The impression that something very new is going on in the City Hall art gallery is confirmed by the fact that the gallery itself has been wonderfully opened up by the re-arrangement of standing panels and the removal of the fixed entrance panel which, until now, has obliterated the overall view of the room.

Now the spacious dimensions are instantly apparent and, as a consequence, a highly original exhibition is seen to even greater advantage.

The title of the two-man show is Juxtaposed and features an artistic overview that embraces and combines the latest technology with the elevation of very ordinary objects into forms of artistic expression.

There are few Society of Arts shows that have not been enlivened by the often irreverent originality of William Collieson; for years now, his disparate artistic vocabulary has added a touch of the bizarre -- and fun -- to the traditional fare served up by the majority of exhibitors. He can always be relied on, too, to further spice things up with his very English love of word-play, investing many of his compositions with memorable, if not always enlightening, titles.

His versatility, which enables him to work with equal fluency in a variety of media, is given full rein in this show, a fluency which leaves the viewer slightly overawed, frequently puzzled and inclined, perhaps, to ask `will the real Willie Collieson now stand up?' The power of his sculpture, which automatically zones in on his multi-dimensional perspective, might well turn out to be his greatest strength, as seen in the starkly controlled beauty of Another Red Herring, worked in steel and the molten movement of Spirit of Ecstasy -- to say nothing of the cryptic humour of his two pieces entitled One of the Herd.

Political comment, in which the futility of war is a recurring theme, figures in this show in his collage of We Don't Need Another Hero and in two large works, Siren's Call (with its stinging pun in the title) and Sarajevo, both worked in khaki and deepening shades of brown and black. Found objects form a painted collage that assaults the senses: uncompromising in its message, the latter work may be seen, from a distance, as the grid lay-out of the besieged city, and detailed with images of bayonets and rifles, and personified by the heel of a shoe steeped in mire, a clenching hand and burn-blackened brick.

It is not easy to fathom the ruminations of William Collieson's mind, so interpretations are, at best, a risky business, but his three Landscapes, worked in shining reds and heightened with gold leaf, cross-sectioned to reveal a fiery, rocky strata beneath the earth's surface, have a distinctly ominous aura. Yet he is also equally comfortable as a photographer, creating monoprints or, in a more decorative mood, illustrated by his four acrylics, cut out like a multi-dimensional jig saw and depicting superbly painted images of still life and a lyrical interpretation of the Head of Apollo.

To describe David Robinson as a photographer is simplistic in that his array of work suggests the painterly qualities of a landscape artist, the spatial spheres of a sculptor and the narrative content of the photojournalist. And, at times, his photographs hint of poetry, even if that poetry belongs strictly to this rather unpoetic latter half of the 20th century.

His architectural training is also evident -- and indeed, led to his establishing a design firm in California (where he still practises) that pioneered the use of computers to enhance photographs. This procedure he has developed into a striking art form.

Much of the work displayed here reflects his fondness for (and frequent returns to) his Island home, although there are several fascinating `suites', featuring impressions of London, Santa Fe and the Grand Canyon. These provide relief from his totally original aspects of Bermudian images.

It is an old adage that `the camera never lies' but in Mr. Robinson's hands it certainly exaggerates -- and the result is a view of such familiar sights as the palms at Trimingham Hill and an endless array of architectural highlights and details seen in a polychromatic explosion that bursts forth in a veritable symphony of reds, blues, greens and hot pinks.

Then there are the montages, where dozens of pictures are laid side by side in a massive blow-up of the original. The effect is extraordinarily prismatic and, in the Piccadily Suite, for instance, his tubular view of South Kensington underground station almost sucks the viewer into the visual vortex.

Piccadilly Circus itself suddenly becomes more panoramic, in spite of traffic that rushes unendingly by, the stately curving facade of Regent Street playfully echoed in the neon-lit signs of the foreground buildings.

In the Bermuda section, `greeter' Johnny Barnes again captures the limelight, with Mr. Robinson's brilliant evocation of an eccentric dedication to duty that now seems eternal.

All in all, Juxtaposed brings an invigorating whiff of fresh air into the current art scene, and is the sort of show that, with its distinctly topical approach, should have a wide appeal.

PATRICIA CALNAN.