Sanford Wurmfeld: Shit Frozen Below Kelvin
Wurmfeld vs. Wurmfeld
Sanford Wurmfeld? Sanford Wurmfeld (b. 1942-). Wurm…feld. Wurmfeld.
Art has a greater purpose than to exasperate or frustrate. Yes, frustration within art can have a regenerative effect, and iconoclastic messages serve to exasperate governments, societies, and religions. This often leads to transformative change. But some art has no such intent. The investigation of work of no value, ironically, has edifying fruits. It helps solidify views on what art should do and be.
A professor at Cooper Union (my mother is a CU alum), Wurmfeld is an artist with a name redolent in poetics. He produces work that only questions the acuity of those critics and benefactors who designate what art should hang in what galleries and sell for what price. For what? Enjoy the Wurmfeld. Consider. Left. Right. Below.
Conclusion: Screen savers are now art. It’s time to ditch the eloquence and go Insane Clown Posse on Wurmfeld and his mentors, predecessors, and contemporaries: Thanks! Thanks a fucking lot, Rothko, Thank you, Warhol. Fuck off, Tracey Emin. Fuck you very much, Frankenthaler. Fuck Pollock. Thanks and fuck all those who set the stage for more shit.