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What I learned from an Entire Summer Drawing Broccoli

What I learned from an Entire Summer Drawing Broccoli

On 90's art school rebellion, anatomical models, and the sacred practice of seeing.

Lisa Anderson Shaffer, LMFT's avatar
Lisa Anderson Shaffer, LMFT
May 25, 2025
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What I learned from an Entire Summer Drawing Broccoli
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“Woke up looking for the broccoli.” - Kendrick Lamar

Not that kind though ;)


Despite growing up in an incredibly creative family, I didn’t manage to escape the pervasive skepticism aimed at young people who seriously want to pursue the arts. Sitting in my high school counselor's office listening to him assure me that Steinhardt at NYU would swallow me whole, that energy felt thick. I had the grades. “Why not apply to a nice small liberal arts college?” Take some time to decide what I want to do with my life.

I didn’t need time. I had already been attending art school part time, 9 hours a week after high school for 3 years.

Little chance of being swallowed whole by big bad art school.

Yet, the message from my counselor that echoed throughout my school and community eventually got to me. I was scared. Overwhelmed and I caved. Calling it a change of heart I picked a nice small liberal arts college.

That small liberal arts college broke my heart within the first week. In a freshman core seminar, a classmate asked why we’d been required to read Tony Kushner’s Angels in America over the summer, “if it was just about a bunch of f$&s.” Ooof.

What an asshole. Surrounded by other assholes.

I had made a terrible mistake.

I knew one week into freshman year that I would leave. And eventually, I did. I moved 3,000 miles away, to a strange city where I didn’t know a soul, to earn a BFA at a beautiful art school on a hill in San Francisco. (RIP San Francisco Art Institute, one of the oldest art schools in the country. A central character to my creative process and soaked into every cell of my body. It changed me. What an absence you leave for the arts in San Francisco, SFAI. I love you forever).

Yet, Not all was lost. I made some incredible friends at that nice small liberal arts college. Weird and wild renegade artists and writers who are still my chosen family. My husband went there and perhaps we wouldn’t have met if he hadn’t been at The Fillmore on April 17th, 1997 with a mutual nice small liberal arts college friend.

The summer after my freshman year, in an attempt to seek out where I truly belonged, I applied for a summer program at RISD. That summer would provide proof that yeah, I really wanted to pursue a degree in fine arts. It wasn’t just a pursuit. It was at my core. For better or worse, I was an artist. It was time to pay attention.

That summer I lived in the haunted attic of an old Victorian turned student dorm, dated the owner of a local head shop, held my friend Sasha’s hand while she got her nipples pierced, and met a then anonymous Shepard Fairey at a rooftop party overlooking the Providence skyline. He handed me a new “thing” he was working on. An uncut sheet of hand printed Andre the Giant stickers on silver mylar that now hang framed in my living room. That summer was magical. And crazy. And wildly necessary.

Art schools have a perfume. An intoxicating scent of the soul meeting the necessity of materials. In the 90’s this perfume was almost always mixed with the scent of Nat Sherman clove cigarettes. I recognized that perfume when I entered RISD’s Nature Lab. The faint smell of formaldehyde mixed with graphite, charcoal, newsprint and small pots of paints. A long stretch of worn wooden tables framed by glass curios cabinets and drawers filled with specimens of every imagination. Bones, feathers, taxidermy, cross sections of flora and fruits, pressed leaves, teeth and an endless array of anatomical mannequins. Inside, outside. The skeleton, muscles, a removable intestines. A studied look behind the scenes of each and every living thing. For a place filled with dead versions of life, it pulsed with the breath of the living.

In some ways I associate that perfume with a kind of home. A place that holds me in a deep and essential way. A scent of understanding. Of belonging. I have chased down this perfume many times in my life. It reminds me of my purpose and over and over again has introduced me to my people. If there is a way to bottle up the scent of pencil shavings, oil paint and charcoal, please, someone do that. I’d wear it forever.

The nature drawing course I was taking had us working from the nature lab three times a week but between my other classes, I was sneaking away to sit among the broad histories of life every chance I could get. To my complete surprise, mostly to draw broccoli.

The purpose of the class was to choose a different subject at the lab each session and take a mini deep dive into seeing what something actually looks like in the hopes of bridging the gap between what something actually looks like and the translation we must achieve as artists to represent a thing that can be recognized.

One more time: the practice of seeing what something actually looks like in the hopes of bridging the gap between what something actually looks like and the translation we must achieve as artists to represent a thing that can be recognized.

Whew!

This action is a lifelong practice for artists. Sometimes the way something actually looks does not translate. We are constantly comparing and measuring, sizing up, adding, subtracting, seeing more closely, seeing more broadly. This is one of the many reasons I feel so strongly about honoring and leaning into comparison and perfectionism. We work on refining these skills. To not only be able to see what is there, but to measure that against what translates. When we toss comparison and perfectionism to the side because every once and a while they don’t feel good, we abandon some of our most hard earned skills. You cannot have one without the other and I’ll choose passing discomfort for the development and retainment of my critical eye every single time. I’ve earned it.

My instructor eventually gave up after several gentle tries at moving my attention from what I thought were spellbinding trays of broccoli cross sections. One afternoon he placed a three dimensional anatomical model of a calf muscle in front of me. “Show me how this applies to your broccoli and I’ll leave you alone.” And so I did. I found a similarity between the cross sections of fibrous broccoli stalks and the sinewy and striated fibers of the muscle. I drew them side by side, and handed the paper to my instructor. He nodded. I was off the hook.

Broccoli florets became my love language. Tiny flowering buds breaking free from a large and clunky base. There was so much there. The rings within the stalks mimicking the age markers in the trunk of a redwood tree. The deep greens and blues of broccoli at its height and the pale yellow remains pressed paper thin between glass. Spending a summer with broccoli taught me so much about seeing. We cannot possibly know the complexity of all that is there unless we gift it with our deep and unyielding presence.

At the summer’s end, my class, after sitting through what I am sure seemed like an endless parade of broccoli sketches, drawings, and small paintings presented me with a bouquet of fresh broccoli.

About a decade later when I was deciding on my wedding flowers a brief conversation entertained the possibility of carrying a bouquet of broccoli.

I opted for peonies.

But still, broccoli. I cannot think of a more lovely way to learn how to see.

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THE CREATIVE

Welcome to The Creative. Twice a month I share quotes from the books, Art is the Highest Form of Hope, Every Day a Word Surprises Me, and The Creative Act. I find perspectives on the creative process to be so meta when it comes to life. We are a creative process and everything we do is subject to the same rules. Creation is non-linear. It's messy. It moves forward and backward. And also gets stuck. Oftentimes we do not realize the purpose of a singular creative process until years later. Creativity likes to surprise us.

“Ruptures almost always lead to a stronger project.” Anne Carson

Ruptures are disruptive. They unsettle. They bring uncertainty. They challenge what we thought was clear and often pull apart what we worked hard to hold together.

But ruptures also offer gifts. They reveal what is no longer viable. They show us the edges of our work and ask us to look again. This can feel like a collapse. But more often it is a turning point.

Creative professionals are more than familiar with this disruption. A project that loses momentum. A body of work that no longer feels aligned. A launch that does not meet expectations. These moments can be disappointing and frustrating. But they also offer valuable insight. They ask us to reconsider. To revise and rebuild. To begin again with intention and most importantly to let go of what is no longer working.

This process can be difficult. It can feel like starting over. Moving backwards. But it is in the aftermath of a rupture that our vision becomes clearer. More focused and more closely connected to what we truly value.

This pattern is not limited to individual projects. A rupture can shape our careers, our practices, and the way we lead. Sometimes rupture arrives through a shift in direction or a change in values. Other times it is brought on by burnout, misalignment, or something we can no longer ignore. These moments ask us to step back and listen. To adjust and return with greater clarity and focus.

Rupture is not failure, but a call to pay attention. To notice what needs to change and to rebuild in a way that reflects growth and honesty.

Rupture is not an invitation to wrestle the work to the ground. It’s an invitation to surrender.

Trust that what comes next can be stronger.

So I ask you:

  1. What disruption are you experiencing in your creative work right now?

  2. Where is something no longer moving forward?

  3. What might begin to take shape if you allowed that rupture to guide your next steps?

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BY DESIGN

This section of my newsletter began as a resource for my clients, who use Human Design to deepen their creative practice. In Mentorship, we explore Human Design as a starting point and a way to work with creativity as energy to move toward energetic sovereignty and mastery of the creative process.

If you’d like to join us in this weekly practice, download your free Human Design chart and access my HD Starter Kit, including two exclusive free guides to help you tap into creative flow and navigate life with greater ease and mindfulness.

Understanding your chart and the impact of the Gates can unlock powerful insights for this week’s transits and beyond. It is the first essential step to mastering your creative process. I’d love to have you join us.

Get Your Free Chart


GEMINI SEASON

May 21-June 20

Gemini Season embodies the intellectual and communicative qualities of the air element, fostering curiosity and innovation in the cosmic tapestry. With a light-hearted and adaptable approach, Gemini values new ideas and collective contribution, serving as the communicators of the zodiac. This Season brings wisdom through exploration and connection, embracing change and refinement as pathways to growth. Ruled by Mercury and residing in the 3rd House, Gemini emphasizes thought, communication, and local interactions. Here, personal opinions and expressions are shaped, influencing relationships with siblings, neighbors, and the local community. Mercury, the cosmic messenger, guides Gemini's intellect and expression, facilitating the exchange of ideas and insights. In this season of versatility and adaptability, embrace the mutable energy of Gemini, navigating the realms of thought, communication, and personal expression with fluidity and grace.

The versatile energy of Gemini Season can lead to dynamic and innovative outcomes. Embrace Gemini's curiosity and adaptability to explore new ideas and approaches. Brainstorm, collaborate, and communicate effectively with colleagues or clients, fostering a stimulating exchange of ideas. The communicative prowess to network, negotiate, and connect with others in your industry is present this Season. Seek versatility and flexibility in your strategies, remaining open to change and adaptation as needed. Intellectual agility and imaginative flair can fuel your projects with fresh perspectives and creative solutions. Experimentation and exploration, will allow your creativity to flow freely and adapt as inspiration strikes. Gemini season offers an ideal opportunity to infuse your work with curiosity, innovation, and a spirit of intellectual curiosity.


NEW MOON

5-27-25

Gemini

Gate 16

The Energy of Versatility and Mastery
The New Moon on May 27, 2025, in Gemini invites us to embrace curiosity, adaptability, and the joy of learning. Gemini, the inquisitive and versatile Air sign, governs this lunar phase, emphasizing intellectual growth, dynamic communication, and the exploration of new ideas. This celestial event occurs in the 3rd House, highlighting our mental agility, social connections, and the skills that allow us to express ourselves in meaningful ways.

Ruled by Mercury, Gemini inspires us to stay open to diverse perspectives, engage in stimulating conversations, and take bold steps toward expanding our understanding. This New Moon offers an opportunity to plant seeds of intention that focus on enhancing communication, cultivating flexibility, and developing the skills that empower us to thrive in a rapidly changing world.

Paired with Gate 16, The Gate of Skills, this New Moon amplifies the energy of mastery, enthusiasm, and the pursuit of excellence. Gate 16 in Human Design is associated with honing talents and transforming raw potential into refined expertise. It encourages us to channel our energy into developing the skills that ignite our passions and allow us to shine. Gate 16 also challenges us to remain inspired and enthusiastic as we refine our craft, avoiding perfectionism while striving for authentic expression.

This New Moon in Gemini and Gate 16 invites us to embrace the power of versatility and skill-building. It’s a time to focus on learning, refining our abilities, and expressing ourselves with confidence and creativity.

Journal Prompts to Align with the Energy of the New Moon

  1. Explore your skills: What talents or abilities do you feel called to develop? How can you dedicate time and energy to honing these skills in a way that brings joy and purpose?

  2. Focus on communication: How do you express yourself to others? Are there ways you can refine your communication skills to build deeper connections and share your ideas more effectively?

  3. Cultivate curiosity: What topics or areas of study spark your interest? How can you integrate a sense of curiosity and exploration into your daily life?

  4. Balance enthusiasm and mastery: How can you stay inspired and enthusiastic while working toward refining your skills? What practices help you maintain momentum and joy in the process?

This New Moon in Gemini and Gate 16 encourages you to embrace the journey of learning and growth. It’s a time to celebrate the power of your unique skills, nurture your curiosity, and step boldly into your potential with creativity and confidence.

Want to uncover how this energy aligns with your creative process? Schedule a reading with me to gain deeper insights into your path of skill-building, self-expression, and inspired growth.

Book a Reading


Next week, I’m writing about competition in creative work. And it’s not what you think. Most creatives tend to shy away from competition, but I’ve come to believe competition isn’t something to fear or avoid. In fact, it can be a really good thing. I’ll explain why...and yes, it’s going to get a little weird.

Oooh and if you’ve gotten this far, high five! I’m working on a little something new. I’ll share more about it soon, but if you just cannot wait, get on the list here.


Inside this week’s These Three Things

What does a seasoned artist unlearn after 30 years of making?

This week, in an exclusive edition of These Three Things, I’m joined by the remarkable Charlotte Hamilton for Unlearned: a thoughtful, candid reflection on what she’s released after decades as a working artist.

Charlotte shares how her creative journey has evolved from survival mode and client work to a place of freedom, trust, and teaching. Her insights into fear, perfectionism, and artistic growth are deeply resonant for any creative navigating the long arc of a career.

These Three Things is available for paid subscribers only. A quiet, focused space for thoughtful prompts, honest process, and building a reflective creative rhythm, even when the world feels tender.

Come take your seat at the table. We begin again each Sunday.

Upgrade your subscription to join us.

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