I do a lot of my thinking when I’m doing nothing, like driving recently from Tucson to Corpus Christi in one day. Fifteen nonstop hours and one thousand miles. That’s a lot of thinking.

And of course much of my thinking dwelt on my recent obsession – creativity.

Somewhere between Willcox and Lordsburg, I came up with two basic criteria for determining whether something is creative or not

First, the thing has to be new.

Second, the thing has to have value.

Last week, I decided to open up the book, Mega Creativity by Dr. Andre Aleinikov that’s been lying on my bookshelf for the past year.

I had never heard of Aleinikov until I saw the book at a secondhand bookstore last year. I was so impressed by his chapter on how to define the essence of things that I purchased it immediately. But like the other two thousand books on my bookshelf, I had decided to save it for future reading and future reading turned out to be last weekend.

Imagine my complete surprise and delight when I found he had arrived at a similar definition of creativity, but with one slight difference – he omitted my second criteria.

Putting it through his rigorous steps of defining the essence of things, he concluded that the essence of creativity is newness, that’s it.

To me, there’s just one problem with this.

Not everything new is creative.

For instance, you can simply draw a bunch of random lines on a sheet of paper and it will be a new creation, but is it creative?

To take it to a more ludicrous level, going by that definition, every time you go to the bathroom, it’s a creative event too.

No, to me, value is an essential element of creativity.

Value can be anything you like. It’s totally subjective of course — what’s of value to me may be totally valueless to another — but that’s besides the point.

As long as it has value to someone, it’s passed that creativity threshold for that somebody.

It reminds me of an argument I had with a colleague many years ago about whether rap can be considered music. My colleague was adamant that rap is not music to which I responded that millions of young people would probably disagree.

The problem lies in how he perceived value in music. To him, rap music possessed zero value so it was not music. But millions of rap music fans obviously feel otherwise, because their perception of what is value in music is different.

So let’s apply that newness and value criteria to various creative pursuits.

(A word of caution: this is totally subjective and reflects my very personal bias.)

When someone produces a painting and it’s just a reproduction of another painting, it hasn’t passed the newness criteria so it’s not creative.

When a musician simply copies another musician, it’ not creative either, because it’s failed the newness factor.

When someone writes a poem filled with random words that have no meaning (and consequently no value), it’s not creative because it’s failed the value test.

When someone writes a few instructions to a performer to open a piano lid and sit there silently for 4 minutes 33 seconds, it’s not creative because it has failed the value criteria. (Someone looking for a philosophical statement and musical theater will probably disagree with me here.)

Newness and value – for me, these are the two essential criteria to determine whether something is creative or not.

I’ve always been fascinated by the painting by numbers phenomenon.

You’re given a board or sheet of paper. All the areas to be painted are already mapped out and numbered. And all you have to do is apply the prescribed colored paints to their respective numbered areas and voilà, an instant masterpiece.

When I first found out about it, my first thought was ‘only in America.’ The ultimate democracy, so art has to be democratized too.

But then, I started thinking deeper.

And I realized, isn’t this what art is all about? Following some prescribed rules and applying them in some formulaic way?

For instance, Chinese brush painting is mostly about formulaic techniques.

There’re specific ways to paint mountains, rocks, flowers. The famous Mustard Seed manual is a good source for all these techniques.

That’s why most Chinese paintings look the same — to me anyway — the same serene misty cloud covered mountains and squiggly lined streams.

But then I probed even deeper, and I realized that western watercolor painting share the same traits and characteristics too.

For example, one of the most influential watercolorists of our time, Edgar Whitney is famous for teaching his calligraphic strokes (that’s the word he uses).

His approach is remarkably similar to the Chinese. Each object is represented by a calligraphic marking, a specific technique. There’re different calligraphic strokes for every object — trees, water, houses, etc.

So is this art? Or is it just formulaic reproductions, just a little less constrained perhaps than the painting by numbers approach?

More to the point, is this creativity or is it just mindless reproduction, or rearranging of the same formulaic elements?

It’s hard to say.

Some musicians seem to think that all they have to do is play a piece accurately, exactly as notated, and they have an interpretation.

Others seem to think that interpretation is about reproducing faithfully what the composer ‘intended.’ So they faithfully go back in time, and by analyzing contemporary writings, try to determine the ‘performance practices’ of the time.

Yet others think that performance is about reproducing what their favorite concert artist did in his/her tenth recording of that same piece.

To each his/her own, I guess.

Those people who paint by numbers, they’re proud of their work –  I’ve seen them even framed up in their living rooms.

So do all those Chinese brush painting enthusiasts; so too, those happy weekend watercolor warriors.

In fact, arguing about whether these are creative pursuits or not becomes almost a moot point, and even smacks of elitism. Who’s to judge what’s creative and what’s not?

Perhaps it comes down to that famous saying by Judge Potter Stewart:

[I can’t define what it is.] “But I know it when I see it.”

I’ve been thinking about creativity a great deal lately. Some of the impetus, I must say, have been provoked by the slew of publications I’ve found on the subject.

You don’t have to go far to find these publications. Thanks to google, all you have to do is type in ‘creativity’ in the search box, select ‘books,’ and you’ll see the whole gamut. Some of these books are over 400 pages long.

I actually have some of these books in my possession.

And I’m still waiting to dig into them. Somehow, the thought of having to wade through over 400 pages of scholarly discussion about creativity does not seem, in itself, to be a very creative thing to do so I’ve been avoiding it.

The question is, can creativity even be taught?

And that’s where I differ with these creativity experts.

For example, did anyone teach Bob Dylan to be creative? I’ve seen the documentary “Don’t look back.” He just sits with this typewriter and bang away at the keys. What’s driving him and providing him with all that creative energy?

Or Glenn Gould recording the Goldberg, singing and humming away, baring his soul to the world. Did someone teach him to come up with his unique and breathtaking interpretation of the work?

Or closer to home, if you’ve seen a young kid on the beach, making sand castles, or just playing with the sand. Did you see any creativity expert nearby telling him, “Here, sonny, this is how you make a sand castle”?

Creativity is an urge, a hunger, an obsession. It’s pure energy.

It can’t be taught just as you can’t teach someone to be hungry. All you can do is foster that energy, and give it an outlet.

I live in a city where people are constantly having to whitewash walls.

Now, I’m not condoning any acts of vandalism. Defacing public property and other people’s fences is not a fun matter for those having to clean it up.

But what drives young people to go out at night and spray paint public property? There’re many motivations, I suspect, but one of these has to be that creative energy bursting inside all these young hearts, just wanting to be expressed.

Although many of these expressions are just random territorial statements, some of them are incredibly beautiful.

Talking about graffiti, I’ve heard that graffiti is a serious crime in Singapore which is punishable with many strokes of the cane.

And I’ve also heard that Singapore is at the forefront in fostering creativity. They’ve recruited Edward de Bono and Andrei Aleinikov (two experts who I happen to have the greatest respect for) to help their citizens become more creative.

Now I wonder whether there’s any connection here.

So there I was again, in the heart of Borneo, browsing through another bookstore, this time in my old hometown — Sibu, when my eyes fell upon another book.

Encrusted in dust, this book looked like it’s been sitting there for the past three decades, just waiting for me to pick it up.

I’m not sure why it attracted my attention, certainly not because of the title, ‘How to Overcome Competition.’ But I started reading it, and I was hooked. I loved the direct style of writing, it’s something I’ve been trying to cultivate so I bought the book.

Once home, I decided to google the author’s name, Herbert Casson. I found he was a Canadian who lived mostly in England at the turn of the twentieth century. He started out as a minister and ended up an authority on business practices.

What got me excited was his seeming obsession with efficiency. He founded a journal named after that very subject and published a number of books on it.

Efficiency, of course, is a pet subject of mine. It is an integral part of virtuosity — much of virtuosity has to do with streamlining your task, refining it and making it as efficient as possible.

But what got me really excited was a book of his, titled ‘Lectures on Efficiency’ which I found in digital format here:

http://ia700304.us.archive.org/15/items/lecturesoneffici00cassrich/lecturesoneffici00cassrich.pdf

On page 4, he divides work into two parts, details and principles. Here’s an excerpt of the text:

Here are the details and here are the principles. If a man learns the job himself and does not read books, or travel, or listen to lectures, he only knows the details. He does not know the principles at all. You learn details by what you do yourself; I could not teach you details. There are no two jobs alike, and so you must learn your own details.

But there is something else besides details in every Works, that is, GENERAL PRINCIPLES, which you cannot learn yourself, because it is a very different thing. There are the two halves of a circle. A Works is like an umbrella, the ribs are the principles, the cloth is the detail; it takes them both. If a man only knows details, he sees his job at the small end; if he only knows principles, he is a theorist and a dreamer, and he cannot do anything at all.

Well, you get the general idea.

His explanation of principles is something right after my own heart. It’s practically the theme song of my life.

Ever since I was young, I had always understood that there’re principles and there’re techniques. And principles have always been of greater importance to me than techniques because they give rise to the latter.

When I saw an athlete run, I wanted to know the principles behind his speed. When I watched a small kungfu master beat a hulking boxing champ in a sparring match, I wanted to know the principles behind his strength too.

To me, it’s all about principles. because once you understand the principles, you can create any details (techniques) you want.

The AOV is essentially a compilation of all the principles I’ve learned. These principles are so fundamental and universal to good technique, it still amazes me no one had thought of compiling them before.

What I read in the ‘Lectures’ by Herbert Casson was a validation of the rationale and purpose of the AOV.

So the next day, I went back to the bookstore again to see if there were other books by him. I did find another book, equally encrusted in dust and so old, it literally fell apart as I opened it. I bought it too, although I doubt I would be applying the principles in that book anytime soon. It’s called, ‘Window Display.’

I’ve been doing some video taping. My priority this past year has to get some of the concepts I’ve written about here on video.

Well, it’s not easy. Quite apart from the tech problems – I finally figured out how to set my camera for low light situations – it’s also the off-the-cuff speaking which I’m still getting used to.

Here’s one of my attempts at trying to explain and show the concept of walking the fingers. The audio is on the soft side which is just as well, as I don’t sound all that coherent, but the main thing is the video.

Get the latest Flash Player to see this player.

What the video doesn’t show is the actual sensation at my fingertips, and as I’ve written before, I focus all my playing at my fingertips, there’s a sense of forward motion in the fingertips, they feel as if they’re being constantly propelled forward. The focus also is on finding the next string rather than on the actual plucking, in other words, on the pre-plucking rather than the plucking.

Here’s Etude #1 by Villa Lobos — a good piece to practice the walking fingers exercise.

I’m in Asia, in the heart of Borneo, arrived about a week ago.

When I first arrived in Kuching, the capital city of Sarawak, I decided to go visit some of my old haunts downtown and was wandering the streets and alleyways when I chanced upon this old bookstore.

As some of you may recall, I was heavily influenced by an old yellow book when I was a boy and still harbor hopes of finding that book.

I did not find the book in the store but I did manage to find an old book on writing. The book looked like it’s been sitting on the shelves since I last walked that street half a century ago (well, maybe not quite) and the storekeeper was kind enough to give me a generous discount.

Somehow we started talking and the conversation turned to religion. This was perhaps not too surprising as the store was filled with religious books and other paraphernalia from a certain religion.

He asked me what religion I was. When I mentioned that I’m an open-minded person, he insisted again that I tell him. I told him I was raised a Catholic although I like to think of myself as a free-thinker. (I happen to think that most religions are pretexts for enslaving people and getting them to part with their money.)

He said, “Good, good, go and pray to your Christ.”

I was surprised by what he said. Our conversation then shifted to the religious strife in the world today and how some people seem to want everyone else to believe what they believe in.

“These are low level people, they’re the laymen,” he told me. “Real religious people will not insist that you believe what they believe in.”

Impressed, I asked him, “What’s the higher level?”

He said, “We believe there’re four levels. At the low level, you’re a layman, you want everyone to think like you do. The next level is chanting or as some people call it, meditation.”

Now I was really curious. I asked him again, “What’re the other two levels?”

He said, “At the fourth level, it’s closeness to God, to the Creator.”

He seemed to have skipped one level so I asked, “What’s the third level?”

He said, “Reality.”

Now, this answer hit me like a thunderbolt. If you’ve read my other posts you’ll see why. I’ve previously written about a virtuoso reality which is quite different from ordinary reality, a reality that can only be arrived at after much practice.

Trying to hide my eagerness, I asked him, “What’s this ‘reality?’”

He said “That’s the real reality. Before you meditate, you will not understand this reality. Only after you meditate will you understand what this reality is.”

I was absolutely mind-boggled, the parallels between what he said and the world of guitar playing were simply astounding.

From the laymen at the lower level (substitute guitar players and teachers here) who would insist that you do things the way they do, to the ‘reality’ of those who have reached enlightenment through meditation, I saw amazing parallels.

Even the act of meditation has its equivalent in guitar playing, it’s called practice.

I was so impressed with the wisdom of this man, I was about to take a photograph with him when some customers came and interrupted our conversation.

In the meantime, the dark menacing clouds that had been hovering above the whole morning suddenly decided to let loose its floodgates and rain was beginning to pelt down with proverbial cats and dogs fury, so I decided it was time to move on.

As I was about to take my leave, my new-found friend said, “Do you want to become a —- [name of an adherent of his religion]?”

He then produced a religious book, seemingly from nowhere, and told me, “Take this. You don’t have to return it.”

I was flabbergasted. Here I was thinking he was such an enlightened individual and he’s trying to convert me to his religion. Perhaps not so wise after all.

Seeing he was distracted by his customers, I quickly made my exit.

There’s a quality of playing that I’ve mentioned a few times time before.

It has to do with a certain sensation, a feeling at your fingertips when you play, a sensation as if the fingers are completely independent, able to operate on their own and fully focused on their targets, the strings.

They seem to be driven by some hidden force, almost a kind of intelligence that’s guiding them automatically to the strings.

In the left hand, this is manifested in a kind of ‘stickiness’ at the fingertips.

You feel as if there’s an internal force at the fingertips attracting them to the fretboard, almost as if there’re little magnets at the fingertips. You don’t have to do much, they automatically know where they need to go.

In the right hand, you feel as if there’s an internal intelligence at your fingertips, constantly guiding them to the strings. You don’t have to do much, the fingers seem to be able to play themselves, with incredible efficiency and precision.

The sensation is almost like when you want to scratch an itch.

You don’t have to look for the itch or make your fingers go there. You feel the itch and instantly your finger is there, scratching it. If you were to watch yourself do it, you will see that the movement is all concentrated at your fingertip.

How do you develop this internal intelligence, this ‘magnetic’ force in the fingers?

First, focus your playing at your fingertips.

Don’t try to ‘pluck’ the strings, just stroke them with your fingertips. The movement must be very small and totally focused at the fingertips.

You should feel as if you’re only moving the fingertip, wiggling them. That’s how small the movements should be. Naturally, there will be small sympathetic motions in other parts of the finger, don’t suppress them.

When you develop this extreme focused movements at your fingertips, you will begin to notice increased sensitivity in your fingertips. You will feel as if you have complete control over them.

The more you focus on the fingertips, the more awareness and control you develop. This control eventually becomes so automatic you don’t have to think about it anymore. Your fingers instinctively know where they need to go.

Second, anticipate. Focus on getting the fingers to the strings before you have to play.

No, this is not the old ‘preparation’ technique where you place your fingers on the strings before you play. That technique is too static.

This form of ‘preparation’ is fluid and dynamic. You feel as if your fingers are constantly on the move, moving to the next note, to the next string, propelled by some unseen force in your fingertips.

Try playing Etude #1 by Villa Lobos this way.

Make your fingers constantly go to the next string. Focus on getting to the strings rather than on plucking them. Let the plucking happen naturally, without effort, as you let go the string to move on to the next.

When you do this consistently and over time, your fingers will begin to develop a sixth sense as to where the strings are. They will move automatically to the strings as if they’re propelled by some unseen force in the fingertips.

I know the idea of finger intelligence may sound a little strange.

But the sensation is very real and is at the heart of what I do. In fact, I first became conscious of the principle when I saw flamenco legend Juan Serrano play years ago.

What fascinated me about his playing was the incredible precision and directness in his left-hand fingers, especially in the way he fretted his notes. When he fretted his notes, it almost appeared as if there were some kind of weight in his fingertips, some magnetic force in them pulling them to the strings.

One of the things I had learned from Karl Herreshoff was to apply strong pressure in the left hand. This is to develop strength in the left hand. Over time, this pressure becomes effortless as you develop strength. To me the idea of a strong attracting force residing at the fingertips was an extension of that same principle.

And I also began to realize that I had been applying the same principle in my right hand.

I had always played with the right hand by concentrating all my efforts at my fingertips. It was something I had gravitated to doing naturally, one of the benefits of not having ‘correct’ instruction in my early years.

I began to notice the same kind of focus in my right-hand fingertips, the same kind of directness and concentration of energy right at the fingertips.

That was when I began to realize that economy, efficiency and finger independence are all a matter of focusing your playing at your fingertips, not the knuckle, not the wrist, not even in your head, but right at your fingertips.

For me, this is the holy grail of playing, developing so much sensitivity in your fingertips, they begin to assume an independence so complete it feels as if they have an intelligence of their own.

This is a continuation of the previous post.

Most people think of economy as simply moving in small motions. But that’s just one small part of the equation.

Much more important than that is the aspect of efficiency in economy.

In other words, it’s not how small your movements are, but how fast you get to your destination.

Take two routes to a common destination, one is a small street with many stop signs, the other is a highway which brings you straight to your destination. The small street is a shorter route, the highway longer.

Which route do you think offers you greater economy?

Or take this oft-quoted cliché – the shortest route between two points is a straight line. That’s true if all you do is move from one point to another.

But what if you have to move back and forth between two points?

In this case, you’ll have to factor in the return journey back to the starting point and vice versa. If you move in straight lines between the two points, you’ll have to stop at each point to reverse direction to go back to the other point. That’s inefficient because it stops your momentum.

So the straight line may be the shortest route but it’s not always the most economical. The more economical and efficient way would be to move in circular motion between the two points. This way, you’ll be able to keep the flow of your motion going and maintain your momentum.

To translate this to guitar playing.

When we pluck, we seldom pluck just one note. The finger has to go back repeatedly to reposition itself to play the next note and the next one after that etc.

So part of an efficient and economical plucking strategy has to factor in the return journey to reposition the finger to play the next note or what I call the rebounding movement.

To do this, the most efficient way is to move the fingertip upward as soon as the finger has plucked the string and immediately move it back to get it in position to pluck the next note.

When you do this, you create a circular trajectory in your fingertips, a continuous flow of action in your fingers where they never have to stop even as they change directions.

From getting to the string to plucking the string to rebounding, to getting to the string again etc, all these actions are done in a continuous flow of action, giving you effortless speed and power because you’re able to keep the momentum of your movement going on, indefinitely, until you want it to stop.

So in your pursuit of economy, don’t get too fixated on just moving in small motions.

There’re other factors to consider.

If you want more power, allow your fingers to make the necessary adjustments to generate that power. If you feel like moving more to kick start a movement, there’s nothing that says you can’t do it. And if you have to move between several different points, don’t be afraid to take  a more circular path even if it means it’s longer.

And if you’re in the business of providing entertainment, you can add all the necessary frills and flourishes you want too, to make your performance more ‘convincing.’

The point, of course, is that these should always be done deliberately, and not because you lack refinement  in your technique.