COFFEE WITH
AMALIA ANDRADE: “IT ALL STARTED WITH A VERY BROKEN HEART”
Name: Amalia Andrade
Profession: Writer & Illustrator
Nationality: Colombian
Zodiac Sign: Aquarius
Instagram: @amaliaandrade_
This Coffee With is an adaptation of Episode 15 of The Latinness Podcast featuring Colombian author and illustrator Amalia Andrade. This interview is the first in a trilogy presented by Cartier, celebrating 100 years of the iconic Trinity collection—a lasting symbol of love, friendship, and fidelity. In this series, we explore the stories of three extraordinary creatives whose work and lives embody these values.
The following is an excerpt from our conversation with Amalia, where she shares the inspiration behind her books “Uno siempre cambia el amor de su vida por otro amor o por otra vida”, “Cosas que piensas cuando te muerdes las uñas” (2017), “Tarot magicomístico de estrellas pop” (2018), and her most recent work, “No sé cómo mostrar dónde me duele” (2023). Amalia discusses how she has overcome imposter syndrome and perfectionism through her art, her experiences as an openly queer woman, and much more.
Images by Andres Oyuela
On the process of writing her first book.
AMALIA: It all started with a very broken heart. My heart was broken—badly, deeply. I’ve been writing since I was very young; I remember the exact moment I realized that being a writer was a viable profession. I was reading Little Women and saw that the protagonist, Jo March, was a writer. That’s when I thought, Wait a minute—hold on—this is an actual profession! From that day on, I wanted to be a writer.
As I mentioned, my heart was completely shattered, and I thought, There must be a book out there to help someone navigate this. Then I said, I’m going to write it. I want to write it.
I had been working in the publishing industry for a long time. I had published in different magazines, and then a publisher approached me and said, Make a pitch, a proposal. So I had to sit down and do everything very professionally and seriously. That’s how Uno siempre cambia el amor de su vida por otro amor o por otra vida was born.
It wasn’t magic—it never is. Sometimes, I do feel like there was an element of good luck, and of course, a big part of my career had to do with luck or with something beautiful that I don’t even want to name. But I also have to say—I was the nerdiest of them all. I knew the names of every editor in Colombia and Latin America, I knew how the publishing process worked, when you needed an agent and when you didn’t. You have to be prepared…
On perfectionism and venturing into illustration.
AMALIA: I believe that a large part of my work is dedicated to error. I’m a perfectionist; living inside my head is not fun. It’s something I talk about a lot in therapy: I suffer from imposter syndrome and from feeling that my work could always be better, that it’s not up to the standards.
My creative practice is deeply connected to my life experience, to how I approach life, to how I go through it, to how I integrate the good and the bad that happens to me. It’s also a space of expansion and healing. This was something I discovered by living with this voice, which has been with me since I was very young.
I realized that I had to stop fearing the error, that there’s magic in the error, and that within it is also the voice. I understood that I had to lose the fear of failure, because otherwise, I would never do anything. Once I made peace with the error, I realized that it was easier for me in drawing than in writing. Perhaps because I have a background in literature, but not as an illustrator, so I give myself the freedom to say, Well, I still don’t know what I’m doing.
When I started drawing, I discovered its therapeutic powers. You mothers out there know that when a baby enters this world, they’re born ready to listen to music. For example, no one has to explain to them that they can dance; you play music for your baby, and they just do it.
The same thing happens with drawing: once a child has grip capability, if you give them a crayon, they instinctively know that it’s for scribbling. So what happens? Drawing is often preverbal—that is, those first scribbles happen before we have fully developed language. That’s why drawing allows us to access parts of ourselves that don’t necessarily settle in the verbal. It’s a very beautiful space for healing, and it’s from that place that I do my illustration practice.
On humor and mental health.
AMALIA: Humor is what gets me through deeply sad things; it’s my tool to navigate difficulties.
There’s a trend on TikTok and social media: “my traumas, my jokes,” and it’s 100% true. For me, humor is the place from which I heal my traumas. That’s why, when it comes to heartbreak and grief—topics of my first book—along with fears and anxieties, which are the themes of my second book, it was so important to talk about them with humor.
Humor is wonderful because it disarms you, and when it does, you understand things better. In a world where we are so filled with information, just having it at our fingertips doesn’t mean we’re integrating it. We’re not.
That’s what happens with mental health: there’s a lot of information, but then you hear someone telling a story, and all you can think is, “Friend, why haven’t you gone to a psychiatrist?” Some respond, “No, what if they give me pills?”Well, it’s no big deal—you take them, and that’s it. It’s like when you’re about to cross a swamp and someone tells you to put on boots… you put them on.
In conclusion, humor and art ultimately have the power to reach you and make you understand things that information on its own can’t.
To listen to the full conversation, click here.
