It might be a selfish choice, but I find it quite difficult to

The words of John Rocha—“It might be a selfish choice, but I find it quite difficult to design for individuals and prefer the distance of larger schemes. It’s the same reason why, as a designer, I don’t do wedding dresses.”—reveal the burden of intimacy in creation. To design for the masses, for cities, or for visions that touch many, is to work in abstraction. But to design a wedding dress is to step into the innermost chamber of a single soul, to capture her dreams, fears, and expectations in one garment. This closeness demands a weight of responsibility few are willing to bear.

The distance of larger schemes offers freedom to the artist, for in them one may shape beauty without being tethered to the fragile hopes of one individual. Rocha’s words remind us that art, when made too intimate, risks breaking under the pressure of perfection. A bride does not ask only for fabric—she asks for memory, for eternity, for the embodiment of love itself. And to fail in that is not merely a technical flaw, but a wound inflicted upon her most sacred day.

History gives us the tale of Phidias, the sculptor of the Parthenon. In creating the grand visions of Athena in stone, he found glory, for the work spoke to all Athens. Yet had he been tasked with carving a single statue for one man’s grief, the burden would have been far heavier. To create for the multitude is to inspire; to create for one heart is to risk its breaking. Rocha’s avoidance of the wedding dress is thus not cowardice, but wisdom born of knowing his nature.

The wedding dress, unlike any other garment, is a relic even before it is worn. It will live in photographs, in memory, in stories told to children yet unborn. The pressure upon the designer is immense, for he must not only stitch fabric but weave destiny. Rocha’s refusal is therefore a recognition of the sanctity of that work, and the humility to step aside when his art lies elsewhere.

Therefore, O listener, learn this: not every artist is called to every task. Greatness lies not in attempting all things, but in knowing the limits of one’s gift and honoring the sacredness of what one chooses not to touch. The wedding dress demands a soul who can bear the intimacy of another’s dream. And if one turns away, it may not be selfishness, but reverence—for to abstain is also to honor the holiness of love’s most treasured garment.