Womb Of Creation

Womb of Creation, Oil Painting Detail with bright blue universe
Abstract ethereal oil painting with swirling color and a white center circle, by Siobhan Bedford

A few nights ago…

I heard the peepers, like distant trumpets proclaiming the arrival of daffodils in my little garden. The moon was out too, she was glowing white in the shape of a fingernail, scratching her way across the inky sky.

Leaning back my head to see the stars come out, one by one, I thought of exploding super novas and black holes that never have their fill.

Gazing out of my blue eyes, from this blue planet into the deepening darkness.

I thought. No…it wasn’t thinking…it was just an inkling of something, I really can’t grasp.

A sense of a current running through my nerves, ready to burst beyond awe and swallow me with the immensity of it all.

Looking out, I realize that within I’m pulled back by my own black holes of wanting and deep desire to set fuses to everything.

It is an impossible place. That holds the possibility of art.

To paint an inkling.

To let the current run and rush out into electric colors, shapes and light.

To make art, where there was none before.

To know that I’m in this place that exists at the cross roads of meaningful and meaningless. To see the fingertip of heaven pointing to this place that glows on the map of my life.

A few nights ago…

I peered off the edge of my planet, listening to the proclamations of peepers.

I was swirling in the womb of creation.

I have no idea if my words make much sense to you, but I’m grateful that you cared to read. Sometimes, I just like to write out what is floating around in my mind. Doing it made me realize this painting is finished. You might have remembered reading about naming it and if you are curious about seeing how it got started check out the before photo’s here

Tell me…have ever found yourself lost under stars?


Start Planning Your Art Adventure

Saturday, May 21 10-6pm

Sunday, May 22 11-5pm

Bring all your fellow art lovers to check out my messy little studio and enjoy a stroll in my garden…I’ll have light refreshments for you too.

Come say hello and see works in progress and maybe leave as a collector!

“Lava Swirl”6″x 6″, oil on board, framed

This  painting will be available for purchase for only $75 as part of the County Collectors Club. It is your chance to become a collector!

“The farthest galaxies have been turned on.” – Wistawa Szymborska

Oh… I wanted to share this poem with you too…

“Life While-You-Wait” by Nobel Prize winner Wistawa Szymborska

I heard a recording by Amanda Palmer and was really stuck by the line “The farthest galaxies have been turned on.”  I thought so much about those words while making this painting. They make me feel like, life is right now and what I do matters even if I can’t understand because it only makes sense from far away.


Life While-You-Wait.
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it.

I have to guess on the spot
just what this play’s all about.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for happy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

Words and impulses you can’t take back,
stars you’ll never get counted,
your character like a raincoat you button on the run ?
the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness.

If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).

You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz
taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.
The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
will become forever what I’ve done.

~ Wislawa Szymborska ~
Poems New and Collected 1957-1997, trans. S. Baranczak and C. Cavanagh


Author Siobhan


More posts by Siobhan

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.