In this episode of The Diary Of A CEO, Steven Bartlett speaks with producer Rick Rubin about the foundations of authentic creativity. Rubin emphasizes trusting one's internal compass over external validation, market data, or commercial considerations, arguing that this approach leads to more original and enduring work. He discusses how meditation and spiritual practice enable deeper creative access, and why revolutionary art always involves risk and "indefensible" choices that defy rational justification.
The conversation covers Rubin's perspective on the creative process, including the four distinct phases of creative work and how great art emerges from combining technical mastery with a unique point of view. Rubin also addresses how societal conditioning—particularly through educational institutions—systematically suppresses natural creativity, and offers his view that everyone possesses creative capacity. Throughout, he advocates for making choices based on authentic self-expression rather than seeking approval or following predetermined paths.

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In conversation with Steven Bartlett, Rick Rubin emphasizes that authentic creativity emerges from listening to one's internal compass rather than seeking external approval, data, or market validation. This approach, he argues, preserves the creative process's purity and leads to more original, enduring work.
Rubin cautions that focusing on anything besides the act of creation undermines the process itself, asserting, "The creative process is a pure, delicate process to be protected." He discourages artists from considering market fit or whether something sounds like a "single" while in the studio, instead centering his process on making "the best thing we can make" and striving toward "greatness, timeless greatness."
Rubin also warns that advice is only ever someone's personal perspective, not a prescription. He encourages artists to absorb input but ultimately "listen to what's going on in you" and trust their internal compass. If an artist loves their creation enough to show it to anyone, Rubin believes that justifies sharing it with everyone—self-satisfaction is the sole necessary validation. He views everything an artist makes as a "diary entry," meaningful simply because it reflects their worldview. Public approval or alignment with trends is unnecessary, and Rubin's role as producer is merely to help remove roadblocks stopping creators from making what they truly want.
Rubin denounces making art for commercial success or imitation, discouraging creators from making "things to go on the radio that sound like everything else on the radio." When artists make decisions to serve short-term goals, the work's long-term value is compromised. He gives examples of unconventional releases that faced initial resistance but succeeded because they were true to the artist's vision—System of a Down's "insane" record, Jay-Z's "99 Problems," Radiohead's "Kid A," and Kanye West's "Yeezus." Revolutionary work is often rejected at first, Rubin observes, because audiences "don't have any context for it."
Rubin describes how people often can't distinguish their own desires from those inherited from parents, culture, or social media. He recommends practices like meditation or therapy to help creators locate their true selves and separate genuine preferences from societal expectations. Rubin likens discerning creative satisfaction to tasting food—rather than asking what someone else might prefer, artists should ask "What lights you up?" Ultimately, Rubin's philosophy is that "the main idea really is don't listen to what anyone tells you. Be true to yourself. Work hard. Never give up."
Creativity, as Rubin and Bartlett discuss, emerges from a profound spiritual base where meditation, intuition, and spiritual connection enable artistic breakthroughs.
Rubin emphasizes Transcendental Meditation as the most profound influence on his creative life, practicing 20 minutes daily since age 14. This discipline allows access to intuition and deeper creativity beyond intellectual analysis. He explains that meditation accumulates benefits—"depositing in the bank"—creating a reserve of calm and clarity that persists even during breaks from practice. This deeper perception moves artists from intellectual understanding to discovering intuitive insights inaccessible through analysis alone.
Rubin asserts that creativity is fundamentally a spiritual practice, describing a "higher creative intelligence" that can be accessed. Many visionary artists maintain meditation or spiritual practices at their core, helping them connect to themselves, others, and a greater creative force. Rubin realized that creating art as an offering to God lifts work above commercial concerns—success becomes measured by sincerity and quality of offering, not audience size or sales.
Rubin trusts intuition—an "internal antenna"—over data-driven or logical decision-making. Reason, he says, is just a "tiny sliver of how decisions get made." He notices that persistent energetic cues are often invitations from the universe, recounting how he followed "too much energy" behind "vibe coding" even when it seemed illogical. Rubin credits many creative breakthroughs to synchronicity and "miracles"—unexpected outcomes that defy standard cause-and-effect logic, appreciating Carl Jung's view that the world works through mysterious, interconnected patterns.
Rubin's creative process emphasizes embracing risk, trusting intuition over logic, and accepting the prospect of failure as essential to achieving artistic greatness.
Rubin insists that all revolutionary art involves risk. In his forty years of making things, he always takes the risk, contending that "it's only through risk that greatness is shown." He rejects the idea that producing more of the same can be great, arguing that safe, predictable work is forgettable while rule-breaking transforms fields. When Linkin Park faced a decision between repeating their successful sound or pursuing a new direction, Rubin encouraged the latter—alienating part of their existing audience but opening doors for new fans and a more genuine artistic journey.
Rubin introduces "indefensible" as a positive creative notion—taking choices to an extreme beyond reason or logic. He describes his "vibe coding" book project as following an indefensible calling, responding to overwhelming energetic invitation despite having no logical justification. When the book was nearly complete, Rubin insisted on exactly 78 topics (significant in tarot) simply because his intuition demanded it. Creators must heed energetic invitations even if they don't make sense at the time.
Bartlett observes that many shy away from risk due to fear of failure. Rubin acknowledges that following one's creative compass does come with risks—sometimes pursuing what feels right doesn't succeed externally. But playing it safe or producing predictable work simply isn't interesting or artistically meaningful. "If you're looking for greatness," he tells Bartlett, "sometimes eggs get broken, but that's just... that's how it works."
Rubin outlines four key phases in creative work. The Seed Phase involves freely exploring initial ideas without deadlines or commercial pressure—discovery is the goal. The Experimentation Phase follows, testing these seeds and allowing ideas to evolve naturally; a project may transform unexpectedly, like starting with a statue and ending with a painting. The Crafting phase begins once the work's direction becomes clear, involving iteration and refinement. Finally, Completion occurs after these phases, though the outcome often remains unpredictable.
Rubin and Bartlett discuss the inherent uncertainty of creativity—even after diligently moving through all phases, artists can't predict reception or success. Commercial success is unreliable because external factors beyond talent must align. Sometimes pieces languish for years before finding success, while talented people are never recognized. Rubin notes that unfinished or casual versions sometimes hold more magic than polished ones, as happened with Johnny Cash and Neil Young's recordings.
Rubin asserts that feedback is rooted in intuition rather than analysis. Artists may enter with one intent, only for the work to transform—a loud song becomes quiet and intimate. Artists must listen closely to the material, responding to what feels honest and alive, searching for authenticity that can be enhanced through subtle adjustments rather than overhauls.
According to Rubin, the greatest artists combine technical skill, relentless work ethic, and crucially, a unique point of view. Technical talent and practice—exemplified by artists like Eminem—are foundational but insufficient. What sets great artists apart is their distinct perspective, their capacity to notice and express what others don't. Jay-Z distinguishes himself through a singular process: internalizing and performing from memory rather than laboring over written lyrics. Additionally, authenticity is more lasting than polish—Adele's personal songwriting infuses her performances with sincerity listeners can feel. Ultimately, mastery paired with unique, authentic vision gives creative work its enduring power.
Rubin asserts that creativity is systematically suppressed by institutions like schools, which teach rule-following and conformity over free thought. From an early age, people internalize negative beliefs about their capabilities—"you can't sing," "you're not smart enough"—which stifle natural gifts. This "bad information" limits self-expression and authentic development. The educational framework emphasizes competition rather than personal growth; if people can't be the best, they abandon pursuits entirely, believing activities are only worthwhile if they lead to professional success.
Rubin and Bartlett discuss how identity labels limit possibilities. Rubin argues that labels always make a person smaller, confining them to predefined roles. Bartlett observes that the more successful someone becomes, the narrower their life often gets—strong professional identities box individuals in, making it hard to pursue different callings. Rubin maintains that anyone can "press a button" and make radical changes—move, start a new life, or follow a different calling. These choices are always available; what needs to stop is the scenario, not the person.
Rubin and Bartlett reject the idea that only certain people are "creatives." Rubin insists everyone is inherently creative; cultural beliefs about "creative types" are fiction. Most people don't trust themselves due to societal indoctrination and external noise. Rubin describes his work as helping artists get past self-imposed roadblocks and rediscover what truly matters. He emphasizes that making and sharing creative work without waiting for permission allows individuals to reclaim their creative power.
Rubin asserts that anyone can live as an artist, regardless of profession. Living artistically means making choices based on authentic self-expression, originality, and striving for personal excellence. The core question isn't whether a person is an artist but whether they choose authenticity over convenience, meaning over superficial approval, and real self-expression over external rewards. Human purpose, he believes, is to show who we are and invite others to do the same. Rubin and Bartlett agree that children exemplify uninhibited creativity before societal norms interfere, and adults can rekindle this by approaching life with wonder and making authentic expression the foundation of their choices.
1-Page Summary
Rick Rubin emphasizes that authentic creativity comes from listening to one’s internal compass rather than seeking external approval, data, or market validation. He argues that this approach preserves the purity of the creative process, leads to more original work, and allows artists to create enduring expressions of their true selves.
Rubin cautions that focusing on anything besides the act of creation undermines the process, asserting, "The creative process is a pure, delicate process to be protected. If you're thinking about what happens next, totally undermines it." He discourages artists from considering whether a piece of work sounds like a "single," or thinking about how it fits in the market, saying it's irrelevant while in the studio. Rubin’s process centers on making “the best thing we can make,” striving toward what he calls “greatness, timeless greatness,” for its own sake.
Rubin also warns that advice—even well-intentioned—is only ever someone's personal perspective, not a prescription. What works for one person may not work for someone else, and following another's path can undermine authenticity.
He encourages artists to immerse themselves deeply in their chosen medium and absorb a range of input, but ultimately to "listen to what's going on in you." He urges creators to trust their internal compass and reach decisions by honestly checking in with themselves about what feels right.
Rubin maintains that self-satisfaction is the sole necessary justification for sharing creative work: "If I like it enough that I'm willing to show it to you, I like it enough to show it to everybody." He says everything an artist makes is a "diary entry," a reflection of their worldview at that moment. If it is meaningful to the artist, that is enough—public approval or alignment with current trends is not required.
He tells artists, "If you really believe it's great, I support you putting it out... Even if nobody else gets it, that's fine. Someone else reading your diary can't tell you it's wrong." Rubin’s job as a producer is simply to help creators remove roadblocks stopping them from making what they want; he listens to their favorite works and asks why they love them, helping them reach the honest conclusion, “this one tastes better to me,” as opposed to worrying about external reactions.
Releasing work should be grounded in whether it resonates with the artist’s own taste and sensibility: "When I say it's good, I mean it's good to me. That's it." After making something he loves enough to share, Rubin moves on, caring little for subsequent response—"what anyone else thinks doesn't really impact it." Public acclaim, if it happens, is a bonus rather than the goal.
Rubin denounces the mindset of making art simply for commercial success or imitation. He discourages making "things to go on the radio that sound like everything else on the radio," as this produces only "more of the same." When artists make decisions to serve short-term goals, the work's long-term value is compromised. He insists, "Don't put the pressure of that on your art," instead finding a way to live that allows art to be dreamlike and free.
Rubin gives examples of unconventional releases that faced initial resistance but ultimately succeeded—such as System of a Down's record initially dismissed as "insane," or Jay-Z's "99 Problems," which sounded unlike anything on the radio before it became a hit. He credits their success to the fact they were true to the artist’s personal vision, not made to match market expectations.
He also points to the career of Amazon, which lost money for years before becoming successful by sticking to its core belief, and notes that many more talented artists exist than become famous, for reasons often outside their control.
Rubin observes that revolutionary work is often rejected or misunderstood at first because audiences "don't have any context for it." He cites Radiohead's "Kid A" and Kanye West's "Yeezus" as records that alienated listeners initially but were later recognized as groundbreaking. Audiences ...
Trusting Internal Intuition Over External Validation
Creativity, as Rick Rubin and Steven Bartlett discuss, emerges from a profound spiritual base grounded in experiences beyond ordinary rational thought, where meditation, intuition, and spiritual connection enable artistic breakthroughs.
Rick Rubin emphasizes the foundational role of Transcendental Meditation (TM) in his creative life, describing it as the most profound influence on his experience. He learned the TM mantra practice at 14, which involves silently repeating a personal sound vibration with eyes closed, for 20 minutes, typically twice a day—morning and before dinner. This discipline not only centers him but also allows access to intuition and deeper levels of creativity beyond intellectual analysis. Rubin shares that he practiced meditation not only individually, but also socially with artists like Tom Petty, Johnny Cash, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers prior to recording studio sessions, setting a collective creative tone.
Rubin explains that meditation accumulates benefits, likening each session to “depositing in the bank.” Even after stopping for several years, he found upon returning to meditation that its grounding effects remained. This demonstrates that meditation builds a reserve of calm connectedness and clarity—a sense of “groundedness”—that persists and can be tapped during creative situations, even in the absence of frequent practice.
Meditation enables Rubin to “see beyond the surface,” shifting his focus from the superficial to underlying depth and meaning. This deeper perception moves artists from a purely intellectual understanding of their work to discovering new possibilities and intuitive insights that may not be accessible through analysis or data alone.
Rubin asserts that creativity is fundamentally a spiritual practice, not just an intellectual endeavor. He describes a “higher creative intelligence,” a generative force akin to natural phenomena such as plant growth or ocean waves, which can be sensed and accessed. This connection moves creativity into the realm of the mystical, where the artist becomes a vessel for something bigger than themselves.
Both Rubin and Bartlett note that many visionary, “round-corner-seeing” artists and innovators maintain meditation or spiritual practices at the core of their creative process. These practices help them feel more connected—to themselves, to others, and to a greater creative force, described as God, the universe, or a generative energy that makes life and art possible.
Rubin describes realizing that creating art as an offering to God lifts the work above commercial concerns and metrics. In this mindset, success is measured by sincerity and quality of the offering, not audience size or sales. The artist’s best effort becomes an act of gratitude and devotion, freeing it to be pure self-expression unhindered by external judgments.
Rubin speaks to the limits of data-driven or purely logical decision-making. Instead, he trusts intuition, an “internal antenna,” des ...
The Spiritual Foundation For Creativity
Rick Rubin’s creative process, as detailed in conversation, emphasizes the necessity of embracing risk, trusting intuition over logic, and accepting the prospect of failure as essential to achieving true artistic greatness.
Rubin insists that all of the best and most revolutionary art involves risk. In his forty years of making things, he always takes the risk, aiming to make his favorite work or supporting artists in making theirs. He contends that it’s only through risk that greatness is shown. Rubin describes the creative process as a tightrope walk: “If you make it, yes [you achieve greatness]. But that's the risk. And it's the risk that I wholeheartedly support.”
He rejects the idea that producing more of the same can be great, arguing that safe, predictable work is forgettable, and rule-breaking is what advances creative fields. The greatest, most memorable works are those that challenge both the creator and the audience. Rubin recounts how early revolutionary works seldom have immediate context and often seem too much at first exposure, but their challenging nature is what makes them enduring.
An example from his own career comes from his work with Linkin Park. When the band faced a decision between repeating their successful sound or pursuing a new direction in line with their current creative truth, Rubin encouraged the latter. Although this alienated part of their existing audience, it opened doors for new fans and a longer, more genuine artistic journey.
Risk and success, for Rubin, are directly related. He maintains that the risk is not only inseparable from true artistic achievement but necessary: “Normal is nothing to aspire to. Average is nothing to aspire to. If you're looking for greatness, sometimes eggs get broken, but that's what comes with it.” He does not play the “investment commerce game,” but the “art game”—where taking chances and facing uncertainty is the only choice for greatness.
Rubin introduces the term “indefensible” as a positive creative notion. In art, taking choices to an indefensible extreme—acting beyond reason or logic—is not just good but often necessary. He believes that reason plays only a minor role in creative decisions, with intuition or universal guidance being far more important. He likens this to being invited by the world’s creative force—what some might call God—to participate in projects for which there is no rational justification.
Rubin describes his experience with the “vibe coding” meme as a perfect example of following an indefensible calling. The meme, which he had no part in starting or understanding, became associated with him. Instead of ignoring it, as his old self might have, Rubin responded to the overwhelming energetic invitation by tweeting about it and eventually deciding to write a book on “vibe coding.” He had no logical or professional reason—he simply felt invited to participate in this activity by the energy around him.
During the writing, when the book was close to completion with 83 or 84 areas of thought, Rubin insisted the final book contain 78 topics, a number significant in tarot, simply because his intuition told him it had to be 78. Even if everyone else was satisfied, for Rubin the rightness of the project was a matter of feeling, not external logic or business sense.
Rubin contends that artists called to such indefensible ...
Embracing Risk and "Indefensible" Choices
Rick Rubin outlines that all creative work unfolds through four key phases. The Seed Phase is where initial ideas are freely explored, without the pressure of deadlines or commercial considerations. Rubin emphasizes that in this phase, creators must try many different things, letting time and experimentation guide them. There is no set schedule; discovery is the goal.
The Experimentation Phase follows, in which the artist tests the seeds from the first phase, exploring their potential and allowing ideas to evolve naturally. This stage is inherently open-ended, as new directions and possibilities often surface. Rubin describes this as a time when an idea may unexpectedly turn from one artistic form into another, such as starting with the intent for a statue and ending up with a painting instead.
The third phase, Crafting, begins once the artist recognizes the work’s direction. Here, the creator shapes and refines the material, responding intuitively to what the work seems to be asking for. This process can involve significant iteration and hands-on adjustment, as Rubin illustrates with an anecdote about producing an album with Neil Young: initial attempts may seem unpromising, but careful listening reveals that the magic was present in the spontaneous, rough versions.
Finally, Completion occurs after these three phases. The artist now sees what the work has become and finalizes it, but Rubin emphasizes that even at this final stage, the outcome often remains unpredictable.
Rubin and Steven Bartlett discuss the inherent uncertainty of the creative process—even after diligently moving through the first three creative phases, artists cannot predict how their work will be received or if it will find an audience. Commercial success is unreliable because so many external factors, beyond talent and craft, must align for a work to break through.
Rubin notes that sometimes a piece languishes in obscurity for years before finding success, while other times, extremely talented people are never recognized, as timing and luck play huge roles. Moreover, unfinished or casual versions of creative work can sometimes hold more magic and feeling than highly polished versions, as happened with both Johnny Cash and Neil Young’s recordings, where initial, informal sessions captured more authenticity and resonance than subsequent studio work.
Feedback on creativity, Rubin asserts, is rooted in intuition rather than analysis. Artists may enter the process with one intent, only for the work to transform during experimentation—for example, a project meant as a “statue” becomes a “painting,” or a song initially conceived as loud morphs into a quiet, intimate rendition. Artists and their collaborators, such as producers, must listen closely to the material, responding to what feels honest and alive, and gently guiding its development. Rubin describes his method as listening deeply to the recordings, even ones originally deemed unsuccessful, searching for magic and authenticity that can be enhanced through subtle adjustments rather than ...
Understanding the Creative Process
Rick Rubin asserts that creativity is systematically suppressed throughout life by institutions such as schools, which teach rule-following rather than nurturing free and creative thought. According to Rubin, rules are enforced not to help individuals thrive, but to control them, discouraging the expression of unique perspectives and abilities.
Rubin explains that from an early age, people internalize negative beliefs about their capabilities—comments like "you can't sing," "you're a terrible cook," or "you're not smart enough" become lodged in the psyche and stifle natural gifts. These received judgments lead individuals to believe they lack creativity or ability, not realizing that their true potential has merely been clouded by "bad information." This internalization compels people to operate below their capacities, limiting their self-expression and authentic development.
The educational framework, Rubin notes, emphasizes competition rather than personal growth. If people can’t be the best, they frequently abandon pursuits entirely, believing, for example, if they’re not good enough to play professional sports, the activity isn’t for them. This mindset undermines efforts to cultivate interests for their own sake, narrowing personal possibilities and keeping individuals from becoming their best selves.
Rubin and Steven Bartlett discuss the restrictive power of identity labels. Rubin argues that labels, whether self-imposed or given by others, always make a person smaller and confine them to predefined roles. Even appealing labels become limitations, as people trade new possibilities for a sense of belonging or external approval. Bartlett adds that these labels become shortcuts in social contexts, but they also turn into invisible prisons.
Bartlett observes that the more outwardly successful someone becomes, the narrower their life often gets. Strong professional or social identities—such as “lawyer in Manhattan”—box individuals in, making them feel stuck and making it hard to pursue different callings that don’t match their business card or brand. Rubin recounts experiences advising high-achieving friends who felt utterly trapped by their success and identities, unable to see ways out of roles that were causing pain or distress.
Rubin maintains that regardless of prior choices or apparent successes, anyone can “press a button” and make a radical change—move, start a new life, or follow a different calling. These choices for new directions are always available, and “the scenario has to stop, not the person.” He emphasizes that people often mistake the need to shed an old identity or lifestyle for a need for self-destruction when what’s required is simply to make a new and different choice.
Rubin and Bartlett reject the idea that only certain people are “creatives.” Rubin insists everyone is inherently creative; cultural beliefs about “creative types” are a fiction that oversimplifies and limits. While not everyone will become the best in a given field, everyone can nurture and improve creative skills, whatever the pursuit.
Rubin notes that self-trust erodes due to societal indoctrination and the constant noise of external expectations. Most people don’t trust themselves and thus struggle to access authentic preferences. Rubin describes his work with artists as helping them get past self-imposed roadblocks, ignore external opinions, and rediscover what truly matters to them.
Overcoming Societal Conditioning
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