ALIVE! ARTIST! MODEL! PLEASURE! ,1998, 3:27, color, sound
In Alive! Artist! Model! Pleasure!, Donegan calls into question the institutional armature that surrounds a work of art, and investigates boundaries between "high" and "low" culture. In a nondescript suburban room, a woman watching late-night television catches Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin introducing a musical number about art-making: "You can trace the mystery/of ancient history/through art of artists, and their models..." The curtains part and the performers turn to go on stage for the main act, urging us "to get perspective on a world that's drab and gray... frame it in just that way...," at which point Donegan suddenly cuts to four people in street clothes in a high-school cafeteria, who pick up Lewis and Martin's song a capella, and engage in slap-stick with paint and other art-related props. After several verses, she cuts back to Martin and Lewis concluding the number. Donegan cuts out the middle -- the show-biz heart -- re-placing and re-staging this artifact of mid-century "low" culture with no attempt at versimilitude. Echoing Jerry Lewis's goofball foil to Dean Martin's suave straight-man, Donegan uses the banal to highlight the more classical pleasure of an older model. Donegan's "models" sing, in imitation of Dean Martin: "There's modern art to see/that makes you wonder what the heck it's meant to be," and we indeed begin to trace a history: that of a culture in which questions of representation become increasingly complex.

Refuses, 2006, 5 min, color, silent
Refuses began as a visual extension of Carolyn Bergvahl's poem Fuses (after Carolee Schneemann). Just as Bergvahl's poem speaks to Schneemann's taboo-shattering 1964-66 film, Donegan's Refuses is a direct response to the poem. Using Bergvahl's poem as a template, Donegan creates a structured visual language that leans as much on formal rules as it does on content. In Donegan's silent collage of seemingly disparate images culled from Internet searches and home video footage, each new clip directly corresponds to a word in the original Bergvahl poem; the apparent stream of consciousness is governed by a rigorous set of rules.

Flushing, 2004, 4:00, color, sound
Shot at the Flushing Mall in Queens, New York, Flushing is tour of a mall that doesn't live up to the glossy standards of typical American consumer palaces, but is thereby, perhaps a better place to understand the yearnings for fantasy via retailing.

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before, 2009, 21 minutes, sound
Critic Stephan Koch has written of the Warhol film "Nude Restaurant", 1967, and its star, Viva, in particular:

"It is absolutely impossible to imagine how anyone could conceivably give a damn... I cannot think of a single inch of footage in Nude Restaurant that seems to me worth looking at. Watching it is rather like being present at the most boring party of one's entire life... Oh yes, the superstars. They get on one's nerves."

I became fascinated with Viva's monologue in this movie. I always think I talk too much especially when I am nervous. It is one of the things I dislike most about myself. I was thinking a lot about the art world and how nervous it makes me. I was thinking about my old videos, where I never said anything and how much people like those. So I decided to talk in a video. I'm not an actress and I wasn't sure what to say so I decided to say what Viva had said. I read somewhere that Warhol said her voice was the most mesmerizing and the most grating he had ever heard- he should have known, he was a connoisseur of great talkers, although he didn't say too much himself.

So I cast myself as Viva and my 9 year old son as Taylor Mead - Beauty and the Beast reversed. Vintage headphones and a Nintendo DS keep us in our zones. The more I talked - trivial, breathless, at a breakneck pace - the more it reminded me of me getting on my own nerves. The relentless voice hooked up to a nervous system of images, everyday jolts. It's just Mom in the kitchen, serving up a hot dish of cool leftovers.

Music Video, 2008, 3:10 minutes, color, sound
I dreamed the Smiths asked me to make a video for their new song

Blood Sugar, 2012, 5:28, sound
Fashion is the touchstone for the video, "Blood Sugar" which will be projected against a vintage vinyl jacket as a screen. As the title suggests, another bodily metaphor, metabolism, is at play in the continuous cycle and recycle of images. As the models emerge and recede into darkness, images and patterns appear, degrade and reemerge to an uninterrupted beat. The cycle continues, just as we continue to flow and burn.

I Still Want to Drown, 2010, 2:53, sound
The piece is a short lament and meditation on housework, heartbreak and posing...keeping up appearances and appearing to keep up...I thought about Douglas Sirk and "Imitation of Life", and decorating.

Whoa Whoa Studio (for Courbet), 2000, 3:21, color, sound, (part of The Janice Tapes)
The artist writes: "These works form a capstone to concerns that have been in my work since I began to make video -- the artist's studio as theatre, the self-conscious/self-reflexive gesture that unites performance and painting, creation unraveled. The space for painting/performance is very shallow -- a makeshift set, the television screen, the frame of a painting. In this tautological space the performer, both object and subject, views herself from both sides of the mirror. The gestures performed are fleeting, interrupted, handicapped; the performer's back is against the wall. The imagery plays a game with elements that are part of the creative process -- clean and dirty, sight and blindness, fullness and emptiness, chance and effort."

Lieder, 2000, 2:45, color, sound (part of The Janice Tapes)

Cellardoor, 2000, 1:59, color, sound (part of the Janice Tapes)

Scenes + Commercials, 1997, 22:00, color, sound
Unlike earlier works the artist is not a performer in "Scenes and Commercials." Instead, the action is the family drama that unfolds at a Beach Boys rehearsal session. The soundtrack, a tape recording of the Wilson Brothers trying to cut the single "Help Me Rhonda" under the overbearing scrutiny of father Murray, tells the story of the struggle to achieve the illusion of carefree, American fun. The visual component of the tape, a neon canopy of a service station in Knoxville, Tennessee, reads like a broken pediment in Donegan's archeology of classical pop forms.

Cheryl, 2005, 26:39, color, sound
In Cheryl, Donegan's starting point is the appropriated audio of a self-motivating corporate monologue by a woman named Cheryl. A model of forced enthusiasm, this stand-in repeats a rapid litany of retail clichs and personal encouragements ("I am a winner!") as positive thinking turns to desperate urgency. This found audio is coupled with a flow of images taken directly from the Web; each image features a cheaply made, kitschy consumer item. Donegan puts each low-resolution image through the same formal process of enlargement and transition. This standardization both elevates the generic objects and revels in their uselessness. Presenting "Cheryl" the home-shopping motivator as a surrogate and cheesy consumer goods as art objects, Cheryl the artist questions hype and material value in a personality-driven art market.

Old, Temporary, 2005, 8:00, color, sound
Old, Temporary applies an obscure, appropriated Yoko Ono monologue to a banal setting. Donegan shoots a young woman as she casually meanders through a shopping mall and tries on clothes. The audio reveals Ono reciting vague personal observations about relationships as The Beatles are heard recording The White Album in the background. Donegan's edits and transitions are disjointed and out of sync with the banal actions of the woman; through "cinematic" effects and the dense soundtrack, the mundane is transformed into a chaotic internal monologue

File 2003, 9:20, color, sound
Vertiginous File looks to consumer detritus for inspiration, as well as Rem Koolhaas' notion of the "junkspace" of modern cities. Scraps of color and pattern slide across the screen, frustrating all sense of spatiality and depth; the delirious soundtrack adds to the disorientation