Eggs One and Two
The first two of my almost-a-dozen eggs are the most straightforward pair:
They are monochromatic white, with no designs or added features. They are just eggs–or rather, really, not even quite eggs, for the bases that allow them to stand up join seamlessly into their egglike parts, making them look like eggs that come with their own already-attached egg cups–or, really, more like miniature versions of those bodiless mannequin heads that you sometimes see in stores in hat displays. They are actually, in their closeness to the appearance of real eggs, the most abstract and least representational of the entire almost-a-dozen. They could be read just as meaningless shapes rather than as trying to represent eggs. Putting them on a table alongside real eggs then might seem like an interesting comment on egginess and eating, on egg shapes that are edible and egg shapes that are not–or they might just sit there looking like shakers with vaguely ovoid tops and not evoke the idea of eggs at all. They are, unlike most of the other nine eggs in my collection, not the least bit cute, and not the least bit evocative of any of our standard linguistic connections with eggs and egginess–birds, chicks, laying, etc.