Lucia Wilcox’s sculpture from 1968–70 is striking in its extreme simplicity. A single oval, gently tapered form is elevated on a slender metal rod above a rectangular wooden base, giving the work an almost weightless presence. The contrast between the soft, rounded white volume and the rigid geometry of the support creates a quiet tension between organic form and constructed structure.

The sculpture’s shape is deliberately ambiguous. It can suggest an egg, a seed, a head, or a primordial natural form, yet Wilcox avoids any specific representation. This openness allows the viewer to respond to the work through proportion, surface, and balance rather than narrative. The slightly porous texture of the white material preserves a sense of the hand and prevents the object from becoming overly polished or impersonal.

Made during the late 1960s, the sculpture reflects Wilcox’s broader movement toward distilled, biomorphic abstraction. By isolating a single form and lifting it away from the base, she turns an elemental shape into something meditative and almost totemic. The result is a work of remarkable restraint, in which simplicity becomes the source of both its mystery and its presence.