Traffic light

Searching for an image to support my latest writing prompt, I used the term ‘confusion.’ The plethora of detailed images springing to the screen evoked two responses: glee, because there are so many, so varied, so creative and fascinating that my day’s productivity was seriously threatened; and dismay at the prevalence of confusion, nowadays.

Many of these images were clearly newly generated art, and as I’d already missed this week’s deadline, I hadn’t time to contact and await response from artists – tho I will, I see a whole new theme emerging for that exercise, one that converges with my stated objective to never use a gun in my work again, and to never watch media that contains guns.

As you might imagine, this caveat curtails my trash-watching rather a lot – one of the things I do when my brainpan is overflowing, one of the things that helps me zone out, lets my subconscious organize things. Why not, I thought just the other day, why not put mystery at the center of works, why not avoid crime and punishment. Mystery is at the heart of those gunnish works, but they also embrace cheap violence as a way of raising the adrenaline of their voyeurs.

My penchant for intellectual adrenaline stimulation is outside the mainstream of the WARNING, POSSIBLY INCENDIARY OPINION TO FOLLOW white-male-dominated entertainment industry, although as I say, there’s always a story, a mystery, even at the heart of the basest shoot-em-ups. So imagine my delight at finding that confusion – which is really just a tangled web, right, a brainteaser, a conundrum, enigma, puzzle – is a societal condition.

Unraveling confusion, with enough signposting to help an audience make synaptic leaps that keep them engaged rather than perplexed. Now there’s a useful goal.



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