For one of its sparser shows in recent memory, the ever-surprising Knight Arts grantee Vox Populi has an exhibition which showcases a mere four artists, most with only one work apiece — far less than its usual fare. Each artist presents individual pieces of wildly different styles, any of which could almost be a standalone exhibit in their own respect.

An installation by Linda Yun is pretty much as indistinct as they come. Upon entering the darkened room, the viewer is met by a panoramic box of shimmering material. Titled “reflect…,” the artwork makes no reservations about its appearance or its practice. Whatever the means for the sparkling, it creates a quietly undulating backdrop for personal reflection. The movement is mesmerizing and allows for a certain peace of mind, despite its ambiguity. To stare at the surface of the light with fascination is surely the standard response, but its confusing and disorienting nature makes it entirely possible to lose oneself and walk into the installation, as the gallery attendants were sure to warn.

Leah Bailis constructed a sentinel, which stands guard over the show. The massive, masculine figure is completely covered in (as well as donning) a fuzzy pink bathrobe. Both creepy and foreboding, the form is supposedly a sort of homage to the late George Kuchar’s film “Hold Me While I’m Naked.” More apparent is the flip-flopping of traditional gender roles. Furry pink garments generally associated with femininity wrap the burly body of someone you surely would not want to mess with in a dark alley. While the body language of the figure reeks of intimidation, the whole scene can’t help but cause a little chuckle when also considering Ralphie’s bunny pajamas from the classic “A Christmas Story” movie; a pink nightmare, indeed.

On the topic of movies, the show also highlights a 15-minute video by Kara Crombie, entitled “Julian’s Balls.” The short is the fifth installment of her series “Aloof Hills,” a darkly humored series that traces the plantation-owning Van Screwd family and its slaves. Anachronistic and vulgar, the video challenges gender roles and racial divides while simultaneously drawing from a variety of source materials. It is crude and unapologetic but sheds light on contemporary American culture in a way that cartoon parodies like “South Park” do best — through utilizing a medium generally associated with children’s entertainment.

Bruce Campbell presents a room-sized installation, which is essentially the polar opposite of Yun’s. It stands as a tall, clearly lit metal structure coated in glossy white. Although the straight lines of the structure appear basic, its sheer size makes it somewhat overwhelming. Structurally it resembles the skeleton of a shed or tree house, but at the center a crumpled sheet of perforated metal lies in a relative degree of ruin. It speaks to both building and improvement in its scaffold appearance but also destruction in its post-disaster debris.

Harnessing fabric, metal, light and video, Vox Populi’s April exhibit is keenly constructed as one of the gallery’s more concise shows. A bit baffling but ultimately bold, the show certainly warrants a second look.

Vox Populi is located at 319 N. 11th St., on the 3rd floor; 215.238.1236.