Finding a New Openness

Don’t think about the outcome.

I know we’re only a little over the halfway mark, but if I could recommend one book as my “must read” of 2023, it would be Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act: A Way of Seeing, despite the fact that I haven’t actually read it from cover to cover. Let me explain. I started to read it from the beginning but within just a few sentences, I knew it was going to be more of a reference book than a “read it once and move on” kind of book. So I just leave it on my desk and whenever I need a creative boost or a little blast of existential insight, I’ll pick it up and flip to a random page and read for a bit. Sometimes I flip to something new, while other times I end up reading something I’ve read before, which I think is a perfectly reasonable solution given the often-esoteric tone of the wisdom contained within it. My mom used to say, “you’re not ready to hear until you’re ready to hear it,” which is really a variation on the adage “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” That’s exactly what makes this a book that begs a second (or third or even fourth) reading.

Although it really is a brilliant book, when I’m asked about it, I find that it’s kind of a hard one to describe. In some ways, it’s a series of short meditations around creativity, like this one on page 281: “Sometimes the mistakes are what makes a work great. Humanity breathes in mistakes.” In other ways, it feels more like a compilation of personal journal entries from a wonderfully insightful artist who’s a little further ahead on the road of figuring it all out, but is leaving breadcrumbs for the rest of us to follow and apply to our own lives where and how we can.

For example, earlier today I flipped to page 177, which begins an entry on Point of View. Coincidentally, or maybe not, this entry relates to a couple of questions that I’ve wrestled with for years. Number one, what is the point of making art? And number two, who is art for? They are questions that I feel have gotten harder to answer as we rush to commodify everything. I’ve had a variety of thoughts and responses over the years, many of which orbit what Rubin communicates so elegantly. I won’t share the whole thing because I think the first couple of sentences will give you an idea of how beautiful and resonant the rest of the entry is. “The goal of art isn’t to attain perfection. The goal is to share who we are. And how we see the world. Artists allow us to see what we are unable to see, but somehow we already know. It may be a view of the world singularly different from our own. Or one so close, it seems miraculous, as if the artist is looking through our own eyes. In either case, the artist’s perception reminds us of who we are and who we can be.” Isn’t that lovely? And for me, it’s absolutely true. I’ve been on the receiving end of both of those kinds of realizations when making and looking at art.

If you’ve been reading or following me for any length of time, you know that I go through cycles where I really struggle creatively, which is reflected pretty accurately in how much work I share. To be clear, it’s been this way most of my life, though it probably became more polarized after I went freelance in 2004 and the things that I made had to make money. As I’ve mentioned in some recent Iterations, I had to stop creating for pleasure because I needed to focus on getting and making work that would pay the bills.

Over the course of my life, I’ve been inspired by a lot of people and have been lucky enough to have some really incredible experiences. But I feel like the conversations I’ve had and the books I’ve read over the last several months in particular—especially this Rubin book—seem to be leading to a different understanding or conclusion about this season of my life. I think I’ve developed an openness that didn’t exist in previous years—and part of that openness comes on the back of the incredibly privileged position that I’m in, which I’ve talked about before. Because I’m constantly consuming and reflecting on what I think or how I feel, which not only affects what I make and how I make, but why I make, I think there’s been a gradual loosening of my rigidity around making. I know I want to be a maker and maybe even an artist whatever that means, but I also want to be of service to a larger community. I’m using “community” here intentionally in place of audience, because I want there to be ongoing collaboration and mutual engagement.

I’m not the only one who’s delivering or has something to offer, and the projects that I’ve been working on are a reflection of that. Blue is the Collar, the relaunch of Process Driven, even my own zine project don’t put me at the center of what I’m trying to build. I feel like the last few Iterations have been hinting at this direction, but as Rubin said in a recent  interview, we’re often too close to be able to see ourselves. By not putting myself at the center and instead by having conversations, and reading, watching, or listening to the work of others, I create space and seem to be able to see myself and where I want to go a bit more clearly.

Thanks so much for reading.

Jeffery Saddoris

LINKS
I Almost Quit, Then I Read Rick Rubin’s Book
The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin
Rick Rubin in conversation with Dr. Rangan Chatterjee

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