It’s time to shed away the old and welcome the new—it’s the Year of the Snake after all. Like an unpredictable game of Snakes and Ladders, the highs and lows are consistent parts of life every child of the Zodiac goes through. So for added sparkles getting through the new year—for yourself or a significant other—we’ve curated items tailored to each characteristic from Raffles City Singapore, with illustrated assist by thejontan.
Chinese artist Wu Qiong’s interpretation of Guan Yu—a famed military general who served under the warlord Liu Bei—is what one wouldn’t necessarily associate with a fierce, deified warrior. Rounding out the facial features and immortalising an innocent expression, there’s a certain enigmatic quality to the artwork that’ll sit rather beautifully in the home of an equally enigmatic Snake.
Ode to Art
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This quilted tote bag may look all glossy and precious, but it’s actually quite the workhorse. Crafted from a foundation of upcycled nylon with kappa leather trims, the CABaN by Patricia Urquiola piece is entirely padded for both comfort and aesthetic. Its roomy interior means that you’re able to lug just about anything, while its make allows the bag to be relatively lightweight and sturdy at the same time.
LUMINE
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The first film in the planned Creation of the Gods trilogy was released in 2023 and is already regarded as one of the GOATs of Chinese cinema. BOSS references the epic film’s typography and patterns of bronzeware of the Shang and Zhou dynasties, creating a double-B monogram in a gold tone that’s affixed like a military badge of honour. In other words, perfect for future and upcoming GOATs.
BOSS
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Any man who’s smart and sharp (you know, like the Monkey) would know that a red lip is one of the sexiest things a woman could wear. Guerlain’s special edition of its customisable lipstick is a fiery combination of two contrasting shades, with a marbled bullet inspired by the undulations of a snake. And to top it all off, a collector’s jewel case is decorated with a textured finish that’s both artistic and luxurious. You know what to do, guys.
Guerlain
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We all can’t innately be like the Rooster and get up at the crack of dawn every single time. But with a little assistance, we can definitely be the proverbial early bird. Bacha Coffee’s gift set of six varieties of coffee ensures that your mornings will be off to a great start as your senses are awaken by the discovery of new smells and tastes of the unique harvests.
Bacha Coffee
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There’s a sense of prudence embedded in Givenchy Beauty’s Prisme Libre Skin-Caring Glow Cushion—it’s right in the name. The liquid foundation isn’t just mere makeup; it also has skincare benefits. The formulation promises 24 hours of glow, wear, and hydration, all while being water-resistant. It also protects from daily UV exposure, which is a definite non-negotiable in today’s climate. And look, you could very well gift this to her, but it’s 2025, men wear makeup too.
Givenchy Beauty
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If golf is something you’ve recently picked up and intend on keeping diligent at (a very overlooked Pig trait), the right fit is needed. DESCENTE’s lightweight duo consisting of a golf cap and a polo T-shirt are the kind of golfing essentials you’d want to buy multiples of. The former is designed with side vents for better comfort and enhanced moisture-wicking, and the latter offers UPF100+ protection while you’re upping your game with each swing.
DESCENTE
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Nibble your way into the new year with a splendid assortment of 24 Venchi chocolates—including the brand's signature Chocoviar. Because you're kind like the Rat, gifting them to spread some much needed festive cheer is made easier with the vibrant gift box that they're packed in. But if you'd rather indulge in one for every single day of Chinese New Year, no one will judge too—they're that good.
Venchi
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Concocted by Dominique Ropion, HOPE is both a celebration of oud as an essence and the human emotion it’s named after. Smoky and leathery oud notes are balanced with the freshness of pink pepper, the warmth of vetiver, and the depth of incense. The fragrance truly unfolds over time, opening up to one who observes and is patient enough to discover its true intricacies—much like hope itself. This new year, be determined like the Ox to have hope in everything.
Editions De Parfums Frédéric Malle
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Like its namesake, there’s no telling what Onitsuka Tiger would come up with as a new interpretation of its beloved MEXICO 66 silhouette. A special edition has been rendered in cream-coloured calf leather with two-toned red accents. Traditional Chinese knot patterns are incorporated onto the insole as well as the Onitsuka Tiger Stripes as graphic nods to the occasion. With a pair, you’re stepping into the new year both with style and some extra confident energy.
Onitsuka Tiger
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The racing appeal of the TAG Heuer Carrera is universal. And while it may be instantly recognisable, there’s a sort of quiet elegance (much like the Rabbit) to it that’s timeless. This particular iteration is a solid gold construction that adds a more luxurious edge while keeping to its sporty roots. Whether you’re intending on this year to be the time you’re making time or be better at prioritising time, this is one piece to help.
TAG Heuer
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There’s a clever, almost ingenious, quality to this special duo of candles by Acqua di Parma. Like “Chapeau!” alludes, the duo of candles can be—when not in use and the wax in both are solid, of course—combined to form a sculpture that’s shaped like the Art Deco form of an Acqua di Parma fragrance bottle, with the yellow portion shaped like a hat. Somewhat magical, don’t you think?
Acqua di Parma
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Find out more about Raffles City's "Spring in the City".
Photography: Jaya Khidir
Art Direction: Joan Tai
Styling: Asri Jasman
Illustrations: thejontan
Photography Assistants: Nowo Kasturi and Tawfiq Ismail
Next week, to coincide with a little know art event, The Pineapple Room—Capella Singapore's newest temple to the arts—will partner with TASCHEN for a pop-up bookstore. That's right, now there's a reason for you to read at a bar. The vaunted purveyor of art books will present an array of its coveted titles from its catalogue.
Nearly 70 books from TASCHEN, covering everything from art and fashion to travel and gastronomy, will be gathered under one roof. But not just any roof. This is The Pineapple Room, we are talking about; a space dreamed up by the Matthew Shang Design Office. With an interior filled with Singapore's history told through archival documents like photographs from the 1940s to 1960s and vintage maps that whisper of old-world Singapore, The Pineapple Room is the perfect nest for the TASCHEN's storytelling ethos.
We got a gander at TASCHEN's list of tomes that will be at the pop-up. Like Annie Leibovitz's SUMO; Mick Rock's The Rise of David Bowie, 1972-1973; Hokusai; The Magic Book; and many more. While the digital medium is delightful, there's nothing quite like the physical copy of a book; something you can feel, smell and perfect to spice up the emptiness of your coffee table.
When: Wednesday to Sunday, 15–19 January 2025, 11am to 7pm
Where: The Pineapple Room, Capella Singapore, 1 The Knolls, Sentosa Island, 098297
Admission: Free to the public; especially to anyone willing to travel to Sentosa
Yep, the second weekend of January is here, and while we’re already a few days into the New Year, there’s still plenty of time to embrace fresh experiences and make the most of your weekend. Whether you're seeking cultural inspiration, good vibeeey tunes, or a chance to relax, this weekend listicle offers the perfect opportunity to kickstart 2025 on a high note.
It’s not everyday that you walk into a coffee shop in Geylang and experience DJs blasting out chill, laidback tunes—that’s exactly what you’ll get when you head down to the long-standing Keng Wah Seung Cafe to catch @kopicatsss. This DJ collective is back for the fifth volume of what they do best—laying down sick beats at the unlikeliest of locations, from iconic institutions of Singaporean cuisine to niche bookstores. This time they’ll be spinning at Keng Wah Seung Cafe, a renowned Hainanese nestled in the midst of Geylang that’s been around since the 50s. Catch the kopicats, joined by guest star DJ/barista @a_fiq, as they cook up the sickest tunes to go alongside your kopi and wanton mee.
When: 11 January, from 2pm until 6pm
Where: 783 Geylang Rd, Singapore 389672
Sure, you could probably just go outside and see the vibrant streets of our city with your own eyes, but why do that when you can view the very same sights as pictured through the lens of celebrated visual archivist Aik Beng Chia instead, who’s been capturing the lifeblood of Singapore on his camera for 15 years. As part of Singapore Art Week 2025, his newest exhibition SingKaPor REMIXED presents a series of large-scale photographic collages that perfectly encapsulates the essence of Singapore’s urban landscapes and vibrant communities. Chia’s collages capture the intimacy and charm of everyday moments, with these new works expanding upon his previously more individual snapshots to offer a panoramic view of life in Singapore.
When: Till 26 January
Where: 5 Lock Rd, #01-06 Gillman Barracks
There's a fresh face in the local art scene, and it's making quite the statement. Meet Tokonoma—the brainchild of gallerist and art collector Ken Tan and art director Joash Thum—a gallery that thrives on defying labels. Think of it as the cool rebel of the art world where rules don't apply. Their debut exhibition, DNA (Design Nor Art), is a curated collection of eight intriguing objects that live somewhere in the grey zone between art and design. Highlights include Duchamp's iconic Bottle Rack (yes, the one that transformed a drying rack into art history) and a pair of Olivier People sunglasses made exclusively for Andy Warhol—because why not add a touch of Warholian flair to the mix?
When: 10 January-28 February
Where: Tokonoma, #03-10, 16 Shaw Road
By appointment only
Celebrate the Year of the Snake with Martell’s tribute to Chinese culture at The Golden Age Journey: L’Or de Jean Martell—Assemblage du Serpent pop-up. Limited to just 500 individually numbered bottles, is presented in a beautifully reimagined Baccarat crystal decanter that captures the mysticism of the serpent. Visitors can immerse themselves across five elemental zones inspired by Chinese geomancy—Water, Earth, Fire, Wood, and Gold, while uncovering the artistry behind this exclusive blend of over 700 eaux-de-vie.
Highlights include a gold-scaled photo wall, a heritage walkway showcasing Martell’s 300-year legacy, an Infinity Photo Wall symbolising water’s life-giving essence, and olfactory pods offering a sensory journey into its rich flavours.
When: 10–12 January
Where: 72-13 Mohamed Sultan Road, Singapore
Looking for your next cultural fix without breaking the bank? Head to the Centre for Asian Languages & Arts (CAL) at the National Library Building, where a treasure trove of arts and culture content spanning books, music scores, and play scripts reside. But here's the kicker: their massive collection of 30,000 film titles, ranging from dance performances to theatre productions and operas, are all available in crystal-clear quality up to 4K resolution. There's even a cosy viewing room on level 8, complete with a surround sound system that'll have you feeling like you're front row at the theatre.
When: Everyday, 10am - 9pm
Where: 100 Victoria Street, National Library Board, Singapore 188064
Make reservations here
When was the last time you've visited the Science Centre Singapore? I'd wager not very recently. But you now have an excuse to do just that. Space Explorers: THE INFINITE takes you aboard the International Space Station alongside NASA astronauts through stunning 360-degree footage captured in space. For an hour, you'll witness the first-ever spacewalk in virtual reality, explore a life-sized 3D model of the ISS, and watch the historic Artemis rocket launch. You'll even be able to see our earth from a perspective few humans ever have. Your ticket also includes access to Science Centre Singapore, making it a worthy outing to spend an entire day on.
When: Now till 24 March 2025
Where: Science Centre Singapore, 15 Science Centre Road, 609081
Make reservations here
Gladiator 2 is a cinematic spectacle that demands to be experienced in theatres, bringing together the genius of Ridley Scott with the powerhouse talents of Paul Mescal and Denzel Washington. Mescal steps into the spotlight as a compelling new hero, delivering a raw and emotionally charged performance, while Washington adds his legendary gravitas to a key role that elevates the story. With breathtaking visuals, and epic battles, it's the kind of cinematic experience that delivers the grandeur of ancient Rome. Here's our full review of it.
Where: All theatres near you
Every weekend—yes, every weekend—there's a new vintage marketplace spot open for you to find your next treasure. Whether its a cute digicam from @digi_cambam and @digicamsg, a visit to a makeshift tent for live tarot readings by @snowielogy, or a curated selection of vintage clothes, hand sculptured accessories and blind bags from @whowantsaynow, @dillydallydally, @woofie.co, @weare_.sg, and @vroomn_vintage, as well as many other hidden gems. So grab your friends or family, and come along to discover what's waiting at Resurrack's Vintage Market.
When: Every Saturday and Sunday, 3pm - 9pm
Where: Resurrack Vintage Market, Bugis Street Art Lane
If you're looking for something thought-provoking this weekend, this might be it. The Substance by French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat offers a gripping dive into ambition, vulnerability and the social pressures shaping our lives. Starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, this isn't just entertainment; it's an intense, emotionally resonant experience that feels both personal and universal. Carolie's direction brings each character's journey to life with personal performances and stunning cinematography, making it hard to look away. Not to hype it up too much but just saying, this could be my favourite film all-year-long.
I won't spoil too much so I'll just leave you on a cliff-hanger. The Substance explores the choices we make, leaving viewers with plenty to reflect on, and probably grossed out too—in a good way, of course. So don't miss it—this film will linger with you long after the credits roll (it's still lingering after watching it last week.)
Where: All theatres near you
Enter The World of Studio Ghibli where you can visit the worlds of your favourite films. At the museum, stream through 11 of their best films such as My Neighbour Totoro (1988), Kiki's Delivery Service (1989), Princess Mononoke (1997), Spirited Away (2001) and Howl's Moving Castle (2004), transporting visitors into iconic scenes of the movies. Take a peak at how the films were made with its 16 art installations showcasing Studio Ghibli's creative process. Oh and be sure not to miss the interactive exhibits and dedicated photo spots for cute pics.
(STUDIO GHIBLI)
When: Until 2 February 2025
Where: ArtScience Museum Singapore
Get your tickets here
The world’s largest light, sound and multimedia event is finally in Singapore. Expect a series of festive activities throughout its run, like “The Enchanted Maples” where visitors can enjoy glowing maple leaves and treats from the Sugar Shack as well as a winter wonderland named the “Walls of Lights” and more. illumi strongly prides in their commitment to sustainability through energy-efficient LED lighting and nighttime operations that conserve energy, so don't be worry bout 'saving electricity'.
When: Until 2 February 2025
Where: Bayfront Event Space, Singapore
Get your tickets here
“Cats, in particular, teach us to be ourselves, whatever the odds. A cat, except through force, will never do anything that goes against its nature. Nothing seduces it away from itself.“
—Alice Walker, We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For
"Cats in a Floating World" is a curated exhibition that explores cats in all their mysterious glory—from aloof apartment dwellers reflecting city lights in their eyes to playful calicos romping through traditional gardens. Drawing on Japan's rich artistic tradition where cats have long been revered as spiritual beings, fourteen artists reimagine these beloved creatures across various mediums and styles. Blurring the line between reality and dream, the exhibition delves into the cultural and emotional ties between humans and their feline counterparts.
When: Now till 29 December, 12pm - 8:30pm
Where: 45 Tras St, Singapore 078984
It has been said that you don’t buy a Mr Jones Watch to get to your train punctually; you buy one to question whether you want to get on that train at all, and whether getting on that train is going to add anything to the sum of human happiness.
Established in 2007 by former fine art, sculpture and computer-related design student Crispin Jones, Mr Jones Watches are both immediately recognisable and unlike any other watch you've ever seen.
Before he got into watches, Jones made an office desk that answered questions.
The questions were things like “Will my love be returned?” “What do my friends think of me?” “Will I find my lost item?” The questions were contained on cards, 30 in all, and to obtain the answers the user had to place them over a metal slot on the desk.
“It was an attempt to use the computer in a similar way that ancient civilisations used oracles,” Jones once told Esquire.
‘The catch was, the metal slot became hotter and hotter as the answer came up". The piece was called The Invisible Force: The Amazing Psychic Table. A barcode was concealed in the pattern on the card, so when you dropped it onto the slot you triggered an electronic reader that slowly produced an answer on a dot matrix.
The answer to “Will my love be returned?” would produce the answer “Yes … if … you … stay … true … to … your…”. By the time the answer got to “true” the card slot would be getting quite hot, but if you withdrew your hand the system would reset and you wouldn’t see the whole answer. The last – very hot – word was “ideals”.
Jones was interested in the way technology was changing our lives: what it gives, and what it takes away.
That's when he began thinking about watches.
“The watch is interesting," he figured, “because we don’t think of it as technology the way we do about phones or computers. And it’s an incredible survivor: most technologies that are 10 years old look incredibly outdated, so that if I use a phone from 10 years ago it’s almost a provocation, and it makes me look massively eccentric. But you’re wearing your wristwatch from the 1950s and it doesn’t seem extraordinary.”
Jones observed that. while many of us tend to walk around with near identical gadgets these days, watches remain one of the few outward signs of our personality.
“And with watches you can weave in a lot of interesting stories and remap the concepts of how we think about time,” he said.
So he began developing his own.
Early Mr Jones Watches designs included The Summissus, subtitled The Humility Watch. This was “an object designed to remind people that death should be prepared for at any time”.
The watch had a mirror face, and alternated between flashing the time and the message “Remember you will die”. (A simplified later version of this was later made available for sale, and was known as The Accurate.)
Then there was Avidus, also known as The Stress Watch.
This reflected the feeling we have of time speeding by when we are stressed, and time slowing down when we are relaxed. The wearer would press the two metal contacts on the face, and a pulse would activate the display.
The more stressed the user, the faster the time would run; the more relaxed the user, the slower, and a meditative state would cause the time to run backwards.
Jones soon opened up his design process to external illustrators, and today Mr Jones Watches concerns itself less with philosophical nature of time and mortality, and more with novel and entertaining ways to approach time-telling. Mr Jones Watches mostly exist to put a smile on your face.
Take Ricochet [sp], for example. This model displays three cartoon robots playing pinball. The three metallic droids, engrossed in the action on the pinball machine, are each hand-gilded in a different metallic foil, so that they twinkle as they catch the light. The scoreboard of the games machine displays the hours and the minutes. In other words, it's the bit that tells the time.
Or there's Monster Melter 3000, in which a spaceman is locked in mortal combat with a terrifying man-eating alien. The position of the spaceman’s ray gun indicates the minutes. The monster’s severed tentacle shows you the hour.
Or how about the Cyclops watch? Instead of conventional hour and minute hands, Cyclops uses a single black circle to mark the passage of time. Each hour is represented by a different coloured circle beneath. The Cyclops is not particularly accurate. That is the point. It is billed as “the perfect Sunday watch”.
The wearer is invited to glance down at their wrist and deduce: “Well, it’s roughly half past the hour”.
For everything else, there is always your iPhone.
Mr Jones Watches has always been an outlier. But in 2024 it finds itself sympatico with an industry where (one argument has it) dial design is prioritised over such historically important factors as the provenance of a watch’s movement, the alloy of its case, or links to some tale or other involving a race car driver or an astronaut or a mountain climber from six centuries ago.
Instead, how about a watch that looks unlike any other, and is whimsical, humorous and fun, into the bargain? For that Mr Jones Watches has your back.
Crispin Jones has workshops in Forest Hill and Camberwell in south London, as well as a busy shop in Covent Garden, and an online shop that ships worldwide. His watches cost between £225 and £695, making them a good first watch, a decent gift or a unique new piece to add to your collection. The company generally puts out around 10 new watch designs each year.
I've long wondered about the process of watch design, so many of them look the same, after all, and have been curious quite how much latitude a designer is allowed before market forces and the pressures of Q4 to shift more 40mm panda-dialled chronographs kicks in, and any fun stuff is relegated to a file marked "Maybe Next Year".
Those are not concerns of Crispin Jones.
The other week, between occasional appearances from Stanley, the friendly office miniature dachshund, Crispin talked to me about how the Mr Jones design process works, why market research is for the birds, and the endless playful possibilities of time.
Here's 35 things I learned.
I think often people see our watches and think “Oh it’s just wacky nonsense. You can’t tell the time with this! It’s impossible!” But there is always a logic to it. There’s a structure, if you’re prepared to engage with it. You might need to relearn a little bit of how to recognise the time. But we’re not asking for much complexity. We’re really not doing things that are just confusing and arbitrary.
One of the most successful watch designs for us is “the swimming pool watch” – A Perfectly Useless Afternoon. Kristof [Devos; Belgium illustrator and author] designed that. His starting point was this quote from a Chinese philosopher that if you’ve learned to spend an afternoon doing absolutely nothing, then you’ve learned to live [the quote is from the 20th Century linguist and novelist, Lin Yutang: “If you can spend a perfectly useless afternoon in a perfectly useless manner, you have learned how to live”]. And although you don’t need to know that narrative to appreciate the watch, that underpins it. I think it’s important for him that there’s a conceptual reason behind this guy lying in a swimming pool. That’s what it’s all about.
The second thing with that watch is that there has to be a really elegant way to incorporate the time-telling function. That’s what we always aspire to. The “swimming pool watch” is a really good example, because at any time of the day, whenever you look at it, the image is coherent. It makes sense. And then, if you know how to decode the elements, you can read the time as well. As soon as someone’s explained it to you, it’s obvious. But the first time you see it, your reference is all scrambled because there’s no conventional minute hand. There’s no numerals on there. But the time-telling element is coherent with the image.
There is a more intense subtext to that particular watch, which is explained in the booklet that comes with it. Kristof had an awful car crash where, I think, one of his very close friends died [In 2007, Kristof was holiday in Germany with his now wife, and friends who were newlyweds. The holiday was a wedding gift from Kirstof and his partner. There was an accident, and his friend Tina passed away. “We were all 26,” he has explained. “Nobody expects to lose someone, especially another friend. It was really heavy, it’s still really hard”] and that was his impetus to really cut back on work. He was doing commercial art direction for graphic design firms, which he wasn’t enjoying, and he also did children’s book illustration and authoring, which is what he really wanted to do. And when he proposed this design to us, he was trying to balance his commercial stuff with his more creative ideas. All the artists we work with get a royalty payment. And that watch is so successful that Kristof was able to give up the commercial art direction stuff and refocus on the children’s illustration. He’s now also trained as a teacher, so he teaches high school students. So that watch allowed him to reconsider what he was doing.
If we did any sort of the analysis like that, we would probably learn some stuff. I just worry that that would sort of steal a bit the charm of the whole process. I feel like, then we’d go “Robots and cityscapes sell more than landscapes, so we need to do more of them in Q4”. But it’s never like that.
Our guiding principle is always: “Is this the best version of this artist’s work that we can make in a watch form?” Our business model used to be that we’d do a 100-piece numbered edition. And, if it was super-popular and it sold really fast, then we’d reissue it down the line into the permanent collection. But then the limited editions started selling out really fast, so it became difficult to judge what was popular and what was not so popular. So, then we scaled up to 200-piece editions, and then those started selling out really fast, too. They were going in 25, 30 minutes. What we do now is a 12-hour [order] window [and fulfil all the orders placed within that timeframe]. We’ve always had a lot of customers from the USA, for example. Before, if we did a 200-watch release at midday London time, which is what we used to do, that’s not really sympathetic to someone on the west coast of America, where it’s 5am. We had a situation with people going “I love the design, but I'm furious with you as a company, because I can’t buy it.” That wasn’t ideal.
We’re not systematic. There’s no set of rules for something that makes a Mr Jones watch. We do have substantial numbers of unsolicited submissions, as you can imagine. We do weird designs, so people think “They do anything! I've got an idea for watch, I’ll send it in to you?” We have a submission form. There is a layer of filtering which the customer service team do. But they're instructed to not be super-rigorous. I guess what we always look for is someone with a distinctive quality that we haven’t seen before. Also, someone who brings a story to the design – a narrative. So many of the design submissions we get fall down… There’s a sort-of witty visual pun, and you're like, ‘Yeah, it’s kind of funny, but not really’. Like, they've not really integrated the timekeeping in an elegant way that’s coherent with this narrative they're trying to tell. It is a pretty challenging thing to do. I’d say we get about 250 submissions a year.
Our threshold for recouping our costs is very low, because everything we do is all done internally. We only need to sell maybe 100-150 of each watch in order to recoup the money we’ve invested. And we always sell more than that. That means we can be really free with the design. We don’t have to focus-group it, get a bunch of the customers together, test it…“Do you think this colorway, or the black colorway?” I guess it’s arrogant, in a way. But I think it would lose a lot of that magic if we introduced another voice into the internal company assessment of a design, coupled with the external artists. What if they’re competing voices? Who wins? We’re in a sort of luxurious position where we don't really have to do that.
That's not saying we don't make missteps. There was a watch we did called Tadaima [designed by the London-based Japanese illustrator Yo Hosoyamada], which has a view of the Tokyo cityscape. The limited-edition version had this cat looking out the window, and the minute hand was a bird. There was this nice narrative between the domestic cat that was captive behind the window, and the bird that’s flying free. For the reissue, we sampled it, and we sampled it without the cat, because the cat sat behind this window frame, and it closed in the design quite a lot. It just looked nicer without the cat – it looked more open and less fussy. That watch sold quite well. But now we’re forever getting people saying “Where’s the cat? I like the version with the cat”. So, that was the example of: we’re so fixated on making the best version of that design, and the purity. To my mind, it was a no brainer. The cat was clutter on an asymmetric image. But for a lot of the customers, the cat was really important. So we learned something. We are toying with the idea of bringing the cat back in the new year. But I know what will happen. Then everyone who bought it in between, will be like “Could I return my watch and get the cat version instead?”
We’ve got a pool of illustrators we work with, as well as a number of designs being done in-house each year. Before the illustration is agreed, there’ll be a round of rough sketches where we work out the theme for the watch – the basic design; the core elements; what the timekeeping [function] is going to be; what the feel of it is. There’s a bit of roughing out, so we can get a version of the design that the artists can be happy with. We spend quite a bit of time getting it right and working on screen before we commit anything to engraving plates and mixing up inks, because that gets quite expensive.
Once we’re happy with the basic proportions, we’re committed. Then they'll mix the inks from Pantone references. We use standard colour references, the same graphic designers use. We can generate a recipe for each Pantone shade. They’re fairly good, but they’re not always perfect. So there has to be a bit of by-eye adjusting as we go along. Each colour is printed in turn. It’s a bit like silk screen printing. It’s a combination of screen print and lithography. We’ve got an engraved plate, and then we're printing a single colour at a time off that. Mixing the inks and then setting up the ink on the machine for printing is the labour- and time-intensive period. We need to be fairly confident before we do a sample, because it’s a substantial commitment of time and effort. If there’s multiple colours, which there generally are on our designs, we tend to use pad printing [a prainting technique that uses a silicone pad to transfer a 2D image onto a 3D object, used in the medical, electronics and car industries], but in a fine art way. Pad printing is really an industrial printing technology – originally developed in the watch industry. But mostly in the watch industry it’s used for single or two-colour printing at most. I think the most colours we’ve used is 16. So that’s 16 layers of colour being laid down.
We never really have it where we go “Oh, this idea is non-starter”. You do often get things where the proportions aren’t right. This monster one [Monster Melter 3000] is quite a good example. What we were testing here was we’d print the monster on the glass, but we’d leave the mouth open and have some printing on the dial to give a sense of 3D-ness. The spaceman on the side is the minute hand, and this severed tentacle is supposed to point to the hour. So, it’s saying a quarter to four in the picture. But doing that, we felt the proportions of the two were a bit wrong. The spaceman was probably too small. So, the monster became larger. We scaled up a monster's head and that made it more impactful. But then we felt that the spaceman could also come up in size, which is in the final image. The planet sitting in front of the monster’s tentacle didn’t work either – it made it kind of incoherent. It should be behind by rights.
I wanted something really visually impactful [for Monster Melter 3000]. Our stock green and pink inks were not the brightest, so we sourced some fluorescent inks. That was exciting for the workshop, because they’d never used them before. You get a sense of how much more vibrant it is. At first, we thought “Oh we’ll use them sparingly”. “We'll use them on the monster or maybe on the dial, but we won’t go crazy”. But once you see them on some bits you go “Oh, we’ll just put it on everything! What’s the point of being subtle with it?”
Onorio [D’Epiro; the designer and illustrator who worked on Monster Melter 3000] was really nice to work with. A lot of the artists are working remotely, so we’re having to do it all over email or occasionally Zoom calls. But Onorio lives in Bedford. That’s not super-close to us in south London – but he became really engaged with the process. He came in for a bunch of the key review and resample meetings. We’d sit down and go – “All right, let’s try and brighten the colours”, and maybe we’d make some minor adjustments to the illustration. We can engrave new plates, mix new inks, print a sample, everything from start to finish, and we can do that in half a day. Because Onorio can be there, I can be there, the head of production can be there. We can all review it together – and talk about what's working, what isn’t, what the next step is.
Print technicians are really highly skilled. They tend to come from a fine art print-making background. And it's really nice for them to be recognised, and not be seen as just “the technicians”. What that definition misses is all the problem-solving and the little tweaks that they're doing to the artwork, that go into the printing process to get the best possible result. That’s why it’s nice if the artist comes in. Then they can stand side-by-side with them and watch what’s going on.
I don’t think any of the artists we’ve ever worked with has ever designed a watch before. So, they’re always super-motivated, because even if they’re quite established commercial practitioners, they haven’t been asked to do a watch before. And particularly they haven’t been asked to a watch like ours.
The difference of working at this scale cannot be overemphasised. Most people work on a laptop, so they’re at least working at A4-size. Once you’ve scaled that down to 32-millimeter diameter watch size, something really nice happens with the designs. That focusing of the design in the smaller space. And the pad printing is capable of such fine resolution that you can put a lot of detail in there and still it doesn't get lost. If you’re working on a screen, you get fixated on really minute details. In the reality of a watch, it’ll be so minuscule as to be inconsequential. That’s a good reality check.
I guess it’s not so much a control freak – it’s just more an insistence on getting things right. When we used to work with the factories in the Far East, we’d have a design, get it sent out and they’d do a pretty good job. But we wouldn’t be able to have a dialogue like, “This red, it looks a bit washed out. How can we make that more vibrant and more impactful?” Because they weren’t really engaging on those terms. They were like, “Well, you sent the Pantone reference. We’ve matched that, and we printed it. How much more can we do?” Unless you’re really right in the thick of it, up to your elbows in the ink and stuff, you can’t engage on those terms.
We work principally with two pad print suppliers and they both really value us as clients. Because the work they’re used to doing is printing on pen barrels – putting a one-colour company logo on a pen barrel, to give away at a trade show or something. It’s really boring. So, we’re an unusual client for them. We’ve got odd demands, and high quality demands. And they’re not used to dealing with that.
Our second workshop is in Camberwell, just across the road from the Camberwell Art College. We go around the degree show with the workshop staff, where all the graduating students are showing their work. The last couple of years, we’ve cherrypicked a couple of graduating students and approached them after the show and said, “We’d like to work with you to design a watch”. I graduated from a sculpture BA, many moons ago. So, I know what that’s like –it’s kind of horrible to be released from the cocoon of the art college environment into the real world, without a project.
We get so many submissions where you have a design where you have two spots where you read the hours and minutes, but not in a particularly integrated way. They always suggest numerals. No one ever says “What I’m going to do is rework the hours as different colours. So that you need to learn to read that blue means two o’clock, and green means three o’clock", or whatever it is. I'd really engage that! We get slight variations of the guy in the swimming pool watch So, there'll be a ball and someone playing football or a ball and a dog chasing it. We do get a lot of dog watch submissions – because of Stanley [miniature dachshund/ Mr Jones office dog who also features on a line of t-shirts]. We get endless submissions on that. They think that’s the way to my heart! It’s always a dog chasing a ball, or a dog chasing a bone. People do spend a lot of time on them. It’s kind of heartbreaking. There’s some really talented people out there. They’re just not quite right for us. I wish I could support more.
When you look at the “swimming pool” watch, you can read it without having to numericise it. You don’t have to say “12.35”, you can say – “Oh we’re nearly at lunchtime”, or whatever. You process time in a different way.
We started off doing the skull watch [The Last Laugh, a skull design linked to the tradition of memento mori. Instead of hands, the skull’s teeth display the time.] The hours were on the upper jaw, the minutes on lower. That was the first time I looked into using jump hour mechanism [a watch complication that displays the current hour numerically, in an aperture. When the minute hand completes a full revolution the jump hour mechanism instantly "jumps" to display the next hour]. Because originally that watch used a two-disc quartz mechanism. So, the hour disc was constantly moving. The minute disc was constantly moving. But it became really challenging to read. Because, say at 1.30 – the hour numeral “1” would be in the middle of the jaw. The “30” would be directly below it. By the time you got to “1.55” you’d begin to get the numeral “2” appearing – so then you’re like “Well, is it 2.55 or is it 1.55?” That’s when we bought into getting jump hour modules. And now we use them on several watches. Before that all the watches we did were quartz because I always had the sense that our customers didn't really… I was going to say they didn’t really understand. They probably did understand, but they didn’t really care. They were buying our watches for the design rather than the movement. I feel like now because we’ve been around in the watch world for a while and what we do is quite distinctive, a bunch of people who love [mechanical] watches have found their way to us. They might prefer mechanical watches, so we do them with a slightly higher price, and with a slightly different size case.
The Zombie Pizza watch [created by the artist Mariana Calderón] was another limited edition. It sold well but it didn’t do well enough to get reissued. It happened not to be super-commercial, but that’s alright. Not every watch gets reissued. It doesn’t mean it was an unsuccessful design. Mind you, if we’re speaking in strictly commercial terms, having a watch where a severed finger points to the top the minute and a fly points to the hour… that is quite niche.
There’s a logic with the Cyclops watch [designed by Crispin Jones]. The width of the black circle is five minutes. So, if the circle [crosses over a coloured one beneath it] on the left-hand edge, then that’s five past. But if it’s the width plus the same width as the circle below then that’s 10 past. Equidistant between the circle then it’s half-past. Just touching the preceding circle and it's a quarter-to. [Congratulations if you're still following this, by the way - Ed.] We have thought about it a bit! It’s not just because I liked those colours.
Nobody needs that really functional timepiece anymore, because functional time is taken care of by digital technology: like your phone, your laptop, the screens at the railway station, or whatever. Functional time is all around us. So that’s freed up the watch to be a purely expressive, personality-carrying piece of male jewelry. It’s a way to have male body adornment, where fewer of those opportunities traditionally exist for men. There will always be people who want a flash accessory that embodies some of the technical precision of the world, a watch like a chronograph, for example. But dial design has definitely become more of a central focus, more recently.
At the Royal College of Art, I was influenced by former student Anthony Dunne, whose book Hertzian Tales argued for a more considered critique of electronic products, not least a reexamination of everyday objects on aesthetic grounds. In 2004 I wrote a manifesto posing two questions: "How could a watch undermine its wearer?" and "What if the watch could express some of the negative aspects of the wearer’s personality?" But his most provocative question was "How can the watch represent time in a more unpredictable and provocative way". Dunne was interested in what he called critical design, which was using the language and tools of product design as a form for social critique. My background before then was in fine art and sculpture. So then coming on a design course, I was naturally drawn towards something that was a bit less utopian and a bit more strange. One of the things that he talked about a lot was called value fiction, where an author’s values and beliefs are revealed through the plot. So that language, how we think of the watch – the personality, and the communicating aspect – has become the most important thing. I think that stuff is really interesting. That was my way in to designing watches.
I worked for Philips Design for a while. Philips Design in the late 1990s, early 2000s, invested a lot of money in wearable technology. They did collaborations with Levi’s and made these kind of funky snowboarder jackets with built-in MP3 players. It was kind of cool and interesting. But it wasn’t leveraging something that was genuinely happening. Snowboarders were not sellotaping their MP3 players to their sleeves in order to be able to access the controls on the slopes. So, it failed. But I thought the watch was a really interesting [object] because it has this really long history – at least back to First World War, if you’re talking about wristwatches. And if you’re talking pocket watches, you go back another couple of 100 years. Its enduring appeal is partly for those reasons we’re talking about. It communicates something about personality as well as being this sort of functional tool.
One of the fundamental shifts from when I started Mr Jones Watches, is that I thought that meant I needed to design all the watches. That's what it was! Other people can go and do Fred Blogs Watches. I’m Mr Jones Watches! But after four years, I was kind of flagging, and the quality was slightly deteriorating, and I thought it would be interesting to collaborate with different people who had an interesting relationship to time.
Early on, I asked an illustrator, Fanny Shorter, who I know quite well, if she would do some designs for us. And that was really nice. I knew her a bit. But I didn’t know her so well that I would feel an obligation to realise her design. She was really good, because she didn’t understand anything about what we could and couldn’t do [ie: any limitations in watch design]. She mostly did illustration for textiles and for wallpaper, and mostly worked in screen prints. She didn’t do one million colours on her designs, which was important, because we can’t do a million colours either. She really helped us to drive things forward. [Shorter’s watch design, The Promise of Happiness features a tiger playing under moonlight. The hour is displayed in the moon, while the minutes are camouflaged within its stripes]. That was really good for growing the knowledge of what Mr Jones watches could be. That’s when I stepped back more and had other people do the designs. I wouldn't have expected that, when I started the company, because my ego wouldn't have allowed it. So there’s been a growth from my side as well.
The skill set we have as a company is really to do with editing designs. When I say “I’m an editor”, it sounds quite lukewarm. It doesn’t sound as glamorous as being “the creator”. But, actually, having a design and recognising what’s strong with it, and what’s working, and refining it down, that’s the hard bit. And that’s what we're really good at now.
Putting the word “remember” on the hour hand, and “you will die” on the minute hand, that was my idea. That was really my statement piece. But I can’t keep coming up with iconoclastic sayings like that, year after year. My background is not really doing the pictorial-type designs. And that’s what our company is good at now. The pictorial image with a time-telling function integrated into it.
The skull watch [The Last Laugh] was a collaboration with a comedian [it was created with the comic William Andrews, and features artwork by the British tattoo artist Adrian Willard]. I thought comedians had a really interesting relationship to time and timing. [Andrews] talked a bit about dying on stage and how people would say to him, “You’re so brave doing what you do”. And he’d say, “If I have a bad day at work, the consequence is = people don’t laugh”. But if you're a surgeon or something and you have a bad day at work the consequences are far more serious.
I just thought watches generally work as gifts. And if you’re giving a watch as a gift, there’s always that moment of opening it. Most watch brands sell the watches on a little cushion with the strap done up, so the box needs to be quite big. But if you fasten the strap then it's marked the strap before you've even opened it. Also, our boxes fit through the letterbox.
People say we’re gimmicky. Gimmicky implies something is flashy or no good or has no substance. But there’s a coherence behind our work! I don’t want to slag off other people, but there was a company that were making something they called watches, but without a time-telling function. They were these little things you wore on your wrist that had a sort of duck pond on them, that were three-dimensional. That’s my definition of a gimmick. Because someone will get that and say “How do you tell the time with that?” Well, you can’t. Even when our watch is something playful like a pig escaping from a tractor beam [the Beam Me Up! watch], it still functions.
Originally published on Esquire UK
In the design world, Milan Design Week is a big one. The annual extravaganza is celebrated by design enthusiasts worldwide across the bustling streets of Milan, where creativity meets commerce. Last month I found myself in the middle of a curious blend of genuine innovation and shallow spectacle.
One of the most glaring trends was the pervasive use of fashion brand names to lend an air of legitimacy to the event. It seemed as though every corner boasted the presence of renowned product designer associated with high-profile fashion label, however, upon closer inspection, there seemed little intent to showcase a genuine dedication to the world of product design, and more about feeding the increasingly growing PR stunt machine.
This year’s victims were the design icons Le Corbusier (with Bottega Veneta) and Gio Ponti (with Saint Laurent), where the designs lacked depth and failed to resonate beyond their surface glamour. It felt like a commodification of design, where brand names overshadowed true creativity and innovation.
Furthermore, the proliferation of installations designed solely for Instagram-worthy moments was hard to ignore. Everywhere I turned, there were displays carefully curated to appeal to the lens of a smartphone camera rather than to engage with the essence of design. These installations were visually captivating, no doubt, but they lacked substance. They were hollow, devoid of any meaningful message or artistic merit beyond their superficial aesthetics. It was disheartening to witness the prioritisation of fleeting moments of social media validation over genuine artistic expression.
Such is the pull of Milan Design Week, the streets of the city were packed as ever with people eager to experience its spectacle. Yet, amid the crowds (and endless queues) I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that pervaded many of the exhibitions. People queued for hours just to catch a glimpse of something that promised to be visually appealing, only to find themselves confronted with installations that offered little beyond their initial allure. It was a stark reminder of the superficial nature of our modern obsession with image and spectacle.
There were, however, pockets of genuine brilliance that shone through. Design Space AlUla, for instance, stood out as a beacon of authenticity amid the chaos. Drawing nearly 20,000 visitors, they were treated to a curated collection of design creations and prototypes, alongside immersive installations dedicated to raw materials. It was a celebration of craftsmanship and creativity, offering a refreshing departure from the glitz and glamour that often defines Milan Design Week.
Similarly, Hermès delivered a masterful showcase that placed materials at the heart of the exhibition and discourse. Its presentation was a testament to the timeless beauty of craftsmanship and the enduring power of materiality in design, reminding us of the importance of substance over style.
My tastes aside, Milan Design Week has become a microcosm of the contemporary design landscape, where superficiality often masquerades as innovation and spectacle reigns supreme. While there is no denying the visual splendour of the event, it is imperative that we look beyond the surface and seek out moments of genuine creativity and authenticity. It is in these moments that the true essence of design resides, here’s hoping we can continue to strive to prioritise substance over style and authenticity over spectacle.
Originally published on Esquire ME
In media, often our decisions are driven in some part by commercial concerns. That’s especially true today, with the advertising dollars that are a publisher’s lifeblood increasingly migrating away from magazines, newspapers and websites and instead, being allocated to search engines, social media and influencers.
This very subject was at the core of a talk I hosted at the Asia-Pacific edition of the South by Southwest (SXSW) conference, on a panel featuring the creative director of Esquire Australia, Grant Pearce, and social media influencer Kristine Fernandez, whose following across Instagram and TikTok is almost a million strong. In mulling over the challenges of serving our audiences while also generating enough revenue to remain afloat, we discussed how important it is to collaborate with brand partners we truly believe in and can authentically, unreservedly recommend.
As I write this, the day after that panel conversation, I’m sitting on the balcony of my hotel room at the Park Hyatt Sydney—which I authentically, unreservedly recommend, dear reader—looking across at one of the most easily identifiable views in the world: the Sydney Opera House and harbour. It’s a vista that has not only been repeatedly immortalised on film but has also been rendered by some of Australia’s leading visual artists—huge paintings of the harbour by noted Aussie daubers Brett Whiteley and Ken Done adorn the walls of the Sydney International Convention Centre where SXSW APAC is held, in fact.
Most of Australia’s biggest-selling artists of all time are men, like Ken and Brett. The country’s most successful female contemporary artist, meanwhile, is a lady by the name of Del Kathryn Barton—the only woman to feature on the list of top ten Australian artists by auction price.
I got in touch with Barton after admiring her work at the ART SG fair at MBS earlier this year, and have been saving the resulting interview for this art-themed issue of Esquire Singapore. An issue like this is a rare pleasure for publishing professionals, as it gives us the chance to think less about commercial matters and instead, simply shine a spotlight on people we believe are deserving. People like Barton, whose artworks are astonishingly detailed objects of phantasmagorical beauty.
While personally, I also have a lot of love for hastily splashed abstract art—à la Helen Frankenthaler, Robert Motherwell, Franz Kline, Joan Mitchell et al—something I deeply appreciate about Barton’s paintings is how meticulous, how carefully crafted they are. The amount of work that goes into her art is extraordinary. She says this modus operandi is most probably a product of her upbringing.
“I grew up in an environment where I wasn’t exposed to the art world at all. My mother was a teacher and a gardener,” Barton explains. “But one of the things that imprinted me a lot about her was she did a lot of very painstaking, delicate quilt-making and stitching. And so, from a young age, I grew up just really valuing a surface where a very passionate, committed, labour-intensive experience has taken place.”
Applying this approach to her own practice initially held Barton back professionally. “Early on in my career, my work was criticised for being overtly decorative or illustrative,” she says. “Thankfully, those are not dirty words in the art world anymore.” To Barton, “The level of commitment and a surface that very authentically reflects the level of passion and commitment (to the work) is something that I’m very excited about.”
Del Kathryn Barto
For her fans’ sake, Barton says she’d be delighted to speed things up to better meet the demand for her paintings, which far outstrips supply. “Many times I’ve thought quite pragmatically about, should (my works) take months, take years? Is there any way I could circumvent that? But if anything, it’s the opposite. The work just gets more and more labour intensive—and I just love pushing that further and further.”
Often setting out to trick the eye with intricate renderings that only reveal their complexity upon close inspection, Barton says, “I love surfaces that from a distance almost look minimal, but then you lean in and you realise that there are hundreds of thousands of marks and it sort of takes on this micro-macro capacity. It’s like there’s a vibrational quality, the surfaces are kind of humming with energy.”
Although Barton is intrigued by the potential for technology and artificial intelligence to expand artists’ capabilities and horizons, there’s nothing like encountering a real-life painting, she reckons—at least as far as her own art is concerned. “I really think my work is much better in the flesh,” Barton says. “You have to stand there and it affects you, it goes way beyond the cognitive experience, it affects your energy, your emotional life. It’s a very real exchange and encounter in that way.”
Barton has twice won one of the world’s most prestigious art awards, the Archibald Prize for portraiture, first with a painting of her family, and subsequently, with another depicting the actor Hugo Weaving. I ask her whether, like many chefs I speak with, she doesn’t set out to win plaudits (or Michelin stars, as the case may be) but is more concerned with creating the best work possible.
Del Kathryn Barto
“Having a career as an artist is such a long game,” she replies. “I think I was very fortunate, at the age that I was when I first won the Archibald, I’d already put in 10 years of the most anxious self-doubt, and juggling four part-time jobs then spending every other moment in the studio… My only goal in life is, or was at that stage, to live a life where I could make art every day. So I literally am living my dream now. And I’m always reminding myself of that.”
The advice Barton gives young artists is to make the work its own reward—and if they can live without their art, then maybe they should consider doing so. “Your passion for your work is the only thing that will ultimately sustain you,” she says, “and sustain the capacity for you to have a career in the art world because it is so brutal.”
Barton has succeeded despite, she confesses, lacking the self-promotional, glad-handing skills that have played a big part in many prosperous artists’ ascent. “My friend, I am the worst at that,” she says. “I have this ridiculous fear that when people meet me, they’ll like my work less. I’m the worst at building relationships with collectors. I really am. I’m an introvert. Socially awkward, I get social anxiety.” Instead, she says, “I just try to love people through my work.”
Her ultimate goal, Barton says, is “creating images that are beautiful and hopefully get people to think about caring for the earth, and also finding a way to coexist on this incredible planet, that’s not toxic. That’s not aggressive. That’s not destructive. I really want to offer beauty to the world.” What a blessing to be able to make a living doing precisely that.
I have been to the Collège des Bernardins in Paris a couple of times. The former Cistercian college is located on the city’s artsy left bank and has become quite a popular event space. You’d immediately be taken by its long nave stretched by magnificent Gothic vaulted arches and columns; then, a few seconds later, you’d realise how the walls have aged with a sort of chaotic uniformity.
The historical monument provided the perfect blank canvas for Hermès to present its latest dinner service. Much like the open floor plan of the Collège des Bernardins, Tressages équestres (“equestrian braiding” in French) is designed with a sense of airy quality marked by strategically placed artwork set against kaolin white porcelain.
“We wanted to carry on the theme of the equestrian world that we have referenced in our previous collection, called Saut Hermès, which was already about the theme but in a different way, in a much more figurative way,” creative director of Hermès Tableware Benoit Pierre Emery tells me. We’re in a backroom of the presentation space, sequestered from the series of scenography conceptualised by French art director Maxime Tetard where individual pieces that make up Tressages équestres are in constant rotating motion.
“We had in mind to do something very delicate and very precise in terms of artwork. And to go in this new direction, we wanted to work with an artist who brings a really strong sense of details, who could express and pay reverence to the craftsmen and the equestrian elements. Working with Virginie was really the best choice we could make because she has this magic hand,” Emery adds.
Virginie Jamin is the creative hand behind Tressages équestres. She is no stranger to Hermès, having first designed a porcelain ashtray for the house in 2004, which then sparked a longtime collaboration that has seen her putting her stamp on throws and almost 30 silk scarves. Emery praises Jamin’s ability to “find the perfect balance between abstraction and figuration, traditional and modernity”.
One look at Tressages équestres and you’d be able to tell the inspiration behind the collection. The dinner service references the passementerie and braiding used in harness-making—something that Hermès certainly knows a great deal about. Jamin’s line-work precisely captures the intricacies of braiding techniques while also highlighting the material that they are set on. The colours used stay true to the natural fibres employed in real-life braiding and are punctuated with bright hues the likes of lemon, mint and petrol blue. Yet, they’re not done heavy-handedly, serving only to accentuate textures and volumes.
Jamin shows me just a sliver of the equestrian paraphernalia like saddles and whips that she discovered at the Emile Hermès Museum and the Conservatoire des Créations Hermès. “There were so many options because every object is functional. And through this functionality, there is some kind of beauty,” Jamin explains. “I wanted to share that because it’s not made to be beautiful but it is beautiful. I wanted to express this in a light way with clear lines and very respectful for the work of the artisan because it’s about artisanal, about drawing, which are very important for the brand, and about the equestrian world in a very abstract way.”
The objects then informed the initial sketches for Tressages équestres. Jamin opted to transmute them into border-like motifs that trace the circumferences of each piece in the dinner service. “The purpose was to be faithful to this first vision, which is very simple and rudimentary, but everything is already there,” Jamin explains. Rudimentary as they may be to her, they’re actually already pretty impressive to begin with, at least, to my untrained eyes.
What is not rudimentary is the process of completing the entire project; Tressages équestres took nearly three years to complete. It’s not that Hermès artisans are not skilled in what they do—clearly, far from it—but rather, a lot of time and effort were put in to ensure that the very best expressions were realised, and as intended.
For starters, the designs had to be manipulated to perfection, and with the dinner service having 27 different pieces including 10 new hollow-ware pieces, there was a lot of trial and error to best fit each of Jamin’s unique designs to the right piece. From the point of reference to scale and proportion to the colours used, every single detail had to be balanced and well thought out to an almost obsessive degree.
“Sometimes, I believe that we are a bit crazy because we are probably the only house that can really spend that much time on a set of details. But details are really important. One of the first elements that we discovered at the Conservatoire des Créations Hermès—I think it’s a very important detail—is hidden under the saddle. It lets the saddle fix to the animal and it gives security to the cavalier. We were fascinated by it because it’s so beautiful, it’s so well-knitted and handcrafted,” chimes Emery. Jamin echoes Emery’s sentiments, likening the entire process as “a balance between playing together but very seriously”.
While it may not be apparent for the unfamiliar, one of Hermès’ tenets is the element of play that’s inherent in a lot of its creations. If it’s not in the personality of a creation, play comes in the form of being able to manipulate a creation to fit your whim and fancy. With Tressages équestres, the idea is that the individual pieces are part of a bigger story realised by you. “This is a sentence, this is another, and you can compose after that, the other story you want. Then, people who buy the service can play with it, so it’s a free playground,” explains Jamin as she points to a select number of pieces stacked on the table in front of us. It would be remiss of me to not point out that the placement of the designs on each piece are so precise that it allows for stacking without obstructing even a line. Like Emery says, “crazy”.
As the creative director, it’s up to Emery to be the catalyst behind each project—finding the right person to help tell the story and expanding the Hermès universe that pays homage to its heritage in a timeless way. Tressages équestres is thoroughly Hermès in every way.
“Each new project is a new dialogue. I’ve known Virginie for a long time so it was easy for this collection,” Emery enthuses. “What I love is having a certain intuition for a project when you go and ask an artist to collaborate on a project. You have a theme in mind but you don’t have a clear idea of what it’s going to look like. That’s the magic. It’s an emotional thing to see it when it’s finished. And to be honest, you never really imagine it would be that beautiful.”
Renowned Australian street artist, Rone, unveils his first major exhibition at the Art Gallery of Western Australia (AGWA). Titled TIME • RONE, this immersive experience brings visitors back to a forgotten era of Australian history.
Rone’s signature large-scale murals of women span across 12 rooms of the Centenary Galleries, which makes it the first time in nearly 20 years that the galleries are fully open to the public. Inviting visitors to explore themes of beauty, decay, and the search for meaning in everyday moments, Rone’s work is further heightened by stylist Carly Spooner and composer Nick Batterham as the spaces spring to life with a haunting soundscape and installations.
We queried Rone about his exhibition, the woman behind his work, and the attraction of impermanence.
ESQUIRE: What goes into your process of the type of woman that goes with the kind of wall/environment? How do you settle on the location and subject?
Rone: Everything really depends on the location, if it’s a public wall, I will try and paint someone local or representative of the area, as this seems to create the best engagement with the people who live in the area. Depending on the orientation of the wall I will take a series of photos of the subject and then choose one that works compositionally with the space.
In my gallery or installation works, I mostly work with a model, for my latest work, TIME, I worked with a model called Teresa Oman, who has been sitting for me for almost 12 years. Teresa has a unique ability to very subtly convey the feelings and emotions I want to convey in each space.
Impermanence is a theme in your works; how does that notion play into your life?
Coming from a street art background since the early 2000s, impermanence is really the key thread in that art movement, we’d never know how long our work would last and because of that, we became prolific documenters of our work. This informs my practice now to the extent that I create large-format photographic works for each space before we open them to the public. These works live on while many of the locations I have works in no longer exist.
Does the history of a structure's dilapidation play a part in your work or do you just accept its current state without regards for its history?
I always use the building and location as inspiration for the work but I intentionally choose not to research too deeply into the history of each space as I don’t like it to inform my work too heavily.
When I visit a space for the first time, I like to think of a loose storyline that could be associated with the building, but I tend to keep the details of that to myself. I'd encourage the viewer to create their own idea of what happened in the space and how that applies to their experience of the exhibition.
How has your art evolved throughout the years?
I spent the first half of my career working primarily in the streets and selling works on canvas in galleries and exhibitions. Over time I realised that I missed the ephemeral nature of painting in the street and how the surroundings would inform the viewer to create their own interpretation of my work. In more contemporary gallery settings, that nuance seemed to be lost and I tried to find a way to recapture that in my works.
About 10 years ago, I decided to revisit my past, painting in abandoned buildings and documenting it with photographic works. After trying to have the public visit these spaces in situ, I realised I needed to ensure their safety and began trying to recreate the feeling of an abandoned space in existing, functional buildings. I now work with a set decorator (Carly Spooner) to dress the space and it’s a pleasure to see people enjoying my work for themselves.
Street art is often associated with activism and social commentary. Do you see your work as a form of activism, and if so, in what ways?
My work is less about social commentary and more about creating an emotional response to the passing of time. I think there is beauty in entering a long-forgotten space and the viewer considering what could have been there. Things that we took for granted as everyday items years ago can trigger personal memories and responses and I love that for each person who visits, their experience is unique.
You've painted in structures slated for demolition; buildings that have been abandoned. What about war-torn areas?
I haven’t worked in any worn-torn areas, but when I travel, I do like to find the forgotten parts of a city or a town and paint those more interesting spaces. I like painting in spots that have become the fabric of a place that no one seems to notice, yet when you put a portrait of someone in that space, it suddenly becomes much more visible and thought-provoking.
You've cited Melbourne as the best city for street art; has that sentiment changed since?
Melbourne has a great history of very notable street art and is definitely one of the best! We’re fortunate enough to live in a city which for the most part fosters street art and graffiti culture. Paris is definitely the most iconic city for street art, especially as it is less curated.
Was there a particular structure that you've wanted to paint in but you weren't able to do so?
My white whale for years was the ballroom at Flinders St Station in Melbourne but I was lucky enough to access that in 2022 after navigating through copious amounts of red tape.
There are so many iconic buildings I would love to paint but getting permission is the hardest step!
What can people expect with your latest exhibition?
Centenary Galleries at AGWA, which hasn’t been open to the public in over 20 years. Set in the 1950s, TIME is a journey through a long-forgotten space that follows the lives of middle-class Australia. Rooms and services that have been long-redundant sit dormant and tell the stories of people who powered the country at that time.
What's next?
We’re still working on that! We’d love to tour TIME further, possibly internationally, but in the meantime, it’s great to be given the chance to see people back in the space courtesy of AGWA bringing it to Perth.
TIME • RONE is shown at AGWA until February 2025.
“The Spirit of the Faubourg” is Hermès’ theme for the year, referencing the Maison’s iconic first flagship that still stands at its original address at 24 rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. You may think that it’s somewhat of a disconnect then that Lauren Clay, a visual artist based in New York, was given carte blanche to design artist windows for Hermès’ Singapore flagship. But perhaps Clay’s dream-like, almost mystical oeuvre is the perfect way to channel the Hermès spirit. Clay tells us all about it as she readies to present her first ever window to fellow artists in Singapore.
ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: The theme for Hermès this year is “The Spirit of the Faubourg”. What does it mean to you?
LAUREN CLAY: I’m fascinated by the concept of “place” and the unique qualities that a city or building holds. Sometimes we refer to this as “vibes.” The ancient Romans had a term, "genius loci," which is Latin and translates to “the spirit of a place.” This term, “genius loci,” also describes the atmosphere or character of a space. This is an idea that I’ve been inspired by for many years.
Regarding the theme “The Spirit of the Faubourg”, I aimed to capture the feeling of visiting the Hermès rue du Faubourg store, which for me, resonates with the experience of visiting Paris. The store embodies all of the beautiful aspects of Paris that we all love. I also wanted to convey the sense of discovery within the store, highlighting the various elements and unique architectural details it contains. There are numerous pieces from the collection and Hermès family history throughout the store. In my window installation, I wanted to evoke the feeling of exploring and encountering the unexpected.
ESQ: Is that how the name "The Traveller" came about for the windows?
LC: Yes. In the rue du Faubourg store, I particularly admire the main staircase— the curvature of the marble steps and the way they wrap through the different levels of the store. I aimed to capture that in the window display.
In my work, I often try to evoke the feeling of standing on the threshold between the natural world and some other realm. I think this sensation is familiar to most of us in dreams, where we encounter the familiar juxtaposed with the strange or unexpected. It’s similar to the feeling of being a traveler. I appreciate the way Hermès often captures this sensation in their storytelling.
I have a deep appreciation for architecture and ancient art history. Although I studied painting in school, my love for architecture and decorative arts significantly influences my work. The Hermès Faubourg store stands out in that regard.
ESQ: It reminds me of your work as well, because you do feature a lot of stairs in your artworks.
LC: Exactly. I frequently use stairs as a symbol in my work, drawing on art history. Many painters and sculptors have used stairs as a psychological symbol of transition. For example, William Blake’s painting of Jacob’s Ladder and Martin Puryear’s "Ladder for Booker T. Washington" come to mind.
ESQ: What's the process like in creating "The Traveller"? Was it a deviation from your usual process?
LC: This installation was slightly different. Typically, when I create an exhibition for a gallery or museum, I start by making a model of the space and studying its architecture. Usually, I consider the path and vantage points that the viewer has as they walk through the space. However, for the Hermès window installation, the viewer has one main vantage point, which in a way, gave me more freedom. I knew I wanted to create an illusion of depth and space beyond the window. I began with sketches—probably around 20 ideas that only my husband saw—before choosing one and developing it further.
ESQ: Because you're also interested in architecture, did the architecture of the Liat Tower building kind of informed how it was going to look like as well?
LC: Because I live in New York, I hadn’t visited the Hermès Singapore store before, but I studied photos provided by the Hermès team and also different views of the building from the street view on Google Maps. In planning the window, I considered the architectural features, such as the height of the window. Creating this installation felt similar to creating a diorama or tableau, which aligns with my background in painting. A window offers a controlled view, similar to a painting.
ESQ: What was the biggest challenge in designing a window for Hermès?
LC: A key challenge was finding where my artistic vision and the Hermès aesthetic would intersect. I had to ensure both worlds remained distinct while complementing each other.
ESQ: Did you also have to consider where products would be placed or how they would be placed?
LC: Yes, I had a lot of freedom—pretty much full creative license, which was exciting, like a shopping experience.
ESQ: I've looked through a lot of what you've done before and there's clearly a sense of fantasy, dream-like reality to your work. And you often use a lot of pastel colours. Has anything from your own childhood informed or influenced the use of these colours?
LC: I think my colour palette is heavily influenced by growing up in the southern part of the United States. I went to school at the Savannah College of Art and Design, in Savannah, Georgia, one of America’s oldest cities known for its beautiful pastel Victorian and colonial architecture. After Savannah, I went to graduate school in Richmond, Virginia—also an old southern city. It’s hard to explain, but both of those cities have a distinct feeling of place and history. The unique atmosphere there contrasted with my suburban upbringing and profoundly influenced my artistic sensibility. All of my work, going back to college has been influenced by that experience.
ESQ: Is there a story behind the use of the specific colours for "The Traveller"?
LC: The colour palette emerged from collaboration with the Hermès team. Some of my initial sketches were darker, but I’m pleased it evolved into brighter tones. The pastels reflect the stone and marble of the original Faubourg store and work really well with Hermès’ colour palette.
ESQ: I read in previous interviews that you also kind of tie some of your works to dreams that you’ve had. Was there a specific dream that you had for "The Traveller"?
LC: I've been studying my dreams carefully for about five years now. In my dreams, I often find myself in familiar places, like a grandparent’s house, but I keep discovering hidden doors, stairwells, or entire rooms that I didn’t know were there. I have this type of dream frequently, and I wanted to bring that sensation into the Hermès installation—that feeling of discovery and mystery.
ESQ: Have you learnt anything from studying your dreams?
LC: Definitely. Yes, I feel like a completely different person after spending five years studying my dreams. I agree with Carl Jung’s idea that dreams often reveal parts of yourself that you didn’t know were there. Dreams come from the unconscious realm—quite literally, the part of you that you’re not aware of. Sometimes the unconscious can reveal something encouraging; other times, it stings a little. But it’s valuable information, and I’ve found studying my dreams to be really rewarding.
ESQ: Do you dream in colour?
LC: I do, and some dreams have particularly vivid colours, though not always. Colour is a whole other type of symbolic language.
ESQ: It does seem as well that your work mostly has this positive, dream-like energy. But I do feel that there are some darker influences in certain pieces.
LC: I'm curious what pieces you’re thinking of.
ESQ: For example, "Fix your eyes on the unseen realm" and “Lover’s Knot" I feel had darker undertones.
LC: I think what you’re picking up on is that feeling of witnessing something that is simultaneously familiar and uncanny. I'm intrigued by spiritual ideas and the realm of the unconscious, which is why I often discuss dreams in relationship to my work. I think most of us have experienced this feeling in our dreams; there’s a mysterious aspect to dreams. Carl Jung referred to it as “the numinous” aspect of dreams. The sculpture, “Lover’s Knot” is inspired by an old Scottish folk song, "Barbara Allen", which is about unrequited love and a couple who die and are buried next to each other. Out of one’s grave, a thorn bush grows, and out of the other, a rose bush, and they grow together, intertwined. It’s a folk song that influenced early country music, but there’s definitely a dark element to that reference.
ESQ: Is it important for you to keep your artwork kind of lighthearted?
LC: Given the darkness in the world, I prefer to bring light. The New York art scene can be very cynical and political, which isn’t my focus.
ESQ: It feels like your work is a collage of different ideas and references, that you then twist into your own vision. In some ways, to me, it echoes what AI does, right? Pulling out information from everywhere, and then generating an image. What are your thoughts on AI with respect to art?
LC: I find it fascinating. I’ve experimented with AI for generating ideas, and I think it’s an exciting tool. There are artists who have been successfully using it for years—like Jon Rafman. I’ve only played with it a bit but I’ve used it to inspire new concepts, feeding in images of my work and observing the results. It has sparked ideas for a few of my drawings. Sometimes it has good ideas. (laughs)
ESQ: There's this saying that likens a painting to a window and now that you've done an Hermès window, how do you feel about it?
LC: Working on this installation for Hermès felt particularly poignant because it literally serves as a window, offering a curated view into a space that is simultaneously real but impossible. Just as I do in all my work, for this project, I wanted to create a bridge between the familiar and the fantastical, allowing viewers to experience a moment of discovery.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
As I write this, Taylor Swift will be boarding one of her private aircraft and jetting off for Paris, bringing to an end the months of foolishness that culminated in her six sell-out Singapore stadium shows. Out of love for my daughters, I spent hours in front of the laptop unsuccessfully attempting to purchase tickets to those concerts. 'Twas a fool's errand. Matched only in silliness by the task of schlepping to the stadium this past weekend and standing in the midday sun for 90 minutes to secure the consolation prize of outrageously overpriced Swiftie merch.
While we missed Tay-Tay, earlier this year, my eldest and I were fortunate enough to catch the opening night of another artistic showcase. One possessing somewhat greater cultural merit than Ms Swift’s 3.5-hour performances of polished pop. (At least, that’s what I thought. My teenage daughter may beg to differ.) Held as part of Singapore Art Week, Translations: Afro-Asian Poetics was an exhibition staged by local non-profit The Institutum across several venues at Gillman Barracks. The exhibit collected the works of 100 noted artists of Asian or African background, including Ai Wei Wei, Yinka Shonibare CBE and Nick Cave (the American sculptor, performance artist, fashion designer and academic, not the moody Australian troubadour).
The exhibition’s curator, Zoe Whitley, director of the Chisenhale Gallery in East London, said it intended to highlight "the solidarity and synergies between cultures of the Asian and African diasporas." In conversation the day before the opening, Whitley told me beyond that goal, she hoped the art on the show would confound preconceptions of African or Asian art and defy more granular, national-level stereotypes. "People should come with an open mind," she advised.
"A lot of the artists in the exhibition have the lived experience of—certainly with institutional invitations— being asked to do something because they’re Korean, because they’re Malaysian, because they’re South African," or what have you, she said. Whitley felt the works she’d curated would surprise visitors carrying pre-conceived notions of what Asian or African art might look like. "The fact that by just looking at it, you wouldn't necessarily be able to identify which artwork came from which part of the world is kind of the point," she said.
"In thinking about what’s projected onto us, it’s important for us to not necessarily be tethered by expectations," she explained. "None of the artists in this exhibition are reducing themselves or their possibilities. You wouldn’t look at Bronwyn Katz, for example, and think, oh, that's quintessentially South African art. Every artist (featured in the exhibition) is thinking in new and exciting ways," she said.
"With this exhibition, what is crucial is the diasporic experience," Whitley noted. "That sense of what it means to spread, to migrate, to be from one place and to make a home somewhere else." She felt this common background of being a migrant or the descendant of migrants—an origin story shared by every one of us in Singapore—was what bound these works by artists of disparate racial, national, spiritual and cultural backgrounds.
"Once you've come from somewhere else, what does that mean for creating a new culture?" she pondered. When you’ve settled in a new country, "What does it mean to be Chinese? What does it mean to be Korean? What does it mean to be Ghanaian or Nigerian or African American?" Whitley asked. "So many of the artists, those who I know personally in this exhibition, have had that sense of not being X enough in one place, or being too X in another"—a foreigner in both the land of their origins and their adopted home.
As the surname suggests, winemaker Max Schubert’s family were of German background. Regardless, he didn't hesitate from enlisting with the Australian army and shipping off to fight the Nazis during WWII. After serving with distinction, Schubert resumed work at Penfolds Wines, where he'd started as a messenger boy in 1931. Appointed chief winemaker in 1948, aged just 33, Schubert journeyed back to Europe to see how things were done at legendary Bordeaux estates such as Château Lafite Rothschild and Château Margaux.
He returned to Australia with a vision for making a wine that would stand up against anything produced in the Old World; a robust red that would get better and better with age. Initially working in secret, Schubert created a bold yet nuanced shiraz he dubbed "Grange Hermitage". Some 70 years later, Grange is among the world's most respected and sought-after wines, described by uber-critic Robert Parker as "a leading candidate for the richest, most concentrated dry table wine on planet Earth."
Several years ago, I sat at dinner next to a representative of a historic, highly respected French winery. They whispered in my ear as a glass of Grange was served, "Ah, mais non, we have nothing that can beat this." I recently related this story to Penfolds' senior winemaker Steph Dutton. I asked how she felt about being the guardian of what is probably Australia’s foremost luxury export.
"You feel excited and proud," she said. "And nervous. Australians have a huge affection for Penfolds. And obviously, they're incredibly proud about Penfolds Grange representing 'Brand Australia' to the rest of the world." As the market for Grange spans the globe, Dutton said, "Export markets are always going to be important to us as a brand. So making sure that we benchmark against the world's best of the best—that keeps us operating to a higher standard."
As a vigneron, you're always thinking about legacy. About leaving something for the next generation, preserving the brand's reputation for the long-term, Dutton said. "There’s this lovely reminder that as winemakers, every single time you put something to bottle, it will probably outlive you, with our flagships anyway: Grange, Bin 707, and so forth," she said, namechecking Penfolds' top-tier shiraz and cabernet sauvignon, respectively.
Bottles of Schubert’s inaugural 1951 vintage Grange are still being consumed. One was sold at auction in December 2021 for a record AUD157,624 (SGD138,630), the highest price ever paid for an Australian wine. This longevity means Penfolds' best wines preserve triumphs and failures for decades to come. "If there's something that's not right, you're probably going to have to face up to that literally for the rest of your life," as Dutton put it. "That is a good double-check we use when we're doing our work: if we're not proud of something, let's figure out what we need to change."
That's not to say Penfolds is mired in tradition. Don't forget that the very creation of Grange was an act of rebellion, and many of the house's signature bin-numbered labels began life as risky winemaking experiments. "Our winemakers do a really good job of respecting the work of their predecessors and looking at what tradition counts for," Dutton said. But she reckons the company’s design and marketing departments keep the traditionalists on their toes with moves like bringing Japanese street-style icon, A Bathing Ape founder Nigo, aboard for creative collabs. "They do a really good job of making sure that we’re always nudged forward." Looking to the future? Nothing foolish about that.
Returning for its 17th edition this year, Maison Guerlain's perennial partnership with Art Basel Paris is set to present Good Morning Korea, In the Land of the Morning Calm. The exhibition will spotlight South Korean artists from all walks of life, including the late Nam June Paik, Lee Bul, and Anicka Yi, among others.
Besides pushing boundaries in fragrances and beauty, Guerlain remains dedicated to the principles of heritage and innovation. Guerlain is also committed in providing a platform for artists to showcase their creativity, believing that art has the unique ability to evoke and share memories—be it personal or collective. It's no surprise then that South Korea was chosen as a focus this time around. South Korea's impact as the creative muse of the Western world embodies this philosophy, with its wealth of artistic ideas providing a look into the perspectives of a growing arts and culture nation.
Good Morning Korea, In the Land of the Morning Calm is curated by Hervé Mikaeloff, the exhibition invites visitors to explore memory through a multi-sensory experience in the form of an olfactory journey that links several works, subtly connecting visual and scent-based memories.
The works featured in the exhibition highlight the profound connections South Korean artists have with nature, technology, and the challenges of contemporary society, guiding us through the timeline of South Korea's cultural evolution and its rich, diverse heritage.
An icon in performance and technology-based art, the late Nam June Paik was the first artist to display abstract forms on television by using magnets to distort images. He also famously pioneered the use of portable video cameras—what we now refer to as "digicams". He firmly believed that technology will reinvent the way we create and share art, foreseeing a future of camcorders, live-streaming, and social media. Nam skilfully merged Eastern and Western influences, transforming our inward gaze into an endless technological quest.
Lee is known for her bold, genre-crossing works that explore themes of beauty, corruption, and decay. A pioneer in South Korea's art scene, she continues to inspire younger artists with her early iconoclastic performances and multi-sensory installations, pushing the boundaries of visual art. Her work has been featured in solo exhibitions at major museums worldwide, including the Hayward Gallery in London, Berlin's Martin Gropius-Bau, and Paris' Palais de Tokyo, just to name a few.
Good Morning Korea, In the Land of the Morning Calm will feature Lee's work that delves into ideas of perfection and the distorted realities of modern identity, blending feminine forms with robotic elements to create cyborgs.
Anicka Yi explores the hidden politics and associations of smell by creating unique fragrances, and incorporating scent into sculptures. She constantly pushes the boundaries of science, technology and art, aiming to create new, unsettling and futuristic experiences that challenge traditional notions of her artwork. Her work has been showcased at prominent venues the likes of the Tate Modern in London, and even in Singapore's Art Science Museum.
Yi uses algorithms to create holographic paintings, blending patterns from past work (her "visual DNA") with motifs that draw from both the organic and the technological, raising questions about how art can evolve in the digital age.
Beginning her career as a novelist, Omyo Cho has evolved to create artworks that reflect her literary roots—from sculptures, to installations and VR videos that exist as nonlinear phenomena on a different level. Cho's works have been showcased in numerous group exhibitions including the Surim Art Center, Ulsan Contemporary Art Festival, and Osan Museum of Art. Cho's piece for the exhibition, "Barrel Eyes", invites the audience to envision a future where memories take on concrete forms in real time, redefining our understanding of time and memory.
The Good Morning Korea, In the Land of the Morning Calm exhibition will run from 16 October to 12 November 200 at Maison Guerlain, 68 avenue des Champs-Elysées, 75008 Paris.
“We don’t sell watches, we sell art pieces,” is what CEO of BOVET, Pascal Raffy told me over lunch at the BOVET Story Exhibition. And for years, that's exactly what they've done—creating timepieces so exquisite you'd be forgiven for thinking they belong in a museum rather than on your wrist. This focus on artistry is precisely why everyday-wear timepieces are a rarity for the brand. However, after years of requests from collectors and customers, Raffy finally decided to break tradition with a daily timepiece that somehow manages to still retain that air of artistry. Introducing the Récital 12, BOVET's first-ever bracelet timepiece.
Two years. That's how long BOVET spent researching and developing a bracelet that would meet the house’s standards. Crafted from grade 5 titanium—a material known for its strength and corrosion resistance—the watch is not only durable but also remarkably lightweight. Its density is only 60 per cent of stainless-steel, making it weigh nearly half of a hypothetical stainless-steel counterpart. But now, onto the main selling point.
The subtle lustre and smooth finish of the bracelet lends a sophisticated look to the timepiece. It features a V-shaped design, borrowing from the “V” in BOVET which contours the wrist, creating a slimming effect. Interestingly, when the clasps are folded, it forms an infinity symbol.
The links are engineered to move independently and feature an expansion mechanism allowing up to 3mm of adjustability throughout the day, ensuring a perfect drape on any wrist.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but the Récital 12 lays its soul bare for all to see. The 13BMDR12C2 calibre is a brand-new movement that’s been flipped on its belly to bring the intricate mechanics typically hidden on the caseback to the forefront. With a power reserve of seven days or 168 hours and a sweeping arched power indicator at 12 o'clock, the movement is both capable and visually striking.
At a glance, the face of the timepiece looks pretty convoluted, but closer inspection reveals a balanced horizontal symmetry within the inner workings of the Récital 12. The hour and minute hands rest on a dial that stands alone like an island—which are available in dark blue, emerald green, or turquoise lacquered guilloché.
As a testament to Raffy's vision of BOVET watches as wearable art pieces, the three-pronged seconds wheel breaks convention by sitting outside the dial among the exposed gear wheels at 9 o'clock. This deliberate deconstruction of traditional watch design elements creates a visual dialogue, leaving room for artistic interpretations—but I’ll leave that for you to ponder its meaning.
