THE POLE

FLYING NO. 1
FLYING NO. 2
FLYING NO. 3
FLYING NO. 4
FLYING NO. 5
FLYING NO. 6
FLYING NO. 7
FLYING NO. 8
FLYING NO. 9
FLYING NO. 10

INFO & CONTACT

~

Daisy Madden-Wells
Strange but not a stranger: a four part series
The Pole, Den Haag
October 4, 2019 —


1 / 4:

I’VE GOT A FIRE THAT BURNS ALL NIGHT FOR YOU (BABY)

FOR, IN THE BEGINNING ALL WAS FIRE,
AND,
HAVING THUS FAR RECEIVED NO MEMO REGARDING THE END OF THE BEGINNING,
I CAN ONLY DEDUCE ALL STILL IS.

THE SMELL OF A FIRE IS THE DIGESTION OF ITS DINNER,
THE SCENT OF A BONFIRE IS THE STENCH OF NEPOTISM.
I WON’T RESENT ITS PROMOTION.
BUT COULD YOU, WOOD YOU, HELP ME TOO?

COS THIS FIRE HAS NO APPETITE, IT BURNS AT BOTH ENDS.
OH, IT COULDN’T CARE LESS
BECAUSE ANGER IS ITS ENERGY —
BUT ALSO JOY, SADNESS AND THE OTHER ONES TOO;
NUANCED.
NOT JUST A HOTTIE,
A COMPLICATED FELLOW.

THIS FIRE SMELLS OF CLOSE, HOT BREATH, SWEETENED WITH GENTLY INFLAMED TONSILS,
SELF-CONTAINED INFECTION,
SMOULDERING AWAY,
KEPT AT BAY
WITH ORANGES.

FIRE ON A STICK, TO BE SOLD AT THE FAIR,
BURNING FLAGS, FLAMING TORCHES, FLUTTERING MATCHES.
CONTROLLED BURNS PREVENT WILD FIRES.
HAMMOCKED IN SCALDING TENDRILS,
I AWAIT THE PHOENIX.


2 / 4:

Within that chronic flame were worlds and chambers,
boardrooms and grottos,
populated by your hot, your bothered, your huddled masses,
waiting for someone to crack a window.

Sensing a gap, quick as oil, only slicker,
this guy from the corner of your eye
is out and tumbling.
Reverse Icarus,
just as scalded.

The unhappy meeting of objects in space
left hanging.
Waiting for the cool moon’s salve
to bathe the livid cells of his curs-ed little body.
Brief respite from the itching, tingling hate.
Was it something I said,
or something his grandmother ate?

Become a sign through sheer, dumb presence,
Creak in the breeze.

Sorry, are you still open?

Here there be monsters.


3 / 4:

The loves of teenage girls
so roundly discredited,
(apart from The Beatles, Elvis, and whatever papa later venerated)
based on the promises decoded
from a curl on the brow;
pin-up for the ages;
cipher of now.

At the strike of one,
that ghost arrives
— having hawked his noble steed for a hybrid car —
sees the beast tangled in your stars,
thinks he should dislodge it.

He croons of
the good, the bad, and the binary.
The only grey area being
his metal finery.
Which prevents slings and arrows of any depth

penetrating.

Hey, I don’t wanna upset you baby, but I should say,
your idols, they have feet of clay.
You’d have found out sooner or later, even if I'da smashed those toes to bits for you,
marmalised them with thuds into mud
so you never even knew they had ‘em.

'Cos pottery is eternal baby
— you ever been to a museum?!

Mesopotamia, baby, their morsels still knock about.
Babylonia, my darling, they’re still finding out.
Even if the dinosaurs had made 'em, baby, I tell you, they’d still linger
(though they’d be shit; no delicacy in a t-rex finger).

Basically, what I’m saying, baby, is don’t meet your heroes.

For,
I suspect your champion choice is poor.

But,
don’t mewl, don’t fret, don’t stew,
you’ve got me now
— you’ll want no more.

'Cos I'm offering:
a head for romance
and a heart for business.

p.s. you’re welcome.


4 / 4:

A LEOPARD CANNOT CHANGE ITS SPOTS
BUT THE WIND CAN CHANGE ITS KNOTS

~

Daisy Madden-Wells is an interdisciplinary artist and Pisces, born in South London. She holds a  BA (Hons) in Fine Art: Drawing from Camberwell College of Arts, London, and a shiny new Master of Fine Arts degree from The Royal Academy of Art, The Hague.

Strange but not a stranger is a serial work of four parts — four to subsequently fly over the course of the two month exhibition.

cargocollective.com/daisy-madden-wells


Strange but not a stranger: a four part series — 1 / 4, 2019
nylon, spray paint
150 x 150 cm

Strange but not a stranger: 2 / 4, 2019
plywood, spray paint, chain
107 x 130 cm

Strange but not a stranger: 3 / 4, 2019
nylon, synthetic mesh, chain
186 x 92 cm

Strange but not a stranger: 4 / 4, 2019
spray painted nylon, grommets, cord
110 x 30 x 30 cm