The Geometry of Memory in Crossword Puzzle Grids
# The Convergence of Art, Memory, and Activism in Cameron Granger’s “9999”
Cameron Granger, an artist born and raised in Euclid, Ohio—an inner-ring suburb of Cleveland named after the ancient Greek mathematician Euclid—has made a name for himself by exploring the profound significance of lines. These lines, at first glance, appear geometric and mundane: the angular grids of crosswords, city maps, and infrastructure planning. But upon deeper inspection, they reveal themselves as the carriers of culture, memory, and power, connecting the personal to the political in meaningful ways. Granger’s exhibition, *9999*, currently on view at the Queens Museum, masterfully navigates the intersections of memory, community, and resistance through these intricate layers of lines.
The exhibition reflects Granger’s unique artistic practice, which is as much homage as critique—devoted to preserving the personal rituals of loved ones and challenging the systems that erase or marginalize entire communities. His work traverses the realms of crosswords, gaming, and urban planning, transforming seemingly disparate concepts into cohesive, poignant messages that speak to belonging, agency, and resilience.
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## Mapping Memory: Crosswords as Ancestral Artifacts
Central to Granger’s exhibition is *Movements* (2024), a series of silkscreen works inspired by his grandmother’s enduring love for crossword puzzles. These pieces are more than simple visual recreations; they are artifacts of memory and reverent extensions of family history. Granger recalls the hours he spent as a child watching his grandmother solve crosswords with unwavering focus, using whichever pen or pencil was within reach. The ritual became a symbol of her perseverance and resourcefulness. In *9999*, Granger translates her quiet determination into works that elevate her seemingly personal act into a universal love story, enshrining her in the cultural archive she so richly deserves.
Each silkscreen in *Movements* is inexplicably tied to Granger’s grandmother, with grids filled in with red or blue ink that capture the improvisational beauty of life’s everyday tools. Instead of conventional crossword clues, Granger fills the space below the grids with poetry—emotionally charged narratives that resist brevity and demand deeper attention. For example, in “3rd Movement – Her Archive,” a clue reads, “It was blue, and covered in flowers. You massage her aching hands and tell her how pretty she looks in it. She doesn’t believe you.” The answer? *DRESS*. These clues blur the line between public puzzles and private memories, making the viewer participate in the act of remembering.
Through this choice, Granger makes the ultimate assertion: that his grandmother’s stories, both mundane and monumental, belong alongside the cultural canon. He connects her personal acts of resilience to the struggles and celebrations of entire communities, using the crossword as a metaphor for lived history. The artist transforms the disposable nature of crosswords—solved and discarded—into heirlooms of cultural identity, preserved and protected for future generations.
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## Gaming as Resistance: Agency in a Controlled World
Granger’s art often draws on his love of video games, which he grew up playing during his childhood in Columbus, Ohio. His fascination with games lies not only in their storytelling but also in their mechanic: the creation of agency within the constraints of a controlled system. He has been particularly influenced by *speedrunning*, a gaming subculture where players defy a game’s intended rules to complete it with optimized efficiency. To Granger, this practice serves as a metaphor for community resilience—how marginalized groups “mod” systems of power to create paths to agency and survival.
Granger extends this metaphor into his critique of urban planning. His upbringing in Columbus was shaped by witnessing the shadow of the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, a policy that bulldozed historically Black neighborhoods, displacing thousands and siphoning wealth from communities of color. Granger’s work channels the pain and creativity of living within a system designed to restrict agency. For example, in “1st Movement – Cartography Catastrophe,” the clue “Here, they constrict like throats. Messy lines that move us” leads to the answer *INTERSTATE*. The black-and-white grids of crosswords, segregated by black squares, mirror the devastating impact of lines drawn on community maps—whether highways or redlining boundaries.
In a radical departure from crossword conventions, some answers in Granger’s grids are deliberately crossed out. Others feature no clear solution at all, appearing instead as unanswerable or obscured. This defiance parallels the marks of resistance seen in graffiti or grassroots organizing—forms of protest against erasure by gentrification or policy. Granger calls this process of transformation “modding,” borrowing the term from gaming as a declaration of reclamation and ingenuity in the face of systemic barriers. His crosswords are no longer mere puzzles but living, breathing