World of worms

I’m not saying the art world is a worm farm. But perhaps I am. Perhaps it does live off its own waste. I don’t have a problem with that.

A wormhole, however, is something vastly different. It can be visualized as a tunnel with two ends at separate points in spacetime. If you look into it, you discover the most unbelievable graphics of the universe as a sort of infinite curve, with the turret running from the past to the present.

Wisdom has it that if you enter the worm hole it shuts behind you, and you never come back.

Obviously the common denominator is the word “worm” with its positive connotation, that wasn’t always so. Now we think of the creatures as regenerative. Sort of like miniature versions of the Sandworms on the planet Arrakis. We could even begin to worship them, these most primitive of creatures, in the belief that they could save the planet.

Once upon a time it was art that was supposed to save us. Now we accept its limitations, but we still love it for all its inadequacies. Meanwhile we invest a lot in worms, with the hope that they might have some link to immortality.