 to avoid letting stress, responsibility, fear, and dependence on a particular outcome distract.

 And if it does, it's never too late to reset.

 The first step of clearing is acknowledgement.

 Notice yourself feeling the weight of self-criticism or the pressure to live up to expectations.

 And remember that commercial success is completely out of your control.

 All that matters is that you are making something 

 you love to the best of your ability, here and now.

 Working to free yourself from inner voices is a kind of meditation.

 Set aside all concerns for a stretch of time and say,

 I'm only going to focus on this one practice, making great work.

 If any distractions come along during that period, don't ignore them or focus on them.

 Let them pass like clouds parting around a mountain.

 Eventually, tuning out the undermining voices and losing yourself in the work will not be

 an effort of will but an earned ability.

 Consider detaching from the story of your life as it's happening.

 The manuscript of the novel you've worked on for years is lost in a fire.

 Your romantic relationship breaks up when you thought it was going well.

 As hard as it might seem, seek to experience 

 events like this as if you're watching a movie.

 You're observing a dramatic scene where the protagonist faces 

 seemingly insurmountable challenge. It's you, but it's not you.

 Instead of sinking into the pain of heartbreak or 

 the stress of being laid off or the grief of loss,

 if practicing detachment the response might be,

 I wasn't expecting that plot twist. I wonder what's going to happen to our hero next.

 There's always a next scene, and that next 

 scene may be one of great beauty and fulfillment.

 The hard times were the required setup to allow these new possibilities to come into being.

 darkness is not an end point, nor is the daylight.

 They live in a continually unfolding, mutually dependent cycle.

 Neither is bad or good. They simply exist.

 This practice of never assuming an experience you have is the whole story will support you

 in a life of open possibility and equanimity.

 When we obsessively focus on these events, they might appear catastrophic, but they're

 just a small aspect of a larger life, and 

 the further you zoom back, the smaller each

 experience becomes. Zoom in and obsess, zoom out and observe. Forget to choose.

 When we reach an impasse, we might experience feelings of hopelessness.

 The ability to stay out of the story, zoom back and see new 

 pathways into and around the challenge will be of boundless use.

 If we allow this principle to work on us as we work on it, our 

 imagination frees us from the web of personal and cultural stories engulfing us.

 Art has the power to snap us out of the transfiction,

 open our minds to what's possible, and reconnect 

 with the eternal energy that moves through all things.

 Look for what you notice but no one else sees.

 Our work embodies a higher purpose. Whether we 

 know it or not, we are a conduit for the universe.

 Material is allowed through us. If we are a clear 

 channel, our intention reflects the intention of the cosmos.

 Most creators think of themselves as a conductor of the orchestra.

 If we zoom out of our small view of reality, we function more as an 

 instrumentalist in a much larger symphony the universe is orchestrating.

 We may not have a great understanding of what this magnum opus is

 because we only see the small part we play.

 The bee, attracted by the scent of the flower, lands on one, then another,

 inadvertently enabling reproduction. Should the bee go 

 extinct, not just flowers, but birds, small mammals, and humans

 would likely also cease to exist. It's fair to assume that 

 the bee doesn't know its role in this interconnected puzzle

 and in preserving the balance of nature. The bee is simply being.

 Similarly, the total output of human creativity, in all its kaleidoscopic breadth,

 pieces together the fabric, forming our culture.

 The underlying intention of our work is the 

 aspect allowing it to fit neatly into this fabric.

 Rarely, if ever, do we know the grand intention.

 Yet, if we surrender to the creative impulse, our 

 singular piece of the puzzle takes its proper shape.

 Intention is all there is. The work is just a reminder.

Rick Rubin on Twitter

 When listening, there is only now. In Buddhist 

 practice, a bell is rung as part of the ritual.

 The sound instantly pulls the participant into the present moment.

 sealed, an ear has no lid, nothing to close.

 It takes in what surrounds it. It receives but can't transmit.

 When we hear, sounds enter the ear autonomously.

 Often, we are not aware of all the individual sounds and their full range.

 Listening is paying attention to those sounds, being present with them, being in communion with them.

 Though to say that we listen with the ears or the mind might be a misconception.

 We listen with the whole body, our whole self.

 The vibrations filling the space around us, the act of sound waves hitting the body,

 the spatial perceptions they indicate, the internal physical reactions they stimulate,

 this is all part of listening. Certain bass sounds can be 

 felt only in the body, they can't be perceived by the ears.

 The difference can be noticed when listening to music through headphones instead of speakers.

 Headphones create an illusion, tricking your senses into believing you're hearing everything the music is offering.

 Many artists refuse to use headphones in the studio, as 

 is a poor replica of the real-world listening experience.

 With speakers, we are closer to the sound of instruments in the room,

 immersed physically in a full sonic spectrum of vibration.

 Many of us experience life as if we are 

 taking it in through a pair of headphones.

 We strip away the full register. We hear information but 

 don't detect the subtler vibrations of feeling in the body.

 When you practice listening with the whole self,

 you expand the scope of your consciousness

 to include vast amounts of information otherwise missed

 and discover more material to feed your art habit.

 If it's music you're listening to, consider closing your eyes.

 You may find yourself getting lost in the experience.

 When the piece ends, you might be surprised by where you find yourself.

 You've been transported to another place. The place where the music lives.

 Communication moves in two directions, even when one person speaks and another listens silently.

 When the listener is totally present, the speaker often communicates differently.

 Most people aren't used to being fully heard,

 Sometimes we block the flow of information being offered and compromise true listening.

 Our critical mind may kick in, taking note of what we 

 agree with and what we don't, or what we like and dislike.

 We may look for reasons to distrust the speaker or make them wrong.

 Formulating an opinion is not listening. Neither is 

 a response or defending our position or attacking another's.

 To listen impatiently is to hear nothing at all.

 Releasing our work into the world becomes easier when we 

 remember that each piece can never be a total reflection of us.

 Only a reflection of who we are in this moment.

 If we wait, it's no longer today's reflection.

 In a year, we may be guided to create a piece that looks nothing like it.

 The passing of seasons could dissipate the value the work holds for us.