Oak Park artist Lindsay Olson's latest showing is quite the exclusive event. One might say it's the toughest ticket in town, though "getting a ticket" likely isn't enough to view it. And don't try crashing the show-word is security in the building is particularly tough. For that matter, don't get too excited if someone in uniform suddenly insists on bringing you in for a private showing.

Olson's collection of 10 oil and graphite pastel landscape paintings currently grace an otherwise naked wall in a long corridor leading to the roll call room and detectives bureau in the Oak Park Police Department.

Rich pastels convey the organic colors of river scenes, depth of the terrain and ephemeral beautiful of light and water, taking the viewer out of the moment. And that's just the point.

Olson, a longtime Oak Park resident who teaches fashion design at Columbia College, is enthralled with the ever-changing yet eternal beauty of water and sky. An avid boater, she's long enjoyed slowly exploring the area's waterways with her husband and daughter in their old boat, "The Leaky Cauldron."

Seeking to artistically capture the serene aquatic images she's witnessed around the Chicago area, Olson began her Waterways Project in 2006. From that process grew questions of how she could best share her work.

"My thinking was to use the Waterways Project as an experiment to bring art to a busy, stressful work environment," she said. "I wondered if art would be a welcomed antidote to workplace stress and spark discussions about the value of art."

This summer, she brought her idea to Oak Park Police Chief Rick Tanksley and was ready to work to make her case, but found she didn't have to.

"I was all in favor of it," said Tanksley, just the slightest hint of a self-conscious grin playing across his face. "I was intrigued with the idea of using art to reduce stress."

Tanksley and Olson now have a one-year agreement to bring original art into the station. Olson's work will hang there at least through October, after which she hopes to have another artist lined up.

Both Tanksley and Olson hope hers and other artists' work will help police, in whatever small way, to momentarily get in touch with a side of themselves not considered particularly useful in police work. To relax just a bit, to briefly let go of the stresses inherent in their job.

Olson admits the experiment may take some getting used to. "It feels new and may feel uncomfortable," she said.

Tanksley's sold. "You can't walk by here and not stop and take this in," he said. "It does take you out of the present, at least for a short time."

For all the differences between artists and cops, Olson noted, they share a similar trait. Both are trained to develop their visual acuity, to take in the world around them fully, in detail. But while the cop on the street comes from a place of edgy necessity at the service of survival-a need to always be aware of one's surrounding and ready to respond quickly-Olson's focus is relaxed and contemplative, at the service of the spirit.

The key term being "relaxed," don't expect to see something akin to Edvard Munch's "The Scream" on the department's walls, even if it's offered. Tanksley doesn't want any art that reinforces the negatives his officers already confront on a daily basis.

"I'll screen out the darker art," he said. "No disturbing images."

However Olson's show is received by the police department's rank and file, the reality is that one can't gaze upon her artwork without briefly letting go of their thoughts and preoccupations. If Olson wishes to continue offering her work as an antidote to stressful work environments, she's welcome to contact a certain weekly newspaper chain's management, which is, we're told, open to the concept of relaxation and contemplation, at least in theory.

If Olson's creations can truly ease the stress of police work, maybe they can have some small positive effect on the stress of editorial deadlines.