About Belief

Visually, at least, the six young MA students from Goldsmith's Creative Curating course who put this show together have done well. They've pulled off no small feat in placing six video pieces (three projected and two on monitors) into a single space with-out the usual trick of dividing the gallery into discrete black boxes.

But viewing the art itself is another matter. The sound-bleed between them is maddening.

One video completely dominates the exhibition. It shows a blonde woman rotating on a pedestal, wearing a white dress. As she rotates, she says "I am Milica Tomic, I am English" in different languages. Gradually she gets smothered in fake blood, scars and weals. Tomic is Serbian, so there's a strong political subtext - but the grating repetition makes this a contender for most aggravating piece of video art in Europe.

Its harping insistence remains audible even when you don headphones to hear Sarah Tripp's documentary about an energy-giving machine called the Testatika. Equally frustrating is Mark Dean's facile juxtaposition of Pasolini's The Gospel According to St Matthew and a Hell's Angels film. I defy anyone to sit through more than 30 seconds of this cacophony: a US soundtrack clashing with Pasolini's subtitles and Tomic bleeding in, too.

After Joost Conijn's unrewarding 25-minute video about building his own aeroplane, I was ready to inflict a few wounds myself on the unstoppable Serb. About Belief ? This exhibition is almost enough to make you lose faith in contemporary art.

? Showing at the South London gallery until 29 September. Information: 020 7703 6120.