Tandem Gallery brings together a diverse collection of visual art works, including sculpture, in a constellation that suggests ways that artists display objects of their affection, as well as icons of their afflictions through their art in PDA -- Public Display of Affection/Affliction.

The exhibition's theme presents us with a lens through which to view these works, and because the lens is a well known cultural acronym - PDA - our first take may lean toward the notion of affection, but a contrast is suggested with " / affliction." Upon viewing the drawings, paintings, photographs and sculptures, we may find they ultimately reflect upon one another, just as all human relationships contain multitudes, as the poet Walt Whitman suggested.

Perhaps the key relationship here is that of audience to art work - what is the relationship between us as viewers, perhaps voyeurs, to these particular art works, or to any art, for that matter? Although every exhibition begs us to consider this question, PDA does so overtly and lets viewers address their own reactions to the work more honestly.

Several of the works show traditional public displays of affection - people kiss, copulate, hang out at a NASCAR event, or walk together. Then there are pairings that are a little more subtle, more disturbing, or verge into narrative. One seems absurdist. It seems a question is being posited in this exhibition - are patrons voyeurs? Is the artist an exhibitionist? Are galleries more than a peep show? To say a piece of art speaks to us is to allow a connection of some kind. Clearly these works spoke to collectors as more than half in the group (albeit a reassembled group) are from collections.

For one viewer/voyeur, these works divide themselves along a fault line of those that attract and those that, frankly, are more likely to repulse. But upon further viewing, those that are the most challenging at first take on a strange allure and we may find ourselves drawn back again and again to them.

The large format still from a video by Sue De Beer apparently shows two women kissing. We lean in for a closer look, but one of them is a guy, possibility. This is one of the most literal public displays of affection, with a slightly edgy feel as we observe someone else's intimate moment. Another photo-based work, American Derek Cracco's "Madonna Whore" is a large format, heavily pixilated photo collage of a woman in two poses - on the left is an outtake of Marilyn Chambers from one of her famous porn films and on the right in an Ivory Soap ad where she portrays a mommy. A shower of hearts breaks out of the seam between the two images and pools at the bottom of the frame, suggesting that we not take any of this too seriously. "It's only love" seems to be playing in the background. Once we know the actress has portrayed love in these various dimensions, the piece takes on an irony that makes us go back and forth from image to image, as we try to discern who she really is. On the other end of the spectrum is Mexican sculptor Renato Garza's skinhead rendered into a human rug, complete with head, hands and feet in 3-dimensions, and the tattooed flesh splayed out suggesting a hunting trophy. What emotions run through us when we regard this work which stares up at us, opened-eyed and grimacing like a Siberian tiger? Fascination, horror, smugness, but certainly desire - to see this again, and again, and to try to figure out why. Do we love this guy because he is now a rug, unable to hurt us or speak out against our world? Do we hate him for ever existing at all? Can we simply regard him and look away, unchanged? I doubt it.

Two other drawings show pairs. Paolo Arao's "Lake Walk" is one of the most pastoral of the show - two men, shirtless in jeans, walk by water. The fact that they seem partially submerged at the lake's edge, that they mirror each other in dress, suggests the erotic, but we don't know this - they could be brothers or they could be lovers. Again, we look and think about the relationship if we think about the work at all. On the other end of this spectrum is Norwegian artist Bjarne Melgaard's disturbing drawing in loopy dark ink that reveals two nude male figures, fully erect, in a position of sexual bondage, complete with a noose. A viewer has to give this work some time to see the multiple views of the human figure, layered upon one another quite skillfully. The subject matter dares us to be offended - we know nothing more than what is presented to us about this work - but it is clearly representing a life style, a culture that values this sort of human relationship.

Another window into a particular culture's world is Inuit artist Annie Pootoogook's drawing of a man and a woman making a kind of stylized love, with the laundry - no it's their clothes! - hanging above them. This domestically-situated love tryst on a small woven rug speaks of the cultural value of order and ritual. And because of its orderliness it makes us smile because their passion is evident as he approaches her from behind and she raises her arms above her head in acceptance. The setting of this drawing invites us to regard these people at their most intimate; it seems to do so proudly so that we don't feel like voyeurs at all but are oddly welcomed in by the formalism.

Harder to discern perhaps are three fine small paintings of American Martin McMurray's which portray figures in attitudes of death, fear, nudity, and contemplation within a forest environment. What holds this sequence together are the somber tones, the contrast of snow and fire, and the expressions that suggest disturbance. Within one of the paintings, faces with wide staring eyes peer around tree trunks at a lone figure on a log before a fire. Voyeurs within the painting itself? This story invites a lot of narrative speculation (the image of the wilderness in Puritan literature as the outpost of Satan, for one thing) and the androgyny in the painting with the two pregnant figures adds another layer of disturbance and uncertainty. What is our relationship to work like this that clearly is telling a story that we have to compose ourselves in order to enter?

Another set of three images are much easier for Southerners in particular to enter. American Jeff Lutonsky's drawings of NASCAR subjects are rendered in a way that suggests photo-realism. Packed with icons of racing, from the details of the travel trailer with garbage stacked by the tires next to the "Towing Enforced" sign (which further suggests these people have come to see racing, by God, and don't give a damn where they park) to the voyeurs who watch the race fans drift by to the ubiquitous hawkers of souvenirs. A quick look at these three charming drawings of NASCAR culture, endemically Southern and low brow, makes us feel as at home as we were with Pootoogook's loving couple. This is their life - and welcome to it.

Austrian Erwin Wurm's color photograph of a man apparently upside down in a trash can is the absurdist piece in PDA. We don't know much about this man from the image itself, but clearly he's had enough and is trashing it all. Whether he is a museum director or a college professor, as the viewer/voyeur, we see him at his most vulnerable and true. Another solo subject is American Hank Willis Thomas's portrait "Jennifer Yazon." In this large format color photograph, we view a lovely young woman at a moment of intimate contemplation. She is stilled, an image of Beauty in a classical sense itself, and the photograph celebrates this beauty. The size of the photograph (as with all large format pieces today) makes the image even more "in our presence" and we live with her quiet meditation as a respectful spectator. Less easy to discern is Palestinian Emily Jacir's text/photography combination which apparently tells a story of her journey between Israel and Palestine to do errands of kindness for those who cannot cross borders. Here the PDA is an open journal, a diary entry revealing the artist's attempt to bring peace to those who cannot return to their homelands. Perhaps this piece, above all others, with its selflessness and documentation of hope, is the most touching public display of affection.

The sense of touch is tantalized, just as the eye can be with a peep show, in three of the sculptural pieces included in PDA. American Lizzie Bougatsos's "Love comes in X's like marking 'em out instead of #'s" depicts the age-old image of the knife in the heart as she invites us to mourn along with her. In this conceptual piece, knives are plunged into the wall in the shape of a heart, and we instantly perceive pain in the shape of love's icon. One is reminded of Sylvia Plath's line, "I do it so it feels real!' By contrast, Allison Smith's comforting 'Security Blanket' is a large textile, woven in a traditional overshot pattern. The warm red and cool blue invites us to stare, and be soothed. This is a mandala-esque PDA for the tired soul. Finally, Icelander Katrin Sigurdardottir's portable sculpture of her homeland at its greenest rendered in a compact, fold-out box, invites us to not only look, but analyze how it folds out and out and out to reveal an interior landscape. We may find this one as irresistible as anything in the show because the intimacy of Sigurdarbottir's revealed landscape is emblematic of all of our homelands. It, too, is public affection at its most private and alluring.

All art invites the human mind to go inside it and to let it unfold and reveal itself. If this is voyeurism, then so be it. The public displays of affection -- of affection marred by affliction -- of affliction healed by affection -- are various and alive before us in Tandem's PDA.

Jeanie Thompson is a poet and writer whose books include White for Harvest: New and Selected Poems (River City Publishing,)and The Remembered Gate: Memoirs by Alabama Writers, with Jay Lamar (University of Alabama Press). On the web: www.spalding.edu/MFA