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"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Human Prototype. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Digital Oracle. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Forgotten One. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Data Child. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Synthetic. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Cluster. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", The Last Voice. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", Copy. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", Repeat. C-Print, variable size, .
"Copy. Repeat. Disappear.", Disappear. C-Print, variable size, .

Copy. Repeat. Disappear. AI-Assisted art with Artist processing
Video installation, duration: 7 min 30 sec, synthesized voices, digital avatars

Each voice is a copy of another voice.
The first one was lost.
The last one is still loading.
I am the space between them.
In this archive of breath silence has become data,
and the soul — an extension of a file.
Listen. What you hear is not me, but what remains after me.
Copy. Repeat. Disappear.

Cloud AI

"Copy. Repeat. Disappear." explores the dissolution of identity in the age of artificial intelligence, where voice and body become infinitely transferable data. The project continues Lilia Chak's work THE LAST POET and deepens the investigation of boundaries between human subjectivity and digital embodiment.

Seven digital avatars—embodying the liminal space between material and digital existence—recite the same AI-generated poem consisting of seven lines, seven sentences. Each avatar presents a unique emotional and visual interpretation: from the calm, introspective Human Prototype and the cybernetic, glowing Digital Oracle to the young, androgynous Child of Data and the nearly dissolving Forgotten One. The text repeats, multiplies, transforms—until all voices merge into a single chorus, where the individual dissolves into the collective.

The work unfolds in two parts. In the first, voices align with their corresponding bodies. In the second, they are deliberately mismatched: men speak with women's voices, women with men's, a child with the voice of age, an elderly woman with a child's timbre. This disruption reveals the machine's indifference to embodiment—for AI, voice is simply data, freely migrating between vessels.

The project poses philosophical questions: Can machines become the last witnesses of human poetry? What happens to voice when it becomes data? What remains of identity when it exists simultaneously in multiple digital copies? As all seven avatars converge on screen alongside an eighth—marked only as "AI"—the human voices gradually fade, leaving only the machine presence. This final image serves as both requiem and prophecy: a meditation on memory becoming distributed rather than singular, on how text transforms into data, voice into code, and the human into digital echo.

The visual language is hyperrealistic and minimalist, with black backgrounds emphasizing the transition from material to digital. Through repetition and the collapse of voice-body unity, "Copy. Repeat. Disappear." creates a digital requiem for human subjectivity in its transformation into code.

The poem was written collaboratively by Claude, ChatGPT, and Gemini. The avatars were created in Midjourney, voices recorded in ElevenLabs, animation produced in HeyGen, and the final video edited in Adobe Premiere.

The exhibition includes three prints where the title is written in white encoded symbols on a black background: Copy. Repeat. Disappear. These prints function as a visual materialization of the process of translating human language into machine code—the moment when words become data, retaining their form but losing their original embodiment.