A Studio That’s Still Becoming

As I’ve mentioned before, setting up a hardware synth studio was something entirely new for me. It’s not that I didn’t understand cables or basic connections — I did — but I had never attempted anything at this scale before. This was my first time building a purpose-built studio, designed intentionally rather than assembled piece by piece over time.

From the beginning, my studio had to serve multiple roles.

First and foremost, it needed to function as a teaching studio. That meant multiple cameras, a graphics tablet, reliable screen sharing, and a quality microphone — all working smoothly for online piano and theory lessons. That requirement alone shaped many of the decisions I made.

Second, it needed to be a capable recording space for the various music projects I continue to work on.

And finally, the synth wall itself ended up serving a dual purpose. Of course, its primary job is to house my synths. But somewhat unexpectedly, it also became a visual element — an interesting backdrop during Zoom lessons. As funny as that secondary purpose may sound, it’s turned out to be a real bonus. Quite a few of the children I teach think it’s a “cool” background, and more than once I’ve been asked whether it’s real or just a virtual Zoom backdrop.

I’ll take that as a win.

Over the past few years, I’ve probably made it sound like my studio isn’t being used because it isn’t finished. That’s not quite true. I use my studio every single day. Everything is connected. Everything works. What it isn’t — yet — is my ideal studio.

It’s close. Very close.

There are still a few instruments I’m considering, some workflow refinements I want to make, and a handful of physical adjustments that would make the space more convenient and better aligned with how I actually work. These aren’t major changes — more like final refinements.

And while whether or not my studio is “finished” probably isn’t high on anyone else’s list of concerns, it’s made me reflect on how much I’ve genuinely enjoyed this process — and how excited I am about where things are headed in 2026.

It also made me wonder: is this how most of studio builds go?

Do most people redesign a studio, reach a clear moment of completion, and feel satisfied that nothing more needs to be done? Or is it more common to feel like a studio is never truly finished?

I ask because there have been several moments — especially toward the end of 2022 — when I genuinely thought I was almost done. It’s now 2026, and while I’m much closer, there’s still work to do.

I’ll be the first to admit that my studio redesign was sometimes all over the map. That lack of a rigid plan helped me in some ways and absolutely worked against me in others. Being flexible allowed unexpected ideas to surface — like the custom 19-inch rack unit that became central to the studio. At the same time, that openness led me into stubborn placement decisions and overly complex workflows for instruments I didn’t yet understand.

On the other hand, being locked too tightly into a plan slowed me down when the plan itself wasn’t serving me anymore.

Looking back, I don’t think either extreme would have worked on its own.

If you’re designing or redesigning a home studio, there’s a good chance you won’t know where it’s ultimately headed. Some plans will work beautifully. Others will fall apart. Some surprises will feel like setbacks, and others will quietly become the best decisions you make.

If you’re lucky enough to plan everything so precisely that there are no surprises at all, that can be wonderful too.

But for many of us, I suspect the ideal studio emerges from a balance — a mix of intention and openness, structure and experimentation.

And maybe that’s what makes it feel like yours when you finally get there.