The New Museum’s inaugural exhibition, “Unmonumental: The Object in the 21st Century,” has now expanded with “Collage: The Unmonumental Picture” to include the works of 11 artists who are supposed to represent the diverse directions of contemporary collage making.

For the exhibition’s curators, choosing collage as the two-dimensional complement to the three-dimensional assemblage sculptures that went on display last month must have been a slam-dunk decision. The history of collage leads directly from the cut-and-paste experimentations of the early 20th century Cubist painters through the emergence of the Duchampian-inspired ready-made to the current fixation with found materials that motivates the assemblage artists who are occupying the museum’s exhibition space. Now that the collage works chosen are finally installed on the museum’s freshly painted white walls, the shared reverence for the cultural flotsam and consumerist jetsam among nearly all the artists in the exhibition may not ignite any ideological or artistic clashes, but it does initiate a sympathetic, even commiserative, dialogue between the two mediums.

Violence, sex, consumerism, and political dissent are the preoccupying themes of the majority of the work on display, among which the “TATTOO” series by Thomas Hirschhorn is sure to attract the most critical attention. The 32 large posters Mr. Hirschhorn created for the New Museum are crammed with photos of airbrushed breasts, tattooed limbs, and, most dismaying, blown-up body parts, particularly men’s heads. These are images of war-related violence that newspapers refuse to publish, but they have nevertheless found their way to the Internet. To Mr. Hirschhorn’s credit, he does not isolate these horrifying images and force the viewer to face them immediately. Instead, Mr. Hirschhorn’s strategy is one of stealth — even deception — rather than confrontation. The photographs are buried among the hundreds of other images, cryptic messages, signage, and obsessive scribbling Mr. Hirschhorn incorporates into his posters. And as the viewer’s roving eye searches for some kind of pictorial coherence, the violent acts randomly appear and reappear, until looking becomes almost unbearable.

Across the room, Martha Rosler also explores the numbing effects of war in her photomontage series, “Bringing the War Home: House Beautiful.” Here, though, scenes of domestic tranquility and material luxury are combined with tame — at least when compared to Mr. Hirschhorn’s far more inflammatory choices — photographs of soldiers pointing guns, hooded prisoners, and the by now predictable image of a grinning President Bush. Ms. Rosler was on the vanguard of protest art in the 1960s, a passionate critic of the Vietnam War. These photomontages are developed from a similar series she did in response to that war. But compared to Mr. Hirschhorn’s shock-and-awe tactics, Ms. Rosler’s polished surfaces and seamless integration of forms appear dated and less emotionally charged.

When it relies on brutal realism and provocative tactics, art that addresses the trauma of war tends to overwhelm the viewer. But Kim Jones, a veteran of the Vietnam War, found a way to address his own psychological sinkage without sacrificing the transcendent potential of art. In the 1970s, Mr. Jones created an alter ego of himself called “mudman,” who walked the streets of Los Angeles, caked in mud, and carrying on his back an elaborate structure made of sticks, chicken wire, and tape. His performances were photographed and these images have now become fertile territory for his wonderfully complex graphic interventions. His line has a nervous outsider energy that transports the artist’s “mudman” self into the realm of the phantasmagoric. One of the finest works on display was created specifically for the exhibition. Wangechi Mutu’s untitled installation covers an entire gallery wall. An ethereal lunar landscape, the bronzed-gray ground absorbs and reflects the light from the surrounding field. A barren terrain of sculpted peaks stretches across the floor, above which Ms. Mutu has constructed a giant planetary orb from an eclectic range of materials, including rubber tubing and braided human hair. The collage is a departure for the Nigerian-born Ms. Mutu, who usually produces collages of disfigured female forms. The subtle effects of Ms. Mutu’s installation are a welcome antidote to the idelogically heavy-handed work of her peers.

Until March 3 (235 Bowery at Prince Street, 212-219-1222).