Dara Friedman rummages through a room in her 16 mm work, “Total.”

Tropical disturbances, storms speeding from disorganized rainfall to hurricane force in hours, apoplectic TV weather forecasters, panic at Publix, cumulus thunderheads that look like the Rocky Mountains: South Florida weather sure can be exciting. The current exhibition at the Moore Space, Hurricane Projects I: Outbursts of Energy, is a weather-themed show of moving images and new media works by artists Susan Lee Chun, Dara Friedman, Fernando Ortega, Julien Rosefeldt, Aida Ruilova and the TM Sisters.

The TM Sisters’ “Saturation of Illumination” is a painted wall mural of their signature disco-era lightning bolts and 1970s vintage Huk-A-Poo shirt palette of purples and blacks, shot with neon. “Debris” is an interactive video game expanded to fill the room, in which your stomping foot propels a flying girl (one of the sisters, perhaps?) to annihilate whizzing oranges and fast-moving trash cans as they fly by in gale-force winds. White noise, chirpy screen fuzz, David Bowie-ish clip art stars and even more lightning bolts have become signature moves for the sisters. Their upbeat psychedelia is a delight and easy to digest. The technical chops of these two collaborators are very precise. On a monitor, the video “The Gang’s All Here” iterates the same themes, this time inflected with bare-chested, tattooed revelers moving like headbangers stoked on the charged ions in the atmosphere of an oncoming storm. Or is that reading too much into this work?

Julien Rosefeldt’s “Stunned Man,” shot in Super 16 and installed on two low monitors with plenty of comfortable seating (thanks, because this sucker feels really long), begins as a voyeur’s delight. We follow the domestic perambulations of a man through his cozy, bourgeois digs furnished with the likes of IKEA or maybe even Wallpaper magazine. The divided screens relate to one another like a mirror image, continually rotating inward and then outward, like a pinwheel unfolding or a slow-moving carousel. At moments, the man in the left screen is in synch with his counterpart in the right screen, as they both putter, drop stuff, clean it up, make notes and check e-mail. It’s a bit like watching a hamster in his cage. Then the guy in the right screen loses his decorum, unleashes a lot of melodramatic destruction on the objects and furnishings which were so nicely styled, crashes around like a stuntman through walls and, finally, punctures the membrane between the two scenarios through the bathroom mirror (right brain invades left brain?). The plot-driven intensity of this work is akin to the build-up of pressure preceding a storm, and so it coordinates nicely with the rest of the show, even if it tests the viewer’s patience.

The highlight is Dara Friedman’s “Total,” a 16 mm film work from 1998 that depicts the demolition of a furnished room in reverse slow motion. Simple ingredients: a room, some stuff, a human figure and a fixed camera. Friedman’s movements in the room are slowed down just enough to make her backward walking less obvious. She plods through the celluloid with effort, as if wading through water or snow. This sensation of stasis and thickness in the space serves the film’s abstract nature. Projectile solids seem weightless as they land in her hands. A lone bulb hanging from the ceiling swings slowly and gathers speed, in opposition of natural law. When the crystal chandelier whooshes back together in an upward draft accompanied by a sucking sound in response to the woman’s ballet movements, it’s truly magical. A graceful exercise in re-creation and destruction, “Total” can only be described as sculpture, the discovery of original form in utterly shapeless trash. It’s a beautiful work.

The exhibit will be showing through Nov. 1 at Moore Space, 4040 N.E. Second Ave., second floor, Design District.

Meanwhile, in Miami Beach, Maria Magdalena Campos-Pons: Everything Is Separated by Water opened in the currently leaderless Bass Museum. Kudos to the museum’s experienced staff members, who truly know their stuff. The show itself is a respectable survey, organized by the Indianapolis Museum of Art. The Massachusetts-based artist’s photography and video work are steeped in the 1980s and early 1990s, an era in which gender and ethnicity were hot topics, sometimes the only topics, for artists to explore. Campos-Pons digs deep into her Afro-Cuban heritage and, at times, draws out imagery of great beauty. The strongest work is titled “Spoken Softly With Mama.” An installation of video projections onto oversized ironing boards and tombstones pays homage to the legions of house slaves and servants who ironed and mended. It tells the untold story of hours of drudgery shouldered by patient, dark-skinned women. The photos of hair and the altar-like installations seem less significant after so many have trod this field. This exhibition is on view through Nov. 11 at the Bass Museum, 2121 Park Ave., Miami Beach.