Q: Why did you do this in Malika’s style?
A: Who is Malika?
Portfolios give me a glimpse into what design education is doing — and generally, allow me to measure the pulse on what’s trending. Because portfolios do reveal trends.
The problem with trends: the flavour of the moment is what every young designer is trying to replicate.
This brings me to Malika.
Malika Favre is always a popular and timeless entry in students’ portfolios. Actually — not just students. There are numerous YouTube videos that teach you how to instantly achieve her style.
Even big brands rip it off shamelessly. For example, W for Woman.
Although her illustrations are deceptively simple, her process is not. If you were among the 1,500 people who heard her speak in Goa at Designyatra 2015, you know that.
For example this series of illustrations on Canary Island –
… came from careful, patient observation of the island itself.
Malika’s style didn’t come from Pinterest or a YouTube tutorial. It came from years of carefully observing places and internalising those observations — perfecting the balance of light and shadow, positive and negative space, executed with minimal colour to achieve maximum visual impact. None of that can be contained in a how-to video.
Don’t tell me imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. There’s only one Malika. Don’t even try to be Malika.
By that extension — there’s only one ____________, so don’t even try to be ___________.
But here’s what troubles me more than the imitation.
More than likely, the student who did this chanced upon Malika’s work on a Pinterest board curated by someone they’ll never trace. Cropped heavily, reduced to a reference image, no credit to the original artist.
The student picks up the style. Starts doing their own versions — woman, green leaves, reflection on her shades. Never knowing it was in fact a gorgeous poster made for Ville de Lausanne.
Frankly, the question “Who is Malika?” always breaks my heart.
Inspired by and paying homage to is different from appropriating a style without knowing the original creator’s work. Blame it on Google. Blame it on Pinterest. But mostly — blame it on a design education that teaches technique without teaching history.
I recently attended a conference where a speaker was showing off a series of type installations using everyday materials paired with provocative copy. It disturbed me.
It is impossible for a seasoned designer not to immediately think of Stefan Sagmeister’s type installation works.
An installation I actually saw — by being in Amsterdam at the right time and visiting the right place. https://sagmeister.com/work/obsessions-make-my-life-worse-but-my-work-better/
There’s only one Stefan. Presenting work that has almost been Stefan™ to an audience of designers — that’s a risk worth thinking twice about.
And yet. Someone in that audience will inevitably ask: “Who is Stefan?”
That’s the part that should worry all of us. Not the copying. The not knowing.
Who is Malika?
https://www.commarts.com/features/malika-favre
https://medium.com/@eleanorksmith98/malika-favre-7d184c1849df
Who is Stefan?
https://sagmeister.com/work/things-i-have-learned-in-my-life-so-far/
