And, they also teach… Federico Antelo Granero, Visual Artist, Textile Designer and Educator

What happens when the creative process becomes the central focus of design education? Federico Antelo Granero, visual artist, textile designer, and current director of the fashion school at the Istituto Europeo di Design (IED) in Madrid, answers this question from his own practice. Trained in Fine Arts and with professional experience in the fashion industry, Antelo combines artistic practice with a pedagogy that emphasizes reflection, personal exploration, and student autonomy.

This interview is part of "And, They Also Teach...", a series published by FashionUnited in which we speak with fashion professionals who, in addition to building their careers in the industry, also teach at prestigious design schools. In this conversation, Antelo Granero reflects on the challenges of teaching without imposing, the role of artificial intelligence, the myths that persist in fashion education, and the need to broaden professional horizons beyond traditional paths.

What is the most challenging aspect of teaching while also working as an active professional?

Without a doubt, making sure that my aesthetics, personal taste, and interests don’t influence my teaching. Students often say to me, “You must love this person’s work because it’s similar to yours,” and generally that’s not the case. I tend to be interested in things that have little to do with what I like or normally do, and I try not to let my personal taste affect how I evaluate or engage with their work.

In your opinion, is fashion education preparing students to succeed or just to survive?

Maybe this has to do with how we’re working here, but I’d say neither. At least at IED, what we’re doing is helping students make their projects and interests possible. We have very diverse profiles—some students want to work for a big fast fashion brand or an international luxury label, and others are more interested in projects that lean towards art or one-of-a-kind pieces. Some focus on sustainability, or on preserving traditional techniques and crafts—something especially relevant here in Spain, where there’s a rich cultural heritage in that area.

For us, success is about bringing a project to life—not economic or commercial success.

What should fashion education unlearn?

I think it should unlearn the idea that there is only one path—like working for brands or starting your own label, which supposedly requires massive investment. We need to learn that there are many other possible models. Most importantly, we need to unlearn the notion that fashion is tied to increasingly rapid cycles and disposability. That idea is linked to fast, cheap fashion. If we shift that mindset, we can connect fashion to different ways of consuming that align with new types of projects. That’s why I prefer to speak of "clothing" or "garment design," because the word "fashion" inherently implies obsolescence, while "clothing" isn’t tied to time.

How do you help students find their own voice in such a saturated market?

In the class I teach, we do an exercise on hybridization where we combine fashion or garment design with another discipline, like architecture, product design, or furniture design. I ask them to think about a garment that emerges from merging these two worlds. We don’t talk about typologies, because working beyond garments opens new paths and unexpected things start to emerge.

We also do color exercises, looking for unexpected combinations. Through that, they begin to develop their own language.

Do you think artificial intelligence could ever fully replace human participation in fashion education?

No, thankfully not. I remember the first time I saw AI-generated images—whether fashion-related or not—they were impressive and exciting because they felt completely new. But then you reach a point where it becomes overwhelming and less interesting. I think AI will end up being just what it is: one more tool to support design. I don’t believe it will replace education—not at all.

Are there any fashion-world myths you try to dismantle in your classes?

I’d say all of them. I believe every “truth” should be questioned, and I tell my students this—at least while they’re in an educational setting. This is the moment to question absolutely everything.

For example: For summer you should wear certain colors and for winter, others. I think that’s nonsense. Yet the industry still clings to these types of “truths.” Sure, there are logical reasons tied to materials, but things like volume for a certain body type or specific colors for a given season—those are myths worth dismantling.

If your students could only remember one phrase or moment from your class ten years from now, what would you want it to be?

I think it would be the word “process.” I always say: the process matters, not the result. For instance, in the class I teach—Creative Process Applied to Collection Design—I usually begin by explaining how we’ll work, laying out the structure in detail so we can later break away from it.

Often, after the first class, some students come up to me smiling and say they already know what they want to do. I tell them, “That’s exactly what we’re not going to do.” My reasoning is: we start classes in September, and if by then you already know what you’ll turn in at the end of January, why even go through October, November, December? I want them to know nothing until the moment they have to know. So it’s also about managing the anxiety of not knowing until the work builds itself.

And that, to me, is process. Even if the result turns out poorly—because the materials failed or the structure didn’t work—it doesn’t matter. We always document the process, and that’s what matters most in this subject.