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A literally dirty annual exhibit of finalists for the Trawick Prize: Bethesda Contemporary Art Awards is at Fraser Gallery in Bethesda.

Three of the eight artists have incorporated real dirt into their work. The installation by third-place winner Jesse Lehson is composed entirely of it. Probably the most elegant handling of dirt in the gallery, the ephemeral "Dirt Floor XVIII" was made in much the same way as Navajo sand paintings, and with similar healing intent, at least by reference. While the allusions in Lehson's work, and those expressed in her artist's statement, are complex and extensive, the final product may look more like a contemporary carpet than a work fraught with references to everything from Buddhist mandalas to geochemistry and feminism.

Nevertheless, the process of making the dirt painting is worth noting. Lehson collects soil from all over the world, and from individuals who are meaningful to her. She carefully sifts the earth and mica to produce smooth areas of colors like pink and pale green, as well as a rich warm chestnut brown. Occupying a rather large portion of the gallery's floor space, the installation is not meant to be walked on. Instead, it becomes a place of contemplation for the eyes and mind.

This year's top prize winner is, again, something of a disappointment. René Treviño is gay and Mexican-American. Feeling himself not only hybrid, but out of the mainstream of either country, he uses historical images as sources, which he alters, primarily by changing their colors, to connote a gay perspective. Part of his ongoing "Propaganda" series (begun in 2005) is here. These are smallish Mylar sheets hand-painted with the altered images of Mexican and American cultural icons, intended as musings on history and the validity of the mainstream itself — exclusionary and biased as it is. Thus, the American and Mexican flags are recast in hot pink, and titled "Gay."

When one thinks of the layered and nuanced image of the American flag Jasper Johns painted in 1954, and what it meant for a closeted gay artist in that historical context, Treviño's work seems trivial in comparison. The idea has some merit — and this exhibit is, overall, heavily conceptual. But the resulting work itself lacks the kind of depth of thought, not to mention execution, that would make it worth attention. It, like so much work like it out there, needs too many wordy explanations to reveal and justify its significance.

Second-place winner Molly Springfield succeeds where Treviño fails. Her work always has focused on issues of reproduction and originality, and the relationship between readers and texts. Making faithful pencil drawings of sheets of the printed word, Springfield investigates the question of translation, both literally and figuratively. When a thing appears in a different form, or in another language, is it a reproduction or a new thing? Aestheticians have pondered these problems for a long time, but Springfield's work is also compelling visually, bringing a whole new level of consideration into play. Her installation in the Fraser exhibit focuses on the invention of photography, and the Google project of scanning all the books in all the world's libraries. "Miscellanea Photogenica/Melancholy Results" brings together photocopies, pencil renditions of text, including some from the Gutenberg Bible, and other bits that, together, communicate directly to the viewer.

While not placing among the winners, three other artists' work was of particular interest: Ruth Bolduan, Leslie Shellow and Laure Drogoul. Bolduan makes deliberate reference to the 18th century Rococo, seeing parallels to the present in its decorative styles as well as the underlying political malaise that was its background. "La Jardinière" is a stunning painting, featuring a female figure in a red gown (instead of Rococo blue) holding a paintbrush. The fact that women were particularly important in this period in France, and that it is the first to see a fair number of significant women artists is not lost on Bolduan. Yet the work is more than Rococo revisited; it is commentary on the current emphasis on the superficial and the fashionable in an all too fragile world.

Both Drogoul and Shellow are concerned with biology and scientific observation. Drogoul's installation "Frequencies for Darwin (vermi conversation)" features a jar filled with 1,000 earthworms in compost. The viewer/participant dons headphones and speaks into a microphone connected to the jar. The vibrations are supposed to stimulate the worms to appear. All the while, a Chopin piano nocturne is playing, alluding to Mrs. Darwin's great love for the composer. While irresistible and fun, whether this is scientific experiment, parlor game or art remains a question. The music creates a meditative feeling in the gallery, its vibrations certainly seeming to influence visitors.

Finally, Shellow's delicate drawings on denril, a paper that resembles vellum, flow down in pieces mounted on the wall. The imagery of "Subtle Disturbance" is based on microscopic views of tiny organisms that live in water or earth, and a reflection on their life cycles. The floating quality of the cutout pieces mimics these creatures' motion, be it in the water or in the human body. On the floor is a web made of dirt; in its openings are areas of bubbled wax, suggesting that the flow may be upward from earth rather than downward from the sky. The Great Mother would be pleased.