Movements are beautiful, don't you think? All these shapes, curves and structures... They're like a painting. But if there is no winner between painting and sculpture in art, there is one in watchmaking. A movement is more beautiful when it has depth. And I don't mean a pinchful of millimeters somewhere, or light shining on some properly finished surface. I mean depth as in holes, crannies, pits and hollows. I mean a world where width and length are on the same footing as profundity. Where all three drive the gaze into the center and all the way down, down to the other side even, through the case back, through to the skin underneath.
Creating such depth requires to do away with the dial. You can keep odd bits of it, small rings, a minute track, a small seconds, but they should know to be transparent, and to make themselves scarce. When you go to the theater, you don't want a head of hair in front of you. You want to access the stage, unencumbered. And as it happens, watchmaking is a show. It stages itself. Creates unreal spaces where flatness is not welcome. It opens up the eye to a new reality. In that world, watches don't tell time, they tell tales. They don't show the date, but the way to somewhere else. In other worlds, the insides of a properly architectured movement are a perfect place to get lost into.
Then it comes down to means. Such a profound idea demands appropriate execution. There are two paths here. The most obvious is skeletonizing. It starts with getting rid of the dial and a good riddance that is. Then you move on to the matter of ambition. Will you be satisfied with a few home-made, tepid holes? Or will you require a full blown excavation? A safe openworking of some parts of a mainplate? Or a thorough shake up of structures and volumes? You'll have guessed that our preference goes to the most elaborate forms of lattice, those hollowed out enough to shed light on the underlying strata, begging to be admired at last.
The other option is more rare and ambitious. It rests on the creation of a vertical offshoot designed for indication purposes. On the elevation of a turret, endowed with hands or whichever type of pointers you wish. It communicates with hidden underpinnings and grabs all the attention. The way Urwerk's wandering hours calibers are built is a striking example of that. The brand consistently injects new blood into this concept, with a remarkable sense of showmanship.
The vast Astronomia family from Jacob & Co. is another. It thrives in an endless variety of surroundings. The floor that separates the rotating satellite from its base is frequently set with gems. The movement can be intertwined with hand-painted sculptures in the shape of mythical creatures. And the complications borne by the satellite arms range from flower to spinning astronaut by way of the entire repertoire of gems.
Trilobe takes pride of place in this world. The brand usually employs a full and solid movement. But when they created Une Folle Jounée, they looked through a new lens. First of all, they neatly separated the three signature rings they use as hands. Then they perched each one at a different altitude. Add to that their natural off-centered positions and the result looks like a mysterious astrolabe.
Any such three-dimensional watch creation sits under a widely curved sapphire crystal. Every work of art deserves a great frame... and a great lens too. To remain in the background and elevate what it protects, it has to follow a similar curve to what lies beneath. And take the form of a dome.
