"Two and a half years later" by a Watchmaker's Wife

 

In the micro-machining industry, Josh Hacko is a man whose time and attention is both scarce and sought-after. So, I count myself lucky, because for me, he is the most accessible man in the world: my husband. Being married to a watchmaker-machinist is not something that many women in Australia can claim. In fact, it sounds so exotic to most strangers that introducing myself as the “wife of a watchmaker” is often far more interesting than describing my own job in creative media.  That being said, to claim that I understand what Josh does day-to-day is stretching the truth. Asking “how was your day, honey?” is often met with very a detailed explanation far beyond my comprehension. (If you’ve ever listened to his podcast “The Precision Microcast”, you’ll understand what I mean). While this can sometimes be frustrating for both of us, I’ve also been dumbfounded on multiple occasions by Josh’s wealth of knowledge when chatting to other industry experts. And did I mention he’s mostly self-taught? As such, I often find him scrolling articles or research papers on his phone about the newest machine or watchmaking technique (…okay, so maybe he’s a nerd). But on the upside, I know Josh will never come home complaining about the 9-5 grind. And I know he is unlikely to have a mid-life crisis and suddenly want to “quit and become a DJ”. But, on the downside, it also means long hours, regular late-night work calls that stretch into the early morning, and countless weekends tinkering in the workshop “just for fun”.  Of course, being married to anyone who describes his work as “also his hobby” isn’t always sunshine and roses. In our case, it’s more “moonlight and machine oil”. But, I’m grateful because this watchmaking work - or “hobby” - of his is exactly that: it’s his. While some women contend with husbands whose model-trains consume their third bedroom, or whose Lego collection adorns their otherwise perfectly-decorated lounge room shelves, my watchmaker husband is very happy to exercise his craft exclusively in his workshop. And so our home remains (mostly) devoid of tools and machinery.  At this point, you might be wondering if being married to a watchmaker was what I expected when we said “I do”.  I guess having our makeshift COVID wedding in the city office should have been a pretty clear sign. I knew the hours would be long, and that I’d spend a decent amount of time on my own. Fortunately, Josh married an introvert who’s very content with her own company and has about a dozen hobbies. What I didn’t expect was the persistence of machine-oil stains on everything - work-shirts, good shirts, pants, hats, you name it. What I also didn’t expect was how exciting it would all be. Most watchmakers around the world are content to sit at their bench, pull things apart and put them back together again. Not Josh. Being at the forefront of Australian watchmaking (and manufacturing) means that everything is important and full of potential - every new dial made, every employee hired, and every newsletter written. This excitement is contagious and has also given me the unexpected opportunity to try my hand at newsletter writing, designing booklets, helping in the office, and even joining on work trips, all of which I am incredibly grateful for. Possibly the most unexpected - and ironic - part about being married to Josh, though, is that he doesn’t actually wear a watch. Maybe it’s the curse of knowing too much about the industry; maybe it’s a question of priorities, or simply one of habit (after-all, it’s dangerous to wear a watch in the workshop), but to me it’s possibly my favourite characteristic to highlight. Strangers are often confused and astonished by this fact, but it just makes me smile.  You see, a man can spend all his money adorning his wrist with the “best” and fanciest watches in the world. But unless he really knows what he’s wearing - how it works, how it’s made, its history and brand story - then how much sophistication does he really have? A man can own a watch and lose it, break it or have it stolen, but if he can make that said watch, well… he’s unstoppable.  Maybe it’s biased for me to say this, but I reckon that Josh and Nick have one of the most interesting stories of any family-owned business in Australia. And they are so generous in sharing their story - manufacturing process, history, future plans (and now personal behind-the-scenes details) - with their supporters. I’m incredibly lucky to have a front-row seat, but you’re all sitting only a couple of rows back, witnessing it all close-up too. But for now, we’re just taking it one day - one oil stain - at a time… Maryellen Hacko

Here is a link to 'The Precision Microcast' podcast: https://rss.com/podcasts/microcast/

Too old, too dumb, and unwilling to invest

 

Every once in a while, we get a customer with an "un-fixable" watch. Something that requires a part or tool no longer in existence, an ungodly amount of man-hours, or an enthusiasm-eroding invoice estimation. An even rarer occurrence, a customer who faces all three roadblocks but is willing to proceed. The subject: a simple Piaget bumper movement from approximately the 1960s. The situation: after the watch sustained some compressive damage to its case, the caseback was no longer free enough to be removed for service. The watch had been taken to several watchmakers (some of the best in the country) in and out of Sydney with workshops of varying ability. However, it was met with the same response. Case back won't come off, too delicate to force off with the tools we have available, not willing to incur wrath if destroyed in the process. Let's be realistic, these are absolutely valid objections. The Piaget case and caseback are of solid gold construction, already making them quite soft and easy to deform (the issue in the first place), and it is very fitting of its era - thin and delicate. In no time at all, the wrong case opening tools will tank its value and leave lasting scars.

Unfortunately the Piaget did not make this easy for anyone. The case back had a raised dodecagonal platform that the humble Piaget watchmaker would seat a custom tool onto, to safely remove the caseback. Finding such a tool is a statistical impossibility. Making one is expensive and time consuming. So we got started right away. First, the caseback and case was measured to construct a landscape on which the custom tool would fit. Then, a design was drawn up for a tool to fit both the caseback and the bench mounted case back opener that the tool will be held in. What we want from the tool is close to an exact fit on the caseback so as to not mark or deform the shape as you would using the wrong size spanner on a bolt head. In theory, a 38mm dodecagon fits on a 38mm dodecagon but in reality it does not. The case back is already slightly deformed through the initial damage and subsequent unsuccessful removal attempts. On top of this, you would need maybe 10um (micron) clearance on the diameter for a very snug fit.

The last thing to take into consideration is the sharp corner between each face. Because we want the shape so close to match, we have to consider the radius of the endmill being used. This radius will be transferred to our Piaget tool, meaning even with enough clearance on the total size of the shape, the internal rounded corners of the tool profile would interfere with the external sharp corners of the caseback profile. A simple design feature known as a 'dog ear' (please email if you know what the correct name for this feature is called) is added to each corner. Basically the end mill used is programmed to move outside the profile such that the radius is no longer interfering. You can see here that Breitling is using a similar feature. The design was sent down to Brookvale to be realised.

The initial brass bar stock was turned down in our Shaublin lathe with a few of the features to fit the bench mounted opening tool. The entirety of the Piaget caseback side of the tool was milled in our Kern Micro HD after being design and programmed on Fusion360. Once finished on the Micro HD, the tool was brought to a manual turret mill to apply the last few features for the tool to fit into the bench mounted case opener. The raw tool is now complete. After some hand de-burring and chamfering, we were ready to give it a shot.

To say that it was an easy to remove caseback even with the custom tool would be a lie. The mid-case and caseback may as well have been welded together. However the tool (and I) eventually prevailed and the caseback was removed. One thing that may have made it more difficult than usual to open was the presence of a lead seal. Used before the ease of silicone extrusion became the norm, a thin ring of lead was used as its fairly soft nature allowed it to deform readily to seal the movement off from outside water, dust, and watchmakers. Nothing that a little bit of time, over two million dollars’ worth of machinery, two precision machinists, and a watchmaker can't handle.

The actual overhaul itself was fairly complex, but a nice movement to work on. Total hours from start of design to end of overhaul: 36 business hours.

Andrew

Pad printing at TecaPrint, continued.

One of the largest challenges with ultra high quality pad printing is the tension between two important characteristics - clarity, and depth.  Both of these characteristics are technical challenges in and of themselves, and we tackled each in our training at TecaPrint last week. Clarity is driven primarily by three main factors, ink choice, silicone pad choice, and the "cliche", or in english, the template.  Depth, on the other hand is mainly driven by the ink choice, drying time, and the amount of reprints, or restrikes onto the dial. Earlier this week, we wrote about ink and pad selection, but today we will talk about the "cliche". The cliche is foundational to a good quality, clear print. A poorly made cliche, with errors in the graphic will always produce poor results, no matter how good the pad and the inks are. Alternatively, a high quality cliche will provide crisp text, thin lines, and will enable you to reproduce the finest details onto the dial - the foundation for clarity.

Depth in pad printing is incredibly desirable from a watchmakers perspective. It is a sign of true quality, as depth can only be achieved when all the parameters of pad printing are perfectly tuned. It is also a sign of restraint. Depth is slowly created by layering paint on top of itself by printing the same pattern multiple times. Obviously you can do this for eternity and have as much depth as you like! The trade off is clarity. At one point the print becomes messy, thick, floppy and fuzzy. All the clarity you gained by having a fantastic cliche, great inks and a perfect silicone pad is ruined by just printing one too many times! Sometimes the difference between clear, voluminous print, and a "bloated" print is just one hit. Knowing where that line is and sticking below it shows a mastery of the entire process.

One of my favourite stories from my time at TecaPrint came from my tour of their in-house cliche manufacturing lab. Cliches are usually made of hardened steel and have a pattern etched, engraved or lasered into them. The pattern is only 18-25um deep, and must be extremely tightly controlled so that the ink that is trapped in the relief is picked up by the pad without any distortion of the image.  TecaPrint uses a very special process to acid-etch steel plates with the image. Whether it be a simple cliche with just the name of a company, or a complex graphic, like the minute track of a watch dial, with many lines, shapes, dots, text and markers. Macedonian born Mite, the head of the cliche manufacturing department, is in charge of making these plates. First the plates are lapped to a mirror finish, and polished so they are totally scratch free and dead flat. The type of steel that is used is also critical to ensure a long life of the cliche, but understandably, I have to remain tight lipped about that! After lapping, the plates are coated with a photo-resistive film which is then exposed in a monochromatic light cabinet to reveal the image onto the film that covers the plate.

The film is then developed and "hardened" in a chemical bath. Once hardened the exposed areas of the film are washed away, revealing the raw surface of the plate.  The whole plate is then placed in an acid bath which slowly etches only those areas that do not have the protective film. This is tightly controlled so that the etched image is approximately 20um deep. Any deeper and the amount of ink that is pushed into the relief is too great, and any lighter and the pad will struggle to pick up enough ink to transfer properly. One extremely important step, and Mite's specialty, occurs after the hardening process, and before the etching process. This process is called the "retouching phase" and involves skilful hand work under a powerful microscope. The image that is about to be etched in the next stage often has small errors. Either areas that are not properly formed, or little dots that look like "noise" in the pad. Mite spends up to 3 hours under the microscope hand painting the errors out in the image. A flawless cliche is thanks to TecaPrint's stable and well tuned etching process, but equally Mite's steady hand and 19 years of experience hand-correcting cliches!

Mite was really lovely. He spent the better part of an hour explaining everything in the lab, and you could instantly see that he was truly passionate about his job. "I love this - seeing the image come to life, knowing that my hand had a little part to play in the process is so exciting". As I was leaving the lab I turn around and thank Mite for his time. I can't help but see something in the corner of my eye. I point to the wall, a Rolex calendar is hanging just above his microscope. "Lovely dials, don't you think?!" Mite shrugs, and with a smile on his face points to a batch of cliches that are waiting for his magic touch.  "Every year Rolex sends me a calendar. It's a small gesture, but it makes my job of working on all these new models so much more satisfying" My heart drops as I realise who is standing before me... Yes there are designers, and engineers, and technicians and watchmakers that make that crown-marked-watch, but Mite, a veteran of nearly two decades has been the final stage of QC for every single cliche for every single pad printed Rolex watch in the better part of the 21st century. And here, the same man that painted the minute-track pad printing cliche for the latest Submariner, hands me the MK2 pad printing cliche for our minute track... "Enjoy" he says, "Thank you for visiting my lab, and not just sending a calendar!" No, thank YOU, Mite!

Built to last

 

"Explore the world, but make sure to return home," is an old Slavic saying. Yet 'returning home'—even for a short holiday stop-over—can be a weird experience. After 30 years, streets look smaller, and familiar faces become harder to find.  What does remain the same is the perpetual cycle of seasons, where spring is always followed by summer and autumn inevitably leads into winter. My home town was established 2400 years ago by the mighty Romans. But they were not the first settlers. 7000 years ago, the Balkan peninsula was settled by people we know very little about: the Vincans - the most technologically-advanced civilisation in the world at that time. Not only did they have their own alphabet, but Vincans possessed advanced metallurgical skills almost one thousand years before tribes from the Middle Eastern cradle of civilisation ever did. The list of tribes who occupied the Balkans over the next five thousand years is a mile long, but it  was the Romans who turned a small crossroads settlement on the banks of the river Sava into a mighty imperial city. They named it Sirmium. The city was grandiose and important; a birth place of no less than ten Roman emperors! Surmium lasted for almost 900 years, until it was destroyed by Avars, but that is another story altogether.  The other day, Josh and I visited the town museum. We were the only visitors on a hot summer's day. "Make sure you check out the sundial clock," said the museum Kustos, who also happened to be a childhood friend and neighbour of mine.   Two hours later, we were still trying to locate the Roman sundial amongst rows of amphoras, sarcophagus, pottery, mosaic flooring, frescos and literally thousands of statues in the museum garden. Eventually, defeated, we returned to the museum-keeper for help. "How could you have missed it? It's right here, in front of your nose!" she laughed, pointing at a massive statue of Atlas, sculptured in white marble.

In truth, the clock dial was hidden behind the statue. The iron gnomon was missing, but the main plate was still crisp. "If you want to make a permanent mark in time, engrave your name in stone," said Josh. So true. The composition was both complex and detailed: at the front, Atlas was holding the dial, while Hercules and Iphicles were on the reverse, on either side of the pointer. It was indeed a grandiose timepiece sculptured to be placed in front of the mansion of a Roman emperor!  We were told that the sundial clock dates from the first century. It was amazingly well-preserved for a 2000-year-old timepiece! The mystery of who commissioned the sculpture, who crafted it and for whom it was for will forever remain a mystery. Yet, for the two of us, as well as countless generations to come, this Roman timepiece will remain an inspiring work of beauty.  A truly timeless piece.  "So it is beauty that won over accuracy," I proclaimed. "Yes, this time that seems to be the case," replied Josh.

Pad printing

 

Teca-Print AG is a manufacturer of pad printing machines in a town in north-eastern Switzerland. For the last year and a half, we have been using their machines to pad print onto our watch dials, and just last week I did a day of advanced training in their headquarters in Thayngen! Thayngen is a very small village about 20km north of Schaffhausen on the Swiss-German border. Pad printing is a dark art. Even after nearly two decades, the techniques, processes, and "know-how" for high quality pad printing are still heavily guarded and regulated.

High quality pad printing is like a dance, a perfect end result is the consequence of constant parameter tuning. The ink viscosity, the room humidity and temperature, the material of the dial being printed on, the surface finish, the pressure applied to the dial, the composition, hardness, age, and quality of the pad that is transferring the ink, the pigment size in the ink, the ratio of thinner to hardener, to ink pigment... the list goes on.

One example of how difficult and varied the parameters of printing can be is in the ‘pad’. Generally, pads are cone shaped and made from specific types of silicone with varying hardness’s. The specific shape of the pad has a large influence on the way the pad printing process behaves - flatter, less sharp cone shapes tend to have LESS distortion in the design that is being printed (imagine a square design getting distorted into a cushion shape, or a circle turning into an ellipse). On the other hand, sharper, pointier pads tend to be less susceptible to errors like smudging, ghost images or streaking in the print. Moreover, the type of silicone, and the hardness of the silicone are also variables that can be tuned. Some silicones have antistatic properties that work well with inks that print onto plastics, whereas other silicones work exceptionally well for types of inks that bond better to metals. The hardness of these silicones is also tuneable. Hard, stiff silicone is fantastic for reproducing the finest of details, hair-width lines, and font, but require a lot of pressure to work, which can damage the dials! Soft silicones are a great alternative for delicate parts that require printing but have the tendency to smudge or not be able to pick up very fine details.

To make things worse, Teca-Print stocks 2000 different sizes and shapes of pads, with 5 different silicone compositions and 5 different silicone hardness's! That's a very large selection to choose from! While I was at Teca-Print, I was being trained by a gentleman called Armin. Armin was the top applications engineer at Teca-Print, with 4 years of experience as the go-to guy for the leading Swiss pad printing machine manufacturer. He trained many people within the watchmaking industry, local within German speaking Switzerland, (think IWC), as well as the French speaking side, (think Swatch group, Richemont, LVMH, as well as... everyone else). Armin guided us with some tricky requests that we provided him, and produced some processes and tips that we will for sure take home! After a full day of training, just before we were due to go home, Armin disappeared into an Alibaba's-cave-like storeroom that contained every single pad printing supply that Teca-Print stocked... He emerged with a cheeky yet victorious smile and handed me a small package with a very specific looking silicone pad. "This one will work. I know for sure". Puzzled, I couldn't help but to ask, "How do you know!?" "Ah well, of all the pads we stock, shapes, sizes and colours, our neighbour in Schaffhausen, who prints all their dials in-house, uses this one, and only this one." Thank you Armin!

Philippe Dufour or Ludovic Ballouard?

 

Let me get straight to it: Dufour's presentation at the Geneva fair was rather bleak. Or more precisely: there was no 'Dufour' presentation at all. As just one of the five panellists, in an hour and 15 minutes, the greatest master of modern watchmaking barely uttered five sentences.  Some legends are best when observed from a distance. Luckily, I spotted Ludovic Ballouard in the audience. Ludovic is a Genevese watchmaker -  complicated, witty and eccentric - one could say just like his watches. As the presentation was nearing the end, it was obvious that I would have just one photo opportunity. And without a second thought, I picked LB.

"Excuse me, Mr Ballouard, would it be possible to have a photo with you?" He was delighted, extending his massive arm. I quickly introduced myself, while complimenting the watch he was wearing: the famous 'Half Time'. And unlike Dufour, Ludovic was genuinely excited, talkative, polite and very friendly. He said that he is yet to visit Australia - and, as it would be expected, I offered to 'take him around' while in Sydney. The chat went on. I pointed out that I am a very keen 'student of horology' and, since recently, a watchmaker. "Watchmaker? In Australia?" Yes, indeed. Of course, an aspiring watchmaker far away from home, should not miss an opportunity to slip in a word or two about his own work. As with anything, timing is everything, so to Ludovic's surprise, I pulled out both the Mark II and NH 55, proudly stating that this very watch has just been submitted to the Louis Vuitton competition. I pointed out the obvious: while the watch mechanism is of a rather humble design, the dial and all bridges were made of tricomposite titanium alloy. The hands are made out of titanium, and so is the case, all of them manufactured in our own workshop, in a country with no horological history. Monsieur Ballouard was visibly excited. He quickly congratulated both Josh and myself, then proceeded to ask numerous questions about the finishes, anodization of timascus and guilloche on the dial. And Josh and myself were struggling to hide our excitement. The 'tick of approval', the one that counts.

Approved

 

The Geneva watchmaking fair is an annual event that showcases the crème de la crème of the Swiss manufacturing industry. From spring and jewel makers to complex part makers to complete movement, case, and bracelet manufacturers. The large exhibitors are CNC machine makers as well as measuring equipment specialists. Plus, everything in between that is watch related.  The cherries at the top are the small stands featuring craftsmen sub-specialised to a razor narrow field - like marquetry box craftsmen, crystal cutters, diamond setters and guillochers. Unlike anchor exhibitors, those small independent craftsmen come and go. Often, a trade fair could generate enough work for a few years, so there is no guarantee you'll see them next time - if ever. I was really excited to see the guillocher whom I first met six years ago. His workshop has 20 guilloche Rose engines and employs 7 masters. I've told him about our recent acquisition of a straight line machine, which was a collective effort of our small team and our newsletter subscribers. The chat was cordial and with plenty of mutual respect. "What is the biggest challenge in your business?" I asked. "Money!" - he replied quickly. The big brands, who are his best customers, are overly focused on squeezing as much profit as possible out of his work. In the past, dials were made mainly in gold. Nowadays, it's almost exclusively brass. The end result is not the same: nothing beats gold for lustre and clarity of the cut. After a while, I got a little braver - but I didn't want to rush or push my luck. "I'll stop by tomorrow again, but with two small requests, if you don't mind." He was obviously curious but simply happy to oblige. The next day I showed up at his stand around closing time. Two requests? He asked.  Yes. The first one is to allow me to take a bunch of photos of himself, behind the rose engine. Second: I would like to show him my watch with a Curl Curl guilloche dial, with the expectation that he honestly and mercilessly marks Josh's work.

Getting the watch out of the pouch, unwrapping, and handing it over to a master guillocher was far more stressful than anticipated. He took the Mark II carefully, placed it under the light, twisting it around, looking for reflection, while assessing the pattern and colour.  He was quite surprised when I told him that our dial was made of titanium, not a soft brass, commonly used in manual processes.   "The pattern is quite exquisite. Very well defined, mature. I like the colour as well" he said. Obviously, I was pleased and relieved. "But now, I am going to examine it under high magnification. You know what that means, don't you? I will be looking for imperfections!" And this was exactly what I was hoping for. To the naked eye, every guilloche is fine. The beauty is revealed under the loupe, but the fireworks happen when the dial is examined under the microscope. For us, the closer, the better. Quite frankly, I don't remember the exact words, but he was struggling to hide the excitement. I don't speak French, and he struggles with English, yet I am pretty sure he said 'magnificent'. More than once. And that was it. While the entire interaction was probably less than a minute or two, to me, it was played in slow motion. The weight of the entire Geneva fair and the weight of the past 10 years of independence was lifted of my shoulders, with the single nod of a master. Finally, the reason why we do what we do made perfect sense. Our time has come. _____________ To order your NH MK2 Curl Curl brochure and to add your name to the order list, email: mail@clockmaker.com.au  The next batch of watches is already in production, with the release date of August 1. Price $6,900