The Fractured Horizon: Chaos and Tranquility in Antibes

Claude Monet’s  The Big Blue at Antibes originally captured the Mediterranean coastline bathed in the shimmering dance of light and water. However, in this reimagined dadaist interpretation, the landscape transforms into a fractured reality—one half bound by the fiery chaos of destruction, the other by the eerie calm of a desolate, surreal future. 

At the heart of this composition lies a stark contrast: on the left, an erupting volcano spews molten fire, its lava carving rivers of destruction into the earth. The ocean, once a serene body of reflection, now convulses with waves, mirroring the sky above, where a blue planet looms ominously. This celestial body, bathed in cold moonlight, appears almost too close—suggesting either an apocalyptic shift in the cosmos or a rift in time itself. Jagged black smoke curls into the heavens, mingling with the shattered remnants of a world that once thrived. 

On the right side, the environment shifts into an arid, almost dystopian terrain. A monumental, torn fabric structure—reminiscent of a discarded relic—towers over a ruined cityscape. The ground, littered with dry grass and broken earth, seems untouched by the fire but marked by the quiet decay of time. A lone zebra, seemingly out of place, meanders across this barren expanse, embodying nature’s persistence despite human absence. Above, a single bird perches on a broken branch, a solitary witness to the landscape’s evolution. 

The colors of this work convey the tension between destruction and survival. The left side is dominated by fiery oranges, deep reds, and searing blacks, symbolizing chaos, aggression, and the raw power of nature’s fury. In stark contrast, the right side is washed in subdued yellows, cool blues, and dusty browns, representing erosion, time’s slow decay, and the eerie quiet of an abandoned world. The piercing blue of the celestial body in the background serves as an anchor, drawing the eye toward a future unknown—a place that exists outside of time and place. 

As an artist, my vision for  The Fractured Horizon: Chaos and Tranquility in Antibes was to challenge the viewer’s perception of permanence. Monet’s impressionist work was about capturing fleeting moments, the way light shifted on the sea, the way the sky melted into the waves. In this version, I ask: What happens when time fractures? What if nature no longer moves in harmony but rather collides in paradoxes of creation and destruction? 

The zebra, standing between these two extremes, becomes the embodiment of resilience. It does not belong to either world—it is neither of fire nor of decay, yet it exists within both. Its presence suggests a migration, a silent adaptation to whatever fate unfolds. The towering fabric structure, with its torn edges, evokes the ruins of civilization—once structured, now yielding to the inevitable entropy of time. 

This piece reflects my fascination with the unpredictability of existence. It is about duality—the chaos we create and the landscapes we leave behind, the resilience of life and the weight of its impermanence. The viewer is left to choose their perspective: Is this a moment frozen before total collapse, or the first breath of a world being reborn?