Today in London I went to an art supplies store.  I had an idea for a picture that I wanted to make, but I didn’t know how to make it, because my experience of making pictures is limited to two particular domains only – black line drawings, sometimes coloured in, on white paper for flipcharts and cards.

The art supplies shop assistant was an expert in helping inexperienced customers.  Patiently, she asked questions that helped her track from her vast experience right to the door of my very narrow experience, and my even narrower requirements (despite the narrow experience I have very specific parameters).

The result I wanted to capture was large-scale simple black line drawings coloured in as if with felt-tips.  Slowly we cycled through the options; acrylic paint ‘pens’ (no, too much like paint), watercolour ‘pens’ (too much variation in shade when used to colour in – due to layering, apparently), fine-liners (too fine), and then a kind of brush-like felt-tippish pen (not sure of the technical description) that came closest to matching on the little tester note book the idea carried somewhat stubbornly in my mind.  Even better, this pen was available in the large multi-coloured set and a myriad additional subtle shades that I had been hoping for.  I was on the brink of realising the vision I had earlier attempted to capture in my email to Caran d’ache customer services asking if they made (/request that they would invent) flipchart pen versions of my favourite felt-tips (no reply).

But the process did not finish there.  In my mind’s eye, and slightly deluded by my perception of its ‘proper artist’ status, I had thought of drawing straight on to a (admittedly pre-prepared) canvas, but, it turned out, the effect I was looking for (a dye rather than paint effect) would not work on canvas.  So the process started again, watercolour paper (no, too bumpy), cartridge paper (too thin), mountboard (too thick) and so on to something called ‘papier epais’ (thick paper, extra appealing in French) which seemed just right – but I would need a larger size.

My raw materials selection afternoon has reminded me of a profound truth.  Each of us constitutes the ‘raw materials for some particular kinds of creation.  In the art shop, I could choose the raw materials for my vision.  In real life, it is the raw materials that are given, and my role is the expression of these into the artistic work of living a life.  The shop assistant reveals the a great call to a deep understanding of the raw materials of each other, so that we can have expectations that suit the roles others are equipped to play, and that our collaborations in relationships, in work, in community life match what each is able to offer with what each is able to receive.  This is creative work that never ends.