A name that has shaped my life.
About my cartoon identity at right:
The tenuous balance between conformity (a British bobby’s police helmet) and freedom (heron).
Voila, Bobby Heron, or Bobbie Herron, as my folks spelled it.
I am the fourth generation of journal-keeping women in my family, starting in 1862. Writing and art-making (drawing and painting) have given a timeless, shareable shape to our lives. I hope this blog will inspire you to create your own illustrated journals, and that you will some day want to share them as well.
It is both ‘aloft’ and ‘a loft’, of course— I can’t resist a good play on words.
In 2014 I moved to a third-floor apartment, 43 steps above the street, in the old downtown section of my city. My loft has ten-foot ceilings, and I have exactly three windows, each seven feet tall, all facing north. When the landlord showed me the place he casually mentioned that back in the late 19th century, this whole top floor was one big room, and that local artists of the time rented it for studio space because it had such consistent north light. He had no idea that I was an artist as well.
Ah, now there’s a word. I am well aware that ‘inspire’ and ‘inhale’ are related, keenly aware by the time I have walked up all those stairs. On that summer day when I first saw this place, I was expecting a dark, dusty garret.
When Jeff unlocked and opened the door, I gasped. The room was flooded with light, had cream-colored walls, dark oak trim, an open galley kitchen to the left, and beyond it a space that was to become my delightful Art/Writing/Dining/Living Room.
I fell in love, and have counted myself lucky beyond words ever since.