They Blew Up the Hospital I was Born in by Dean Cross. Mill Binna by Leah King Smith & Duncan King Smith. Huw Davies Gallery, PhotoAccess at the Manuka Arts Centre, Until July 16.

They Blew Up the Hospital I was Born in consists of five pieces each contributing to the explication of the artist's connection to his birthplace. The notion of "birthplace" here is loaded with the significance that is associated with Indigenous connections to country and the inculcation of personal (and wider) identity. The artist's ancestors were Worimi but he was born and raised (and currently lives) in Ngunnawal country. Cross' actual birthplace was the Canberra Hospital and this work coincides with the 20th anniversary of the implosion of that building in 1997.

Cross describes himself as a "trans-disciplinary artist working through the sculptural and pictorial fields". This is clearly evinced in the works on display, ranging as they do from painting and found objects to video. For the most part the individual works only make sense in their contribution to the overall theme of the exhibition, and arguably what we are viewing is an installation rather than a collection of individual pieces. There is a conceptual and thematic journey from the first work (Refuge) that reaches its climax in the last (Untitled Explosion (sometimes it all feels like too much)). The journey infuses not only thematic unity but opens meaning to the individual parts.

In What Was Might Never Be Again steel rods used in construction are paired with a set of photographs whose imagery faces the wall but whose subject and date is pencilled in across the back surface. The back of the photographs with their personal inscriptions is an insistent reinforcement of the personal, private and emotive experience the artist is trying to convey. The elements of the visual language used are stark. The contrasts between the cold hardness of the steel and the poignancy of the unrevealed images highlight the elision of the public and the private that is key to the thematic message of the work.

Mum's and Dad's consists of two lounge chairs each with a brick (sourced from the ruins of the Canberra Hospital) sitting on it. Written on the wall behind the chairs is a pointed text – "somewhere on the bottom fragments rest that belong to all of us". The text and the "empty" chairs speak of loss, of people and objects no longer with us. The message holds relevance for each of us that subsumes the slightly Dadaesque character of the contradictory ensemble.

The most powerful element in They Blew Up the Hospital I was Born in is the last work – Untitled Explosion (sometimes it feels like too much). The lake that surrounds the hospital is imbued with a primeval presence that quietly alludes to the biblical (and other) flood. Noah though is absent and the looming presence of an Indigenous figure underscores and informs the 20-minute duration of the video. The imagery flickers as the waters of the lake absorb the other elements present. The sense of impending doom is beautifully and subtly achieved. Images of Canberrans watching the implosion reinforces the role of the viewer and as they too are absorbed into the waters we are made aware of what is viewed is more than what it seems. This piece is about loss, simultaneously private and public, cultural and natural, and is an apt conclusion to the overall installation.

Mill Binna consists of 12 inkjet prints and a video and sound installation. The title means "see hear" in Bigambul language, the language of one of the artist Leah King Smith's ancestors. The 12 images are populated with mannequin-like figures variously superimposed with landscape and other elements. The landscape elements predominate and the interchange between landscape and humanity informs each work and the overall exhibition. The intimation that figures become the land or at least are certainly "formed" by the land is clearly present. The artificial, manufactured persona of the figures does not deny their Indigeneity. The "manufacturedness" of the figures is moot. They are at once symbol and reality and in that duality are vessels for the influences of the world that nurtures them. In the static images they are icon-like. In the installation they infiltrate the viewer's space and introduce confrontation and dialogue. The installation is a truly synesthetic experience embracing sound, movement (dance), visual imagery and spatial enclosure. It is replete with cultural references the most visual being the dilly bags placed across the back (and black) wall of the gallery. The dilly bag is here not so much a vessel for filling as a surface for visual and aural inscription. The figures move laterally across their "stage" dancing in eloquently choreographed gestures that gently provoke and involve the viewer. The "dialogue" they open is simultaneously internal and external. They are speaking to themselves and to their viewers, an activity that is revelatory and embracing. The audio accompaniment (produced by Duncan King Smith) includes birdsong, frogs, chimes, wind and other sounds that are not simple embellished accompaniment but integral and integrated with the images and other elements in this beautifully evocative and moving piece.