Lucia Wilcox’s sculpture from 1968–70 reflects her growing interest in reducing form to a language of organic volume and balance. Built from two rounded, interdependent elements, the work has the compact presence of a single organism while retaining a clear tension between its upper and lower masses. The larger form swells outward and folds inward at one side, creating a soft indentation that introduces movement into what might otherwise appear static. Beneath it, the smaller curved base acts almost like a cradle, supporting the upper volume while echoing its contours.

The white surface emphasizes the sculpture’s continuous silhouette and allows subtle changes in light to animate its shape. Rather than describing a specific object, Wilcox works through suggestion: the form can evoke a shell, seed, body, or landscape, but it remains deliberately unresolved. This ambiguity connects the sculpture to the biomorphic abstraction that had developed across European and American modernism, while its intimate scale and sensuous modeling give it a particularly personal character.

Made between 1968 and 1970, the sculpture shows Wilcox translating the intuitive qualities of her painting into three dimensions. Its strength lies in the relationship between weight and softness, enclosure and openness. The result is a quiet but highly concentrated work in which form appears almost to grow from itself, giving the sculpture a sense of organic inevitability.