This transcendent reinterpretation by the Flaming Lips (and friends) of a 1984 Madonna song has a distinctly perceptible and, frankly, slightly euphoric effect on me. There are particular sensory experiences – of music, art, design or writing (or in cases like this video, a combination) – that provide what can be a sometimes elusive and somewhat perplexing – though not entirely inexplicable – high for me.

These little bits of euphoria have been a high (I’d put that in quotes but I’m fairly certain it’s a legitimate chemical high) that I’ve chased since I was able to intellectualize the notion. I can find it standing rapt before a grandiose (or subtle) work of art, made breathless by a transcendent piece of music (as above) or reveling in a particularly virtuoso piece of prose. However, while there is undeniably a conscious respect for the process, an admiration for technique, intellectual appreciation for and emotional response to a given piece of work, there seems to be something else going on as well.

Without getting too deeply in to neurochemistry (I don’t know enough) or self-medication (I know too much) – and hopefully without getting this horribly wrong – any stimulation of the brain’s pleasure system releases some amount of dopamine, the chemical compound responsible for, among other things, feelings of enjoyment and motivation to perform pleasurable activities. (Stop giggling.) That’s the basic neurochemistry behind pleasure: I enjoy something – my brain releases dopamine – I feel good about the experience (and want to experience it again). It happens every time I (or you) are moved – even the slightest bit – by some piece of sensory input.

But what is the makeup of a particular piece of work that determines this chemical effect on me? With my relatively limited knowledge of the formal aspects of music, I can only hazard a guess as to why a certain combination of notes, chords, instrumentation, lyrics, et cetera might allow a particular song to inject itself into my neural pathways with such potency. (And why doesn’t the original have the same effect on me as this recent rendition? And, no, it’s not because it’s Madonna. I do like some of her stuff.) As a designer/artist I might be able to discern what colors, compositions, and content might coalesce into an effective creative stimulant. As a writer, I can attempt to conjure the sensation through some synthesis of syllables or some turn of phrase. But, I don’t know that I’ll ever be capable of precise creative chemistry.

Ultimately, I don’t think I can discern what part of my reaction to a work of art is intellectual, emotional or chemical. What I do know is that while I certainly find these exhilarating experiences in the work of others, I find it particularly intoxicating and rewarding when I find it in my own. And on one level, that’s exactly what I’m doing here, trying to understand how to extract – from myself – the stuff that makes me feel good.

Creation is a drug I can’t do without. – Cecille B. DeMille