In "Always on Duty," Mihai Marza fractures the retro-futurist domesticity of Rosie the Robot from The Jetsons into a vivid cacophony of labor, identity, and automation. With overlapping instances of the mechanical maid’s expressionless face, segmented limbs, and tidy apron, Marza conjures a portrait not of a singular character, but of endless replication—an infinite cycle of unseen service and emotional invisibility. The palette is stark and commanding: a binary of robotic blue and machineshop red, with accents of cold black to underscore the contrast. Rosie’s round head and vacant, circular eyes repeat across the canvas like industrial parts on an assembly line, while her feathered headdress—once whimsical—becomes almost militant. Below her, red-gloved hands and aprons multiply and blur, evoking the multitasking frenzy of perpetual caregiving, mechanized and unseen. The layered forms, interlocked and colliding, create a sense of cognitive overload—a visual overload mirroring the emotional tension beneath the polished chrome. Marza’s abstracted linework loops and spirals like tangled wiring, distorting the cheerful optimism of Hanna-Barbera’s mid-century future into something more frenetic, more true to our contemporary reality: a future not of leisure, but of overfunctioning. Rosie is not just a character here—she’s a cultural vessel. A figure designed for domestic labor and comic relief, now reframed as a symbol of emotional automation and the gendered burden of being "on duty" around the clock. Her red eyes, her stilled arms, her bound expressions—all speak to the exhaustion of service wrapped in circuitry. “Always on Duty” reads as a warning and a tribute. Marza recognizes the symbolic weight Rosie carries—not just as a pop icon, but as a blueprint for how technology and caregiving are still deeply entwined in our collective consciousness. Through this chaotic yet precise visual storm, he honors the hidden burnout beneath polished surfaces. It’s not just about Rosie. It’s about