This fantastic piece, produced in the late 1960s, is a Heuer Autavia Chronograph 2446.  I was fortunate enough to inherit this piece from my late father, who inherited it from his own father in 1980.  Many will not recognize the brand, and that stands to reason, given that it no longer exists.  The Heuer Watch Company was started by Edouard Heuer in 1860 & over a century later merged with the TAG group (Techniques d'Avant Garde Group) in the mid 1980s.  While the current TAG Heuer company is certainly a respectable and important watch maker, it is the classic Heuers (pre the merge with TAG) that are truly collectable among watch collectors, as they retain the original aesthetic and styling of the origin brand.   

The 2446 is a stunningly beautiful watch that could probably serve any occasion.  One could easily wear such a piece on a daily basis or with a suit/tuxedo (especially with the steel bracelet).  It was originally created to serve either a pilot or a diver & as such was sold with either a stainless steel Gay Freres "beads-of-rice" bracelet (for the diver) or with a leather rally band (for the pilot).  The Heuer watch company was renowned for its involvement in racing & timing events (including aviation speed testing), and took pride in their watches being considered accurate enough to serve European & American racers.  Thus, the name "Autavia" is an acronym for "Automobile" & "Aviation".   Autavias are exceedingly rare watches; odds are that if you see one on the street somewhere, it belongs to a vintage watch enthusiast.    

She's A Rainbow

Michael Canetti's work could not easily be classified, it resides somewhere between abstract, modern, and impressionistic.  To depict the female form is to tackle a fairly complicated problem, many artists try & fail.  The process of capturing a woman in art, is to capture not only the physical characteristics that compose the fairer sex, but also to faithfully represent the female essence.  

It is far too simple to clutter female art with an overuse of sexual imagery.  Many artists find it necessary to depict the sexual appeal of women by using light & shadow, focusing on highly detailed expressions, or utilizing explicit exposure.  Despite efforts, such an approach is conducive to the opposite of the intended effect; hyper-sexuality and a tendency towards the dramatic ultimately lead to an overly masculine representation of women.  After all, the sex appeal of a real woman is rarely blatant and overly exposed but rather found in the subtleties; the way light seems to form a halo around a beautiful girl, the soft movement of long locks across a nude back, or even the gentle grasp of a female hand around a glass of wine.  The biology of women may be accurately depicted in such work, but the more delicate side of women-the grace & finesse the opposite sex seem to exude, is forgotten. 

Canetti picks up where most have failed and exudes unparalleled originality and beauty.  His art is whimsical and full of bright color, devoid of overly complex structure and instead leaves more to the imagination.  Canetti fully realizes the secret of great art; the viewer's mind.  An artist's most powerful tool is the imagination of his viewer and Canetti capitalizes here.  He gives us just enough to get our creative juices flowing and then gracefully exits.  His minimalist approach utilizes the power of form, especially through the contrast between curvature and linearity.  Canetti's women are undoubtedly sexy, even erotic, but never pornographic.  The art is light and playful, never serious or hard edged, and depicts the sexual allure of women not through the use of high contrast or sharp focus but rather via abstraction.  Thus, Canetti's chosen medium comes as no surprise; only watercolors could faithfully portray such an ethereal subject matter.

Canetti's work, while modern in classification, is far from anything typical of today's art scene-especially in regards to the depiction of women.  His work is more grounded in the 1960s and his use of colors is reminiscent of the Washington Color School movement.  I could not help but be reminded of artists like  Morris Louis & Piero Dorazio while studying Canetti's color palette.  Canetti's blend of color, form, and  abstract propensity culminate in genius-an almost mythical representation of sexuality and women.  A kaleidoscope of color, form, and sensuality...Michel Canetti.  

My Father's Watch

There is a time in every boy's life where he feels a yearning to mimic everything his father does.  No decision or choice can possibly be wrong if he follows in his old man's footsteps.  As the boy grows older he becomes his own man, forms his own opinions on the world around him, and eventually no longer feels a need to follow in his father's wake.  Somethings, however, never change.  I would dare you to find a single man on this planet that does not, even in the smallest way, mimic his father's actions.  Whether it be a certain gesture, a way of speaking, handling money, or a lifestyle choice, our fathers seem destined to rub off on us in one way or another, for better or for worse.  

Growing up in a divorced household meant I did not see my father all too often, but when I did I paid close attention to him.  It seemed important to me get to know the parent that I spent less time with, to truly value every second of interaction and to learn his nuances.  I watched carefully, always from a distance, eager to understand what composed my father.  My father was an interesting man, certainly peculiar, but also highly methodical and efficient.  He lived by a certain set of rules which most other men, including myself, would have found too stringent and impossible to follow.  These rules governed everything from his dress code to his outlook on personal economics.  My father's perspective on life was that time is the most valuable thing a person has, more than money or possessions, one's time is the greatest commodity.  His endeavors and the strict rules he lived by seemed always to link back to this outlook and always served the same purpose, to save time. 

 To a man whose time was so important to him, it came as no surprise that my father wore a watch every day of his life.  He had a small collection of watches, pieces that he found interesting or had picked up over the years.  But out of all his watches, my father remained loyal only to one and it was rare the day that I ever saw it off his wrist.  It was a 1978 1680 Rolex Submariner that he had inherited from his late father.  Children have a tendency to latch on to the same tangible objects that they see their parents infatuated with.  For me, my father's watch represented a detailed record of my father and what composed his most important concern in life, time.  I would often admire the watch on my father's wrist, always doing my best to not let my eagerness to inspect it become noticeable.  My father was a fairly judgmental man and I did not want him to think I was envious of one of his most sacred possessions.  The watch itself was beautiful, a perfect blend of masculinity, utilitarianism, & elegance.  The design of the dial and the almost excessive use of text always made me think the watch had some importance greater than timekeeping.  I remember as a young boy, thinking the watch must serve some other purpose, it looked far too solid & important to simply be just a watch.  I had not yet learned the mark of true quality, and was too young to understand that what I was looking at was a fine timekeeping instrument, made by one of the best watch manufacturers in the world.  

Beyond my attraction to the watch's physical characteristics, I envied the bond the watch represented.  My father's Rolex Submariner clearly represented a tie between men of the same blood; a generational leap preserved between father & son.  On a few occasions I got up the nerve to ask to see the piece and my father was always willing.  Perhaps he knew that someday the watch would be mine and despite my all efforts, most likely had observed my desire for it.  I was always surprised by the weight of the watch, heavy and solid, unlike any other watch I had ever held.  Every conceivable detail was perfected; there were no flaws in its design.  I loved to press it up to my ear so that I could hear the mechanical ticks of the gears.  When my father explained to me the concept of a perpetual watch my transfixion grew only deeper.  He explained to me that a mechanical watch could never be as accurate as a Quartz watch, but would always be more elegant; a testament to the wonders of mechanical engineering and romantic in the sense that a perpetual watch relies on its wearer as much as the wearer relies on it. 

As I grew older, my desire for his watch never wavered.  I often daydreamed of my father giving it to me for my college graduation or perhaps as a wedding gift.  Unfortunately, my father was never able to gift me the watch (if he ever intended to), he passed away before I ever had the chance to graduate college or marry a woman.  The watch came into my ownership in the most bittersweet of ways; it was handed to me by his widow who knew fully well its symbolic meaning to me. 

There is not a day that I do not wear the piece and think of my father in doing so.  Every glance at the dial reminds me of my father's precious treatment of time and its preservation.  Just as his father before him, the watch slowly ticked away his life, and I suspect it will do the same for me.  I am the third man in my family to wear it, and if romanticism and idealism prevail, my son will be the fourth.