THE Dublin limb of Signals "a celebration of women's photographic practice" hosted by the gallery of photography, offers a group of artists using various photographic media to discuss everything from famine to eating disorders, using forms as disparate as intimate still lives and mountainous landscapes.

Collaborating with Felicity Clear, Clea Van Der Grijn - an artist better known for her painting - has created a photographic installation which through its immense, parched, black and white images, explores points of resonance between the desolate industrial architecture of Liverpool and equally loaded images of barren Irish landscape.

Caroline McCarthy's contribution also deals with landscape, but without the grieving tug of Clear and Van Der Grijn's work. McCarthy's giddy video installation, Greetings, is involved in the undeniably fashionable exploration of the relationship between identity and landscape.

Happily, the artist elevates the discussion with humour, as two video monitors display a postcardish image of misty Irish mountainside, into which the top of a head occasionally leaps. It appears that the camera has been set too high, so that although a recognisable image of Ireland is created, it is simply too lofty, too remote, to admit a human presence.

While McCarthy offers a set of small descriptive hints which serve to enhance her work, at various points in the show, a desire to explain the images (by way of small notices penned by the artists) becomes self defeating.

In Ruth Hurley's "filmstrip" triptychs, Mind Over Body, an invocation of eating disorders and a suggestion that the title expresses the powerful combination of two aspects of the imbalance within the self", serve only to exaggerate the awkwardness of unresolved work.

Rachel Ballagh's contribution, Fox HH in which images of dead animals are overwritten with viscous red text, is certain about its sense of indignation over various forms of cruelty, but this very certainty in turn seems to stall the work.

Dettie Flynn has devised an interesting way of presenting her images, which helps to lend them a strange, productively marginal presence.

Gripped only at the top by one piece of wood, her dark prints of everyday items grossly enlarged maintain a sense of casual, off handedness, while at the same time rendering common objects - feet, toys, curtains - monumental and macabre.