“Agitation and Repose” at the Tanya Bonakdar Gallery is the 17th show husband and wife team Sabine Russ and Gregory Volk have curated together, and, in what is typical of their collaborations, they have hit upon a theme that can be interpreted very broadly. It is more a mood than a motif that surfaces in the work of eight artists pursuing disparate mediums and styles.

The stated aim of the curators is not only to convey angst or unease, but also to encapsulate or intimate the opposite of each condition. The virus, in other words, must carry the germ of its own antidote.

In a back gallery, six monitors broadcast videos or DVDs by Roman Signer, examples of what the Swiss artist terms “action sculptures.” “Bed” (1996) embodies the duality of the show’s title: In a desolate, industrial space furnished with a child’s bed and nightstand and a forlorn curtain at the window, the artist, in a knitted ski cap, lies under a duvet. This much represents repose. For agitation, a remote-controlled toy helicopter buzzes ominously, wasplike, over Mr. Signer’s head, circling closer and closer. It is possible that the artist himself operates the remote from under the covers.

In “Hay Fever” (2006), Mr. Signer is seated, reading and wearing a gas mask as hay is propelled from floor to ceiling around him. “Helicopter on Board” (1998) shows the same toy as in “Bed” trying to land on a small raft on a river.

In each scenario, agitation and repose cohabit. At the same time, the films themselves are a hybrid of the comedy and thriller genres. The emotions associated with either, however, are not taxed to any significant degree by these affable pranks.

Like Mr. Signer, Ragna Róbertsdóttir is a veteran of past Russ-Volk exhibitions (“Home Extension,” 2004, at the University Gallery, Albany, New York, and “Surface Charge,” 2005, at the Anderson Gallery, Richmond, Virginia), suggesting that the appeal of specific artists is stronger for these curators than their elected themes. Ms. Róbertsdóttir, who is Icelandic, works with volcanic lava to create site-specific wall installations. “Lava Landscape” (2007), at 10 feet-by-26 feet, is a sparse, abstract composition whose black on white can, from a distance, read as photographic pixilation — only upon closer inspection does its material encrustation become evident. The black substance uses the white of the wall behind, and gives a generalized sense of landscape, with ebbs and flows of light and dark evoking clouds or other nebulous forms. Agitation, therefore, only registers when you know what the material is and begin to contemplate eruption and the destruction it entails. In other words, the agitation is conceptual, the repose formal.

Jon McCafferty’s paintings have a geological sensibility that dovetails nicely with Ms. Róbertsdóttir’s lava. “Stratton Version” (2007) in oil and alkyd on wood places a busy, dense form of layered striations against a light ground. The view is unsettled in terms of perspective and scale — sometimes the strips are like steps in what could be a mammoth mountain range, other times they are like folds in a small, flattened rocky formation. Eating away at the stone, meanwhile, are strange figures in a lurid pink, linked together by strips of red and blue which, in turn, can read as fissures in the rock or materials stretched on their surface. The artist reportedly paints from models he constructs in his studio (a practice shared with painter Alexander Ross and photographer Thomas Demand), which explains the tension in the work between observation and improvisation, between a sense of the real and artifice.

Claire Watkins also taps geology in her installation, “Untitled (thinking a thought)” (2007), a motorized work in which twigs mounted to the wall are strung together and occasionally vibrate gently, a shimmering evocation of the precariousness of nature.

In contrast to this poetic sensibility, the German Via Lewandowsky opts for a cruder, more blatant humor. His “Von Linten (Doggy Style)” (2007) represents the copulation of two prefabricated wooden sheds that have been constructed into each other at odd angles. “Halved Joy Is Twice the Fun” (2007) is a rather crass reworking of Damien Hirst’s antic of bisected animals in formaldehyde; in Mr. Lewandowsky’s piece, a stuffed parrot and birdcage, and the pedestal on which they rest, are severed down the middle with several inches gap between the two halves. “As Time Goes By” (2007), at the entrance of the exhibition, is a clock doctored to spin backwards at high speed. In each of these works, signifiers of calm domestic order are brutally subverted.

Diana Al-Hadid’s sculpture, “Portal to a Black Hole” (2007), exudes an eerie, theatrical quality. Ithassomeoftherobustliteralism of Mr. Lewandowsky’s sheds, but also makes manifest the romanticism inherent in the landscapeoriented works of other artists in the show. Meticulously crafted in wood, plaster, fiberglass, cardboard, plastic, and paint, this architectural construction evokes theorganloftofaGothiccathedral caught in some calamity, whether war, earthquake, or fire. It could have been in this sorry state of decay a while, or else we are seeing it in an arrested moment of meltdown.

The last two artists present films of poignant, enigmatic unsettlement. Austrian-born, New York-based artist Rainer Ganahl’s “The Apprentice in the Sun, Bicycling Bucharest” (2006) is a 22-minute DVD of the artist speeding precariously through city streets against the flow of traffic. The hands-free handlebar of his wobbling bike implies that the rider is also the cameraman.

American-born, Berlin-based Holly Zausner’s “Unseen” (2007) is a 16-minute super 16 mm film, transferred to DVD, that follows the artist in an unusual trail around Berlin as she traipses with loose, stick figure rubber figurines, which alternate in color between a male and a female. Artist and doll are, in varying ways, pathetic: She could equally be a Madonna in the pietà or a grownup baby with her doll. She is seen in various cultural and commercial locations: the zoo, where she is stalked by a tiger; a museum; a bakery, and a printing press. Her dummy is physically weightless, but somehow she struggles with its gangly, dangling form. The sense that she is looking to put her strange charge to rest adds a menacing sense of alienation to her otherwise exotic peregrinations.

Until August 17 (521 W. 21st St., between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, 212-414-4144).