Life on Repeat, the fourth installment of Camie Rigirozzi’s Discovering Humanity series, is a show in which the artist turns her attention to the patterns — emotional, societal, behavioral and psychological — that define our lived experience. This body of work confronts the behaviors we inherit, repeat, and sometimes break free from, offering a deeply reflective look at the repetition embedded in both personal histories and collective consciousness.
In Life on Repeat, Rigirozzi continues to trace the thread of humanity—this time by illuminating the echoes we live within and the moments where repetition gives way to revelation. Her work explores the behavioral patterns that, over time, accumulate into something greater than their individual parts: a life. Through rhythmic compositions, recurring motifs, and moments of accidental nuance, she examines how routine and ritual shape identity. With this series, Rigirozzi asks: How many repetitions does it take for a small, imperfect being to make sense of itself—to find context, become whole, and accept not only its form, but also its flaws?
While earlier chapters of Discovering Humanity explored emotion, boundaries, empathy, and vulnerability, Life on Repeat turns inward to examine the familiar, often uncomfortable rhythm of striving and surrender. These works live in the tension between the desire to get it right and the quiet permission to get it wrong. Rigirozzi invites viewers to witness the patterns they repeat—not to correct them, but to understand them. Here, mistakes are not erased; they are allowed to remain, forming part of the texture of the work and the self. Repetition becomes a gesture of both effort and acceptance—a space where imperfection is not failure, but truth.
In response, Life on Repeat does not offer resolution, but rather a gentle witnessing. Rigirozzi allows mistakes to remain—unhidden, uncorrected—acknowledging that the pursuit of perfection often lives alongside the acceptance of imperfection. The work embraces the cycles we return to, not as failures, but as evidence of our trying. In this space, repetition becomes a form of compassion: for who we were, who we are, and who we are still becoming.