In “The Metamorphosis of Chaos,” I seek the moment when disorder ceases to be a threat and becomes fertile ground. The work was built up through successive layers: rubbing, covering, scraping, and reworking. Each step leaves a trace, like a memory of gestures and deliberate decisions. The palette—browns, rusts, beiges, ochres, and softened greens—borrows from natural hues: earth, clay, and vegetation. It echoes current environmental concerns, where the climate crisis compels us to rethink our living spaces. Here, chaos does not herald the end: it becomes the tipping point of a possible reconstruction. As the surface becomes denser, vertical and horizontal lines appear: they do not “erase” the chaos, but rather offer it structure, a framework for breathing. Colored rectangles punctuate the composition like landmarks—fragments of a transforming urban landscape—where nature reclaims its noble, essential place. I see a metaphor in this work: after a rupture, rebuilding involves letting air, light, and life circulate. Introducing more greenery, freshness, and breathing space into our cities is also about seeking well-being for residents and providing a response, on our scale, to the need to limit the effects of greenhouse gases. Between organic and geometric, matter and structure, "The Metamorphosis of Chaos" opens a path toward a balance that is both sensitive and profoundly alive. Between organic and geometric, matter and structure, "The Metamorphosis of Chaos" opens a path toward a balance that is both sensitive and profoundly alive.