Rarely does an exhibit by contemporary artists provide such a poignant lesson in the politics and society of a new country as "Dogs Have No Religion," a showing of 12 contemporary artists from Northern Ireland. Collectively, the work succeeds in telling the inside story of Northern Ireland's troubled past and present from the perspective of young artists — 10 living and working in Belfast, and two from Derry.

The show's name is taken from the title of Miriam de Burca's short film of the same name, which is projected in the back room of the gallery's cellar. Shot documentary-style, De Burca's film is an off-the-tourist-track tour around contemporary Belfast with Jimmy the cheerful taxi driver, who tells vivid stories of various events, places and people along the way that sum up Northern Ireland's Troubles in a nutshell.

Jimmy introduces himself: "I'm a Protestant. I was born in this area, but I would say all my friends are mostly Catholic, the majority of them. See, the Troubles, they should never have started in the first place. Because before the Troubles, everybody was living together anyway and enjoying themselves."

Later, as the taxi passes a huge mural on the side of a building, Jimmy explains, "Over there on the left, that is the signing of the Covenant to keep Northern Ireland British. And it shows you Lord Carson, who is basically the savior of the Protestant people, because he wanted to keep the North of Ireland British."

At the end of the film, Jimmy says seriously, "Now, you'll not get this in the books of history: Dogs have no religion. Now remember that. A dog is neither Catholic or Protestant or Jew or German or anything. It's a dog."

De Burca is a critical addition to the exhibit. She was born in Munich in 1972 with Spanish-Basque roots, and her outsider status makes her explorations of the city, its history and its complicated community even more gripping. Another short film she has in the show is a numbingly static scene of a blue and green road that goes nowhere; its only purpose is to separate Unionist and Republican districts. The title of her film, Go Home, came from a driver who yelled that at her as she was filming.

The remainder of the three-floor exhibit is made up of photos, paintings, installations and sculptures, but the gem of this show is also found down in the basement. Locky Morris' Itch is an ode to "reckless desire" — the human itch to always want more, to strike it rich. Morris' work must be viewed through a magnifying lens: Minute particles (scratchings from a failed lottery card) rise into a delicate and sublime multicolored sculpture.

The most provocative piece is by Ian Charlesworth, who repeatedly scrawls the letters "UVF" (for the Unionist paramilitary group Ulster Volunteer Force) with a cigarette lighter onto four large, transparent sheets of Perspex — the same method used to write on the ceilings of men's toilets in Belfast pubs. For someone unaware of the acronym's meaning, this may seem a mysterious text, absorbing and mantralike. For those who know the acronym's significance, the piece could have a devastating effect, while for others it might seem safe and sanitized by being placed in a gallery.

Many of the artists in this show, including Morris and Charlesworth, represented Northern Ireland with the same works at the 51st Venice Biennale in 2005, to considerable acclaim. The exhibition, titled "The Nature of Things," was Northern Ireland's first official presentation at the Biennale.