Why Are We Drawn to the Things We Love?

Psychologically speaking, I’ve always thought it would be fascinating to understand why we’re drawn to the things we love. I’m sure there’s plenty of research on the subject. Why does one person gravitate toward guitar instead of piano, or violin instead of cello? Why do genres like rock, pop, or jazz speak deeply to some people and not at all to others?

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a similar question—but from a slightly different angle:
Why am I so drawn to studio gear and synths?
Why does this subject bring me so much enjoyment?

I know I’m not alone. I have no idea how many of us there are, but I suspect there are others wired a little differently in this way.

If you asked me to choose between a vacation on a beautiful sandy beach or hooking up a new piece of gear in my studio, I’d choose the studio every time. I’m not exaggerating—just being honest. I genuinely enjoy this stuff that much.

Now, to be fair, spending time with my dog or my wife probably wins—by a narrow margin. I suppose I should have listed my wife first, but realistically, she doesn’t read my blog (insert smile here). Just kidding, my wife is the best.

What Is It About the Studio?

If I had to try to explain it, I think part of it comes down to the fact that I like complex things. I enjoy technology. I like the challenge of connecting systems together and seeing how they interact. I like buttons, lights, knobs, and meters. I love the aesthetic of a studio—the visual order mixed with controlled chaos.

There’s something deeply satisfying about the sheer possibility contained in a studio:
the range of sounds, the ability to shape and manipulate them, the discovery of new ideas, and the rediscovery of old ones.

I value creativity, but I also value structure—and a studio offers both in large doses.

Trying to explain why I’m drawn to studios feels a bit like trying to explain the unexplainable. It’s the promise of creation. Nuance. Detail. Depth. Those are the closest words I can find.

The Ritual of It All

I walk into a music store and I swear I can smell the new merch—the scent of new plastic, packaging, electronics. I’m not even sure that’s real, but it feels real. There’s excitement in not knowing what’s on the shelves, what might catch my interest, what unexpected thing I’ll discover.

For me, it’s almost like fine dining: course after course of new experiences.

Which leads me to another question—why does opening a new piece of gear from a favorite manufacturer excite me far more than visiting a new vacation destination, trying a new restaurant, or buying new clothes?

Maybe It’s This Simple

Perhaps—for me at least—the studio is easy.

New gear doesn’t demand much socially. It doesn’t require me to be “on.” I can return to it again and again. The experience lasts. I can be interested without being stuck, expressive without risk, relaxed without expectations.

I don’t have to be on my best behavior in my studio. No matter my mood, it welcomes me the same way.

It’s my alone time. Time to reflect. To work things out. To think about where I am, where I’m going, and what I’m doing.

The Unanswered Question

I’m still grappling with the best explanation for why I’m drawn so strongly to all things studio-related. It could be all of the above—or maybe it’s simply that I like things with blinking lights.

That might remain a mystery forever.

But if you’re anything like me in your love for studios, gear, and creative spaces, it might be worth asking yourself the same question:

Why?

Sometimes the question itself is more interesting than the answer.