Mari Andrew is a New York Times bestselling author, artist, and speaker, who has gained an international reputation for joyfully philosophical illustrations and essays that meander between deep and light, bitter and sweet. Mari is in the business of paying attention, and her work reflects her specific observations turned into universal life lessons. As writer Suleika Jaouad says, “At each turn, she uncovers hard-earned coins of wisdom in the most unlikely places.”
Mari Andrew didn’t formally study writing or art, but her fabulously strange life path filled with stints in food service and retail, working multiple jobs in foreign countries, profound grief and heartbreak, mental health struggles, lots of solo travels, and a very odd serious disease, has prepared her well for a lifetime of appreciating and documenting each moment with equal attentiveness.
Mari currently lives in New York City, which is where she finds both creative spark and inner peace.
From Mari’s latest book, My Inner Sky, whiCH is basiCally her mission statement:
I love positive affirmations and intentional candles as much as the next millennial, but after a couple of years coming up heartbroken or just bored after striving for unsustainable happiness, I looked inside and thought, “Isn’t this all beautiful too?” When I finally gave up positive thinking for present thinking, that’s when I really began not only to get comfortable with this transitional period, but to see the beauty in it.
Giving my transitions as much attention and curiosity as my brightest after- noons has helped me appreciate the inner sky I’m continually trying to make more colorful. Who wants a sky that is blue all the time?
Give me some clouds, some rain, the occasional crazy lightning storm that makes your cat hide in the pile of socks in your closet.
Give me a night so dark it looks like a wall finished with black lacquer—the perfect backdrop for stars, an outdoor dance party, or an existential cry.
Give me early mornings where I’m rushing to the airport, to work, or to get coffee before the Sunday morning crowds, where I’m taken aback that the light is still pink and I think of the day as a newborn
Give me breezes, still air, rainbows, and those giant cumulonimbus clouds that look like friendly ancient grandfathers.
I want the full menu, everything available to me in this life: dark, bright, that purply-pink weird twilight color, and golden.