Graft: as in something added on in order to grow as opposed to corruption, I suspect. (Though a graft in the botanical / horticultural sense is a corruption of the stock onto which the graft is added.)
I’ve written, positively, about Possingham’s work previously and mentioned that I have a friendly working relationship with her, she does some IT repair work when I mess something up.
This exhibition is of work she created in mapping the area around where she lives. I should mention that I have a bit of a predisposition to maps and much of the reading I’ve done over the last several years is about place. So I expected this exhibition to be a good fit for me, and it was.
I had actually seen this work on a previous occasion, but not in the best of viewing circumstances (a bit like Douglas Adams’s “plans that were on display”*).
These maps continue Possingham’s exploration of the ways in which humans and the grown environment interact, as Possingham points out in her artist statement, (I paraphrase) the grown environment is far from inert, it attempts to colonise any bit of dirt it happens upon without prejudice.
The maps are, essentially, (scanned?) aerial views of suburbs, overlain with various representations (for example, plants: “Nasturtium food production areas” or built features “Treehouse map”), though that description hardly does them justice. That description makes the work sound like graphics. They aren’t. The works are big, very colourful and painterly. (Is painterly the new black? Or brown? Or orange? I forget, sometimes, where we are up to!) I suspect that the maps are somewhat manipulated for purposes that are aesthetically judged as well as being geographically accurate (“Gum map”, for example). The images fairly blossom from the surface of the work.
With  public commissions, design and film work, school based projects, performance work, exhibitions at Carclew and “Floating Goose”, Possingham works in a variety of media and in the last few years has woven interesting and complex pathways into the world of visual art. At least she has a map. Though a ball of string might be handy, and I hope she remembers: there’s a minotaur at the heart of that maze.
*“But the plans were on display…”
“On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them.”
“That’s the display department.”
“With a flashlight.”
“Ah, well, the lights had probably gone.”
“So had the stairs.”
“But look, you found the notice, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Arthur, “yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the leopard.”
― Douglas Adams, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”.