Holographic Plans

Android Plaza — The Apocalypse Spa Title: Holographic Plans Post Painting Circa 2025 Android Plaza — The Apocalypse Spa is a limited body of Post Paintings created through a hybrid process that merges a bespoke Android Plaza–trained generative model with Harman’s direct digital painting intervention. Each work begins as a machine-generated image drawn from the closed visual world of Android Plaza, then is manually repainted, disrupted, and re-authored by the artist, making every piece a singular, non-repeatable object. The glitch is not an effect—it is the subject. It behaves like a lost transmission leaking through the walls of an underground mountain nuclear bunker. Compression scars, signal smears, and data ruptures act as visual evidence of interference, as if the images themselves are being broadcast from deep beneath the earth. The spa becomes a surreal last refuge: a place of engineered calm built for collapse. The viewer enters a world of terminal luxury—tuxedos submerged in glowing pools, champagne rituals interrupted by data erosion, faces and bodies dissolving into corrupted signal. Every surface oscillates between high-end finish and systemic failure. What appears polished is always moments from disintegration. Crucially, these works are not pure AI outputs. Harman’s repainting is an act of resistance against full automation. The hand reasserts itself against the model’s logic, forcing instability back into the image. Each Post Painting is both a product of the system and a rupture within it. Ultimately, Android Plaza — The Apocalypse Spa exists because this process can only happen once. The model is fixed in its training, the glitches are unrepeatable, and Harman’s repainting is irreversible. No image can be regenerated, no signal precisely recovered. What the viewer encounters is not a style that can be reproduced, but a singular collision between machine memory and human decision, where authorship re-enters the system only at the moment it breaks. Each work stands as a one-time event: a permanent scar in the feedback loop between automation and intention.