I think there's something quietly rebellious about choosing to create something with your hands in a world obsessed with efficiency.
The first thing that really captivated me was the dial. The way it played with light, how every curve and texture seemed to blend together in perfect harmony, the intentional sharp edges highlighting form and function and having such a thin dial giving so much depth. There's something almost magical about a well-designed dial and handset, the way shadows move across a textured surfaces as the day goes by.
I remember crafting my first dial in that dim attic space, no power and warm sun light flooding through a small window. There was something deeply rewarding about shaping something so small with my own hands and listening to one audio book after another.
Here's what strikes me as beautifully human: we live in an age where a smartwatch can tell time more accurately than any mechanical watch, track your steps, answer your calls, and cost a fraction of what a handcrafted timepiece costs. Yet something in us still leans towards the seemingly pointless precision of mechanical craftsmanship.
I guess it’s something like building objects that carry meaning beyond their immediate purpose. When I admire a watch with almost childish awe in my eyes, I feel something that speaks to our desire for much needed appreciation in a world that often feels rushed and automated.
On this journey I felt there was more to ‘just’ build my own watch. A watch becomes intimate in a way few objects do. It touches your skin, moves with your pulse, becomes part of your daily ritual. There's something deeply personal about that morning moment when you put it onto your wrist. And you feel it missing the whole day when you forgot to put it on, on one of those rushed mornings.
One day it clicked and I felt this needs to be a part of this, crafting something personal that carries meaning. What if it could be a daily invitation to pause, to look - really look - at yourself without the distortion.
We all need gentle reminders sometimes, don't we? I think, we rarely take moments to truly see ourselves. And I don’t mean the version we think we should be, but the person we already are. Beautiful. Worthy. Enough.
Every time you glance at your wrist to check the time, there's a moment for a small pause. A breath. A moment to remember that you can wear this bright red scarf that usually feels like to much attention, or that is okay, that this one curl just woudn’t behave this moring and now dangles next to your face, starring into your face everytime you look into the mirror that day.
I keep coming back to this: there's something magical about choosing the slower path when faster ones exist. Magic in the process of shaping a component by hand. Magic in this endless pursuit of precision, not because it's practical, but because something deep inside us believes that it matters.
When you wear a mechanical watch, you're carrying a quiet rebellion. Against the disposable, the rushed, the always-efficient. You're wearing a reminder that some things are worth the extra time, the careful attention, the choice to create something meaningful rather than just consume.
I imagine the day when you fasten that watch around your wrist each morning. I hope it whispers something simple: You are enough. Just as you are. Take a moment. Look.
Because honestly? In a world that constantly asks us to be more, do more, achieve more, sometimes the most revolutionary thing we can do is simply recognize the quiet beauty of who we already are.
Just look.
