When One Studio Ends… Does Another Begin?

In my last post, I wrote about what it might feel like to receive the final package—the one that officially finishes my studio. I admitted that I genuinely enjoy opening gear, installing parts, modding setups, and endlessly tweaking my space. I like tech. I like systems. I like building things.

I’ve made this comparison before, but it still fits: for me, my studio is a bit like a classic car. Some people love driving them. Others love spending weekends with the hood open, tinkering, adjusting, and improving things bit by bit. I’m definitely in the second camp.

I enjoy crawling under desks, planning cable runs, opening new supplies, installing shelves and lighting. All of that feels like part of the creative process. It’s not separate from the art—it is the art, just expressed differently.

What Happens When the Tinkering Stops?

In earlier posts, I questioned how I might feel when the studio is finally “done.” Will I be at peace? Will I focus solely on composing and producing music? Will the urge to label cables and patchbays finally fade?

Honestly, I don’t know.

Which immediately made me think of Star Wars: Episode IV (spoiler alert, just in case). When Obi-Wan Kenobi is struck down by Darth Vader, is that really the end for him? Of course not. He simply rises in a different form, and the story continues.

That thought stuck with me.

Enter the Satellite Studio (Sort Of)

What if finishing my main studio doesn’t mean the end at all?

What if it’s just the beginning of something… smaller?

And yes, I’m about to say it: a satellite studio.

No, not a massive second build designed to impress the internet. I’m joking when I say it will be “so perfect people will search it out to marvel at it.” But I’m not joking about the idea itself.

There are devices available—one I was actually considering this year, budget permitting—that would allow me to run another studio remotely from my main one. That means, once the primary studio is complete, I could theoretically take a small space—yes, even a closet—and turn it into a secondary, fully synced creative outpost.

This would let the tinkering continue without disrupting the main studio, and it would create space for gear I’m interested in but simply can’t fit right now. Eurorack. Additional synths. Experiments that don’t need to live front and center.

A Closet With Potential

Here’s where the idea gets dangerously plausible.

On the other side of my studio wall is the utility room. The Ethernet cable from my main computer already runs through a small hole in the wall to the router there. And on the other side of that wall? A fairly large closet.

Right now, that closet holds tools—things that could easily live elsewhere. But if it were cleared out, it would already be in reach of the Ethernet connection needed for a satellite setup. Five steps downstairs. Close. Convenient. Possible.

Probable?

Who knows.

Just an Idea… For Now

To be clear, this is just an idea. There are no concrete plans. It would be a fair amount of work. And a lot can change between now and the end of the year.

But the thought itself is telling.

It reminds me that finishing a studio doesn’t necessarily mean giving up the joy of building. It might just mean finding a new way to keep exploring, learning, and creating—whether that’s through music, technology, or the space itself.

And if nothing else, it proves one thing:

I’m probably not done tinkering yet.