All over the map

If much of the show expresses the frenetic, overflowing intensity of contemporary life, Ventimiglia’s work acts as an antidote. Inspired by minimalist and process art of the ’70s, he strips art-making back to the essentials, treating it almost as a philosophical proposition. Not a heavy proposition, mind you: an incredibly light and elegant one.

One work, titled “Practice,’’ is a video played on a tiny screen set into a wall. It consists of nothing but the artist’s lips, in close-up and black-and-white, repeatedly intoning the word “practice.’’

The other video shows a car tire revolving. We see the tire’s tread lines moving horizontally across the screen. The rotating tire occasionally slows to a standstill. Its variations in speed are hypnotic, like the syncopated, ragged collapse of waves on a beach. Several pebbles are caught in the tread, and at one point, one of them falls out - an exquisite touch typical of this subtle artist.

By far the funniest work in the show is by Ward Shelley. In the DeCordova’s library, Shelley has installed a huge stack of archive boxes, each with its own label: “Pros and Cons,’’ “Negative Effects of Gentrification,’’ “Single Socks and Gloves,’’ “Persuasive Tears Cried by Big Men,’’ and so on. There are hundreds.

His fastidiously drawn flow charts examining cultural phenomena - for example, “Who Invented the Avant-Garde,’’ “Andy Warhol-Chelsea Girls, ver.1,’’ and “Jack Smith Chart, ver. 1’’ - are more laborious but, given time, just as funny. (Shelley makes a habit of sleeping in the galleries he shows in, for a few nights at least, and indeed he has a nice little cavern set up with sleeping bag under the table.)

Smith, an influential underground filmmaker, is a ghost animating other parts of the show, too, including Laurel Sparks’s paintings and Xander Marro’s intoxicating short film “Born to Never Throw Anything Away.’’ This last, which you watch from the inside of a little fancifully decorated wooden theater, was my favorite work in the show.

Combining animation with footage from Marro’s visit to the Vermont home of her uncle, an incurable hoarder, the film combines a tumbling, fast-paced energy (its hectic editing makes an MTV music clip look glacial) and a visual intelligence that is gorgeous in every way. It’s less than four minutes long. I could have stayed with it all afternoon.

Sebastian Smee can be reached at ssmee@globe.com.