For those who still haven’t heard of it, G.A.S. or Gear Acquisition Syndrome, is a name for the tendency to purchase more equipment than justified by usage and/or price. Or as Venus Theory says: You gear isn’t really the problem. According to one study, the most important brain activity (as in gambling) was not the making of music (the winning) itself, but the expectation of increased creative output (the expectation of winning). You see the new thing, get excited, buy it, get even more excited - and in the end you realize that the result falls far short of your expectations. So sooner or later, you look for another, complementary item in the hope that it might be able to close the perceived gap. What usually suffers the most in all this symptomatology is, of course, the wallet, but above all (and this is concealed by all the promising reviews and propaganda videos for new gear): The carefree, carefree approach to creativity can be lost and replaced by detrimental, self-damaging buying behavior. There are many forums filled with people debating if G.A.S. is a real disease or just a joke that people tend to tell each other, when they can’t stop buying new synthesizers. G.A.S. isn’t officially recognized as a disease yet. That’s really surprising considering its global dimensions also among other groups than synthesizer enthusiasts. Strangely, I couldn’t find a Wikipedia entry. Maybe the industry is involved? Where is my tin foil hat when I need it?
I have been thinking a lot about the striving for more productivity that I’ve encountered over the last years, through the exploration of my own mind and talking to other artists. I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself trying to squeeze out every spare minute to be more creative. Quite the contrary was the result. I’ve been making music since 2003 so I had lots of opportunities to gain experiences in different genres and art forms. Becoming a father in 2018 changed everything, in a very good way. That caused my focus to shift in an existential way. I learned to accept that there won’t be as much time as before for a very long period and that felt quite good. Over the years I learned to manage my expectations, too. But still I feel that inner pressure every time I realize that I haven’t been making music for weeks. It is really paradoxical that now that I earn enough money to buy the stuff I’ve always dreamed of I have no time to actually make use of it in a way that makes me feel content and happy. I have looked at this from different angles but one thing that keeps on appearing is the realization that I don’t want to improve my life, that I don’t want to participate in the race for more productivity, for self-optimization. Still, I want to make music. And I know that I have to accept that that can’t be realized in the way I have in mind.
The more gear I acquired over the years, the bigger the inner void. Possessing all those gear seems to go along with the lack of something else. At least in the dark moments it feels like I have been trying to countervail the lack of time by those purchases. When you have a hundred toys and you don’t play with any of them, do you actually deserve them?
At first it felt like I had lost some of the naivety. Like all those things that meant a lot to me have lost their definition. At the definition I gave them all those years ago. I know similar phases, especially after album releases where I feel empty and without any inspiration. But this isn’t about a lack of inspiration or ideas. It’s about learning to let go. All my life (at least as long as I have been identified with the concept of being an artist) I have felt the existencial need to make art, visual or in a musical form. I arrived at a state, where this need is losing its impact, which slowly turns into a strange kind of freedom. Nowadays I often ask myself why I had to identify myself with the idea of being an artist. Slowly (and sometimes it hurts like a plaster that is slowly being torn off) I can smell this freedom, which feels unburdening and sometimes even frightening. I am learning that priorities may shift and that not every thought has to be put into music. Life and art are growing together in a way that I can’t can’t shape too much. Living in the moment means learning to accept that things are changing, allowing myself to let go of all the to-do-lists and to stop searching through those blocks. It almost seems that I have to concentrate on other things in order to free my mind to make music when the time is right again. Meanwhile I am practicing a lot of Deep Listening. Sitting there in silence and meditating, trying to bring my thoughts and needs to rest.
How about you? Anybody out there who can relate to what I am experiencing? I’d be happy if you share your thoughts with me.