There are people who collect watches, and there are people who use watches as portals to something stranger and more interesting. Jaś Rewkiewicz belongs firmly to the latter. A creative director by trade and a cultural shapeshifter by instinct, he moves through the world of horology with the curiosity of an outsider and the confidence of someone who has nothing to prove.
As the designer behind notable creations for Baltic, Anoma and A Collected Man, Jaś (pronounced Yash) has become an unexpected voice influencing how contemporary collectors see, wear and understand mechanical watches. He didn’t grow up dreaming of tourbillons or poring over reference books. His influences run from typography to sci-fi, from Japanese anime to heavy metal. What he collects rarely fits a pattern. What he designs rarely plays by the rules. And what he says about watches is often more revealing about culture, identity and creativity than about the watches themselves.
At a time when taste is increasingly shaped by algorithms and waitlists, Jaś offers something refreshing: a view of watchmaking that is personal, playful and unbothered by convention. He doesn’t chase icons. He doesn’t worship perfection. He prefers tension, irregularity and the odd bit of chaos. To him, a watch is not an accessory but an object with personality, a character to photograph, remix, reinterpret and sometimes reimagine entirely.
We sat down with Jaś to explore the ideas, impulses and subcultures that shape his design work, and the wonderfully non-linear way he builds his collection. What follows is a conversation about creativity, curiosity and the joy of approaching horology sideways.
TC: How did your curiosity toward horology begin, and what sparked your anti-establishment approach? Was there a pivotal moment that made you rethink what collecting “should” look like?
JR: Despite growing up in Switzerland, I had zero interest in watches, but one day the wildly intricate design of a gilt-dial 1940s Doxa chronograph caught my eye. That was the beginning of the end for me. It also took me a long time to consider myself even somewhat of a collector, and I’m still not entirely comfortable with that label, as it comes with a lot of preconceptions. Instead, I prefer to treat “my collection” as an inspirational archive for my creative curiosity in mechanical objects and functional design.
Jaś' other chronograph from the 1940s, anonymous and powered by the revered Valjoux 23.
TC: Do you feel that not having a formal watchmaking or design background gives you a freedom that trained aficionados might not have?
JR: They say that in order to break the rules, you must master them first, and I tend to agree with that. However, not being formally trained gives me a different point of view on designing watches. First, watch design is a side hustle for me, which means less pressure and more freedom to create objects I want to own with people who share my vision. Then, my process is a mix of graphic design, typography, photography and a personal interest in art, architecture and fashion. Finally, as opposed to the traditional watchmaking pursuit of flawlessness, I like to mess things up a bit (like with the Baltic MR01 that we dubbed the “Calatrava on crack”).
"Because perfection can come across as cold and sterile. It’s all about creating a balance with just enough tension."
Baltic MR01 Blue Roulette, in collaboration with A Collected Man.
TC: If you could commission a watch that perfectly encapsulates your personality or taste, what would the design brief look like?
JR: That sounds like a brief I would never finish writing, but it would have to stand out from what’s already out there. I’m not interested in owning the same hype watch as everyone else. I’d much rather think of a niche reference that speaks to me on a personal level. For example, I love how Vianney Halter made himself a unique piece with Klingon numerals. So if I had to commission a watch, I would ask a watchmaker whose universe I admire, or a new one eager to make a name for themselves, to riff off Kaneda’s bike from “Akira”, or to build a “Space Timer” complication that mechanically tracks local time on other planets in the solar system.
TC: As a watch designer, eBay master and DIY hobbyist, what is your craziest creation to date?
JR: My craziest creation to date will be announced early next year at Watches & Wonders. Without giving away any spoilers, the concept was born from a friendship between two very different brands, and while it makes sense for both, neither of them would have done it on their own. Instead of rehashing signature designs, I love the idea of collaboration as a way to generate new thinking through contrasting views.
Another example is a recent fantasy concept, in the functional minimalist style of Dieter Rams, reducing the idea of a timepiece to a wristwatch-pendant hybrid with two revolving rings mounted on tiny industrial rollers. Max Büsser, if you’re reading this, slide into my DMs for a M.A.D.Editions!
Jaś' fantasy concept of a hybrid watch for the neck and the wrist.
TC: How do you balance your own creative impulses with the constraints of craftsmanship, functionality or technical feasibility?
JR: I actually love a tight brief. Creativity is often stronger when it clashes against something. Just like how I would approach a new project for my actual job (which sits at the polar opposite of mechanical watchmaking), I start by identifying what will give a watch its unique personality and story, before focusing on getting that across clearly. The challenge is bringing that vision to life despite limitations of price, availability or access to specific technical capabilities, and I find it even more rewarding when you finally crack it.
Furthermore, today you can’t be an expert at everything, so the role of a creative director has evolved into something more akin to an orchestra conductor.
"Surround yourself with talented people of different skills, empower them to do their thing, then curate and develop the most potent ideas into a singular vision."
TC: How do subcultures influence your collecting choices?
JR: Both in my work and in my collection, I’m drawn to contrast: the clash between traditions and contemporary culture, playing with high and low, pretty and ugly, or even challenging conservative gender norms. Nostalgia plays a big role too, especially sci-fi, heavy metal and Japanese culture. Current fashion influences shape my collecting choices as well, because I tend to imagine how I would style and shoot a watch before pulling the trigger.
Audemars Piguet Royal Oak 56175TT "Nick Faldo Championship" in Tantalum and Steel
TC: Photography plays a central role in how you own a watch. Can you walk us through your creative process — from concept to final shot?
JR: I have this weird feeling that:
"I don’t actually own a watch until I take a decent picture of it."
I spend so long fantasising about it from every angle that I feel the urge to recreate the mental picture I’ve built in my mind. For me, watch photography is not an accurate representation, but an attempt to capture how I perceive the watch through my own lens. Like layers of paint, it’s a trial-and-error process: learning new tricks along the way, and bothering Hosanna (Tom's wife) for late-night lighting advice.
TC: How do you think good watch design invites discovery over time, rather than delivering instant gratification?
JR: Like any good design, a watch should be attractive at first sight and draw you in to discover more. I try very hard to give the watches I design more dimensionality by playing with light, shadows, reflections, distortions and tactility. I’m currently interested in the transition from a watch (functional) to an object (symbolic). As a simple experiment, I turned the Anoma I designed with Matteo into a pendant, which completely changed my perception of it.
Anoma A1 Optical Prototype
TC: Is there an unconventional source (a book, game, meme or genre) that recently inspired a new acquisition or creation?
JR: My “Pagan” project was partially inspired by Imponderable: The Archives of Tony Oursler, a mesmerising book I found in my favourite esoteric bookshop in London: Donlon Books. As a massive nerd who watches anime, plays video games and geeks out on sci-fi, I’m drawn to the raw, industrial and borderline chaotic vibe of the Ōtsuka Lōtec No.5 Kai, which I was fortunate enough to acquire from Japan. It reminds me of the insane mecha designs in masterpieces like Neon Genesis Evangelion, or the more recent Cyberpunk 2077 that almost fried my PS5.
Ōtsuka Lōtec No.5 Kai
TC: Do you aim to provoke dialogue — within the watch community or more broadly — through your collecting decisions? If so, what kind?
JR: My aim is to explore my passion, experiment with watch design and connect with interesting people through our shared interests. If it provokes dialogue and someone sees things a little differently because of me, that’s a bonus. But watchmaking for me is a conversation starter that becomes richer and more interesting when you connect it to diverse influences outside its echo chamber. Often I meet collectors who only want to talk about watches (in an NPC kind of way), and that’s totally fine, but to hijack the wise words of Derek Zoolander: there must be more to life than a really, really, ridiculously good-looking [watch].
Pagan Project: Jaś transformed an unnamed sterling silver watch into an ominous goth "Baignoire", using bespoke typography and a home-printed dial.
TC: How has your approach challenged traditional collectors’ perceptions when they see your pieces
JR: To an outsider, my collection looks schizophrenic, with no logic in sight, other than each individual design standing out to me. Snobbery turns me off, and I dislike the mindset behind “if it’s cheap, it must be bad” or “if that brand has no waitlist, it must not be worth it”. I have some expensive (for me) pieces and also absolute bargains, and I enjoy wearing them all equally. I’m cursed (or blessed) with chicken wrists, and I love sculptural “ladies’” cases at the intersection of watches and jewellery, like my sterling silver Longines cuff watch with a wood dial. And mixing a dress timepiece with camo trousers has become my calling card. My takeaways are:
"Don’t take yourself too seriously, play with context and ultimately enjoy your collection."
TC: Can you share a moment when a watch stopped being just an object and became something deeply personal?
JR: Coming from a working-class background, I didn’t inherit a family heirloom, nor was I wearing a watch for the key moments of my life. So I wouldn’t pinpoint any single watch I own as deeply personal, but that doesn’t make them any less important to me. Some were traded with good friends, like my 1940s copper-gilt anonymous chronograph. Others were grails I saved up for, like my tantalum-and-steel Royal Oak. A few have a strong connection to projects I love and people I respect, like my Anoma and my infamous iced-out Baltic — none of which I will ever let go.
Only Jaś orders his Baltic on the rocks.
Speaking with Jaś is a reminder that watchmaking doesn’t need to be solemn to be meaningful. It can be contradictory, mischievous and deeply personal. His world rejects the tidy categories that collectors often rely on, in favour of instinct, culture and the pleasure of discovering something unexpected. In an industry that can feel increasingly standardised, Jaś shows that there is still room for strange ideas, imperfection and even chaos. And perhaps that is the point: great watches don’t just tell time. They open doors. Sometimes to craft, sometimes to memory — and sometimes, in Jaś’s case, to whole new ways of seeing.
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