Sid Meier's The Creative Act

or, two brief book reviews; or, we are all of us masters; or, in the cracks between

Does Rick Rubin need an introduction?

He’s one of the most well known and well respected producers in the music industry. Co-Founder of Def Jam Recordings, founder of American Recordings, and former co-president of Columbia Records.

He produced for the Beastie Boys, Run DMC, Danzig, Metallica, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rage Against the Machine, System of a Down, Johnny Cash, and on and on and on.

Curiously, for someone with such an enormous impact on music, Rubin himself cannot play any instruments.

He has a sort of light touch, with regard to production style. Rather than direct a band or tell them how to play, he brings more of a Taoist approach to the act of creation.

Which is very interesting.

To lead without leading.

And so I was very excited to pick up his book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being. The subtitle there is appropriate, since this book is less of an instruction manual or even template and more of a philosophy of life.

It harkens back to one of the most important books in my life: The Tao Te Ching.

Maybe someday we’ll talk about that.

But despite my love of the Tao Te Ching, I found Rubin’s book very frustrating and aggravating.

There’s a koan-ness to the book, which also seems like it would appeal to me.

Especially since the book begins like this:

Those who do not engage in the traditional arts might be wary of calling themselves artists. They might perceive creativity as something extraordinary or beyond their capabilities. A calling for the few who are born with these gifts.

Fortunately, this is not the care.

Creativity is not a rare ability. It is not difficult to access. Creativity is a fundamental aspect of being human. It’s our birthright. And it’s for all of us.

I love this. It’s something I try to communicate here when I discuss writing.

Artistry is labor, just like anything else. There’s nothing special about it. Anyone can become an artist. All it takes is dedication, attention, and the rest of your life.

But if you treat it the way you might treat any other task, like washing the dishes or bathing your child or pet, you’ll find that there is always time to work on your craft, your art. And this mystical act becomes mundane and concrete. Commonplace.

And so I love this sentiment that’s driven through Rubin’s book.

And yet.