Living With Nexus: On the Dial, Between Intentions

Introduction

From the very beginning, Hitori has treated the dial as more than a surface. It has always been the first place where emotion, season, and place come together. Long before the Nexus, our watches carried subtle references to Japan’s changing landscapes, drawn from moments that are often overlooked rather than declared. The dial is where those moments are distilled, where nature is not illustrated, but felt. With the Nexus, this philosophy continues, though with a quieter confidence and a deeper sense of intention.

It is often noted that our approach shares a lineage with Grand Seiko, and that observation is not misplaced. They remain exemplary in how nature can be translated into something you live with daily, textures and patterns refined to a level that rewards close attention. That influence shaped our early understanding of what a dial could be. But we did not stop there. Where some expressions of nature lean toward restraint that risks becoming familiar or even monotonous over time, we felt compelled to move further. Hitori’s path has been to introduce nature through materials, structure, and artistry that carry more variation and human presence. The Nexus Hanaasagi and Shirakawa are a clear testament to that evolution.

In this chapter, I want to focus specifically on these two dials. Both take their cues from the calm waters of Yanagawa’s canals in Fukuoka, the same prefecture that informed the Nexus case profile. Their surfaces flow with a quiet rhythm, echoing the slow passage of a donkobune drifting past weathered wooden buildings. Finished with a soft satin sheen, the dials respond gently to light. Hanaasagi draws from a traditional Japanese colour, a floral tone layered over asagi blue-green, long used in textiles, resulting in a surface that feels serene yet alive. Shirakawa, by contrast, adopts a silver-white tone reminiscent of canal waters in winter or early morning, pristine, grounded, and timeless. Each dial carries its own character, yet both reward patience and attention, revealing their depth gradually, in the same way the Nexus itself is meant to be lived with.

The Quiet Flow of Yanagawa

I find myself returning to Yanagawa often, sometimes with intention, other times simply because it feels right. It is a place I visit with my family to slow down, to sit within its stillness and let the surroundings do their quiet work. Between meals and cafés, and Yanagawa has its own quietly excellent dining culture, especially if you love unagi, I often take long walks along its iconic canals. The pace here is unhurried. Life unfolds gently, framed by wooden houses, stone bridges, and water that has carried daily life for centuries.

At times, we board a donkobune, the traditional flat bottom wooden boat guided by a boatman using a long bamboo pole. These canal cruises are a living part of Yanagawa’s heritage, once essential for transport and now preserved as a quiet ritual. As the boat glides forward, there is no engine noise, only the soft sound of water parting and bamboo meeting the canal floor. From this perspective, the town reveals itself slowly. The canals are always calm, carrying an adequate depth that feels reassuring rather than fragile. They are neither shallow nor dramatic, but measured. Each section offers a slightly different serenity. Some stretches feel enclosed and introspective, others open and expansive. The water ebbs and flows gently, never rushing, never still.

Yanagawa itself was once a castle town, its extensive canal system forming both a defensive network and a lifeline for trade and daily living. Over time, these waterways shifted from necessity to presence, becoming part of the town’s identity rather than infrastructure. What remains today is a rare sense of continuity, where heritage is not staged, but lived. The canals are maintained with care, the rhythm of life shaped quietly around them. Being there allows me to decompress in a way few places do. Thoughts slow. Feelings settle. In that space, ideas surface without force, and my appreciation for Japanese culture deepens not through spectacle, but through familiarity.

It was during this period, while we were shaping the architectural case of the Nexus, that I found myself searching for something to balance its avant garde silhouette. The layered form needed a counterpoint, something softer, more organic, a surface that could bring calm to structure. Around that time, the Grand Seiko SLGA025G Atera Valley came to mind, a watch whose dial draws inspiration from the clear blue green river running through the Atera Valley. It reminded me how powerfully the motions of water, when translated thoughtfully, can anchor even the most modern forms. That was the moment it clicked. Not as a reference to replicate, but as a reminder of what was possible.

If you have spent time in Japan, you will understand this instinctively. So much of its beauty lies in rivers and their ever flowing rhythm, framed by forests, mountains, historic minka, or quiet ryokan tucked into the fabric of everyday cities. Everything feels harmonised rather than designed. That belief stayed with me as we developed the Nexus dials. Rather than translating Yanagawa’s canals into a literal pattern, we focused on their rhythm. The surface carries a gentle, horizontal flow that never repeats itself, allowing light to move across the dial in the same unhurried way water moves through Yanagawa. Under a soft satin finish, the texture appears and disappears with movement, never insisting on attention. Like the town itself, it reveals its depth only when you slow down enough to notice it.

Giving Form to the River’s Rhythm

The river flowing texture of the Nexus dial was shaped around a simple tension. It had to feel calm, yet never static. Ever flowing, yet composed. We wanted the surface to hold a sense of quiet movement without slipping into something flat or ornamental. Calm, but not dead. Restrained, yet unmistakably present. As much as the Nexus places emphasis on its architectural case and bracelet, we never wanted the dial to feel secondary. Balance mattered. The dial had to carry its own weight, its own depth, and its own sense of premium craft. That responsibility is something we take seriously, and one we know we are capable of executing.

To recreate the ebb and flow of Yanagawa’s canals, we turned to a hands on, tool driven process rather than a single stamped solution. Different instruments were used to work the surface directly, allowing us to control how each stroke moved across the dial. This approach was not unfamiliar territory. Our earlier explorations in the Yoshino and Meguro GMT collections had already taught us how sensitive texture can be to light, scale, and proportion. For the Nexus, we pushed further. The goal was not just to create texture, but to capture rhythm, the slow, uneven movement of water that never truly repeats itself.

This stage alone demanded as much time and consideration as the development of the layered case structure. Over a span of six months, we produced four separate dial prototypes, each exploring different expressions of flow, depth, and restraint. Through countless discussions and revisions, we gradually arrived at a pattern that felt right. Not overly expressive, not overly controlled. Once that base texture was finalised, the next phase began, colour.

An important detail worth noting is that Hanaasagi 花浅葱 and Shirakawa 白川 do not share the same river flow texture. Each dial was treated independently. For Hanaasagi, we wanted to express a season where movement is more visible. The deeper tone allowed the flowing texture to surface more clearly, letting light trace the strokes as the wrist moves. The result feels more dynamic, with the texture revealing itself in shifting layers beneath the colour. Shirakawa, by contrast, called for a different approach. Its lighter, winter inspired tone risked softening the texture too much if treated the same way. To counter this, we refined the flow into a gentler expression while increasing its density, ensuring the depth remained perceptible beneath the pale surface. The texture is quieter, but more concentrated, revealing itself slowly as light changes, much like water seen in early morning or winter stillness.

Together, these two dials reflect different moments of the same river. One shaped by motion, the other by stillness. Both rooted in the same place, and both designed to reward time, attention, and wear rather than immediate impression.

Hanaasagi 花浅葱

“A surface shaped by movement, and light”

We begin with the name itself. Hanaasagi takes its cue from a traditional Japanese colour that sits between floral softness and blue green depth, a tone historically found in textiles and everyday objects rather than ornament. It carries a familiarity that feels lived in, calm yet expressive. Reaching the final colour and gradient was not immediate. It took several rounds of prototyping to understand how this tone should live on the dial, how it should shift under light, and how it could remain nuanced without becoming subdued.

On the Nexus dial, Hanaasagi is not applied as a flat statement. The colour is layered and allowed to breathe alongside the expression of moving water. Through repeated experimentation and returning to the drawing board, we arrived at a surface that felt right. One that recalls the quiet movement of Yanagawa’s canals, where reflections drift slowly and never repeat themselves. Finished with a soft satin sheen, the dial responds gently to light. At times it appears calm and composed, yet never muted. At other moments, a subtle vibrancy emerges, giving the surface a sense of life without excess.

To further enhance depth, a graduated fumé treatment was introduced, deepening the tone toward the periphery of the dial. This transition mirrors the darker stretches of the river where sunlight fades, creating contrast against the more illuminated centre. The effect is natural rather than dramatic, adding dimension while maintaining balance across the surface.

What defines Hanaasagi is restraint without stillness. The texture does not shout or demand attention, nor does it rely on sharp contrast or overt transitions. Instead, it invites the eye to linger, comfortably and unhurried. Over time, the dial becomes less about colour and more about rhythm, how the surface shifts as the wrist moves, how light glides across it rather than reflecting sharply. It is a dial that feels composed, yet never static, echoing the quiet beauty of nature observed rather than interpreted.

Shirakawa 白川

“Stillness as a form of depth”

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/56958d_8bea28ab954b4b508dde3bcbb19f84cf/480p/mp4/file.mp4

Shirakawa approaches the dial from a different emotional register. Its silver white tone recalls canal water in winter or early morning, when light is diffused and surfaces feel calm, almost suspended. We intentionally selected a classic snow white hue finished with a softer, more matte surface, much like what we explored previously in the Yoshino and Meguro GMT collections. This choice was rooted in personal experience, reflecting the clarity and quiet presence of snow in Japan, where brightness feels gentle rather than reflective.

There is a sense of timelessness here, grounded in simplicity rather than austerity. The river flowing texture remains present, but subdued, allowing the dial to respond delicately to changing light without drawing attention to itself. Instead of contrast or sharp highlights, the surface relies on depth and softness, revealing its character gradually as the wrist moves.

Rather than feeling minimal, Shirakawa feels resolved. The dial holds a quiet confidence and sense of peace, revealing itself through use rather than inspection, while serving as a calm foundation for the surrounding dial elements, which I will touch on shortly. As the day progresses, the surface transitions naturally from cool and crisp to warm and muted, reflecting its environment rather than asserting its own presence. It is this adaptability, this ability to remain composed across different moments, that gives Shirakawa its enduring appeal. Like the canals that inspired it, its beauty lies not in change, but in constancy.

Where Time Finds Its Form

As with most things at Hitori, this is an understated design that reveals its value with time and attention. For the Nexus, we chose to revisit the hour markers first introduced in our Somei Yoshino collection, not as an act of repetition, but as a continuation of an idea. Even in the smallest functional elements, we believe craftsmanship should be felt, not announced. These indices exist to serve the dial, yet carry a quiet presence of their own.

The finer details emerge gradually, beginning with the applied hour markers. Each faceted block has been refined from its earlier Yoshino iteration, now sharper and more deliberate, reflecting our ongoing pursuit of precision and quality. During the cutting and polishing process, each index is handled individually, with time taken to perfect every surface. Each marker is formed from more than three distinct planes, all of which demand dexterity and control to execute properly.

Once set on the dial, the indices begin to interact with light. Each index is intricately cut and polished, resulting in a subtle, glimmering glow that reveals an almost rainbow like reflection. This effect appears quietly, echoing a sense of elegance and refinement rather than spectacle. It does not require strong light to reveal itself, a result of the precision and care applied throughout the finishing process. Mirror polished inner faces and sidewalls contrast with the soft satin finishing on the remaining surfaces, creating gentle shifts in tone as the wrist moves. When the polished planes fall into shadow, the brushed facets quietly come forward, ensuring the dial remains alive without becoming distracting.

At three o’clock, the date display is framed with a polished metal surround, paired intentionally with a shortened hour marker to preserve visual balance. It is a small adjustment, easily overlooked, yet essential to the harmony of the composition. Details like this reflect our approach to design, where nothing exists without reason, and every element plays its part within the whole.

 Sashi Yari: Strength in Gentle Motion

We now move to the bold Sashi Yari hands. By now, some of you may have noticed my long standing affinity for Japanese native culture and the objects that emerge from it, objects shaped by necessity, refined by time, and executed with care that feels almost instinctive. Alongside this, years spent immersed in horology have given me a deep appreciation for handset design. I admire classics such as Mercedes, Breguet, and sword shaped hands, but what has always felt more personal to me are spear and arrow forms, designs that appear less frequently and are often reserved for the more experimental corners of independent watchmaking. With the Nexus, I wanted to create a handset that felt true to that instinct, one that could carry the spirit of the watch without overpowering it. Through refinement and iteration, the Sashi Yari openworked hands came into being.

Inspired by the form of bamboo leaf shaped blades found throughout traditional Japan, and informed by my appreciation for spear like hands, the Sashi Yari design carries a quiet tension in its symmetry and taper. The hands feel decisive yet restrained, sharp in form but calm in presence. They are meant to move with intention, not urgency, harmonising with the architectural language of the Nexus rather than competing with it.

Each hand is finished entirely by hand, using a deliberately demanding process. First, the hour and minute hands are carefully cut and polished into shape. They are then sandblasted to achieve a soft, matte, almost glittering surface. From there, the most delicate step begins. One half of each hand is individually mirror polished, requiring absolute precision and concentration. Any misstep at this stage cannot be corrected. The hand must be discarded and the process restarted from the beginning. It is a slow and exacting method, but one that gives the Sashi Yari hands their distinct character. The seconds hand takes on a more needle like form, and for Shirakawa 白川, it is finished in a glossy blue, offering a quiet contrast against the winter white dial.

Subtle cutouts at the tips or tails introduce lightness and intention, echoing the architectural cutouts found throughout the case, lugs, and bracelet. These openings allow the hands to move in quiet concert with the dial, aligning cleanly with each marker and reinforcing the sense of balance across the surface.

Length and proportion were considered just as carefully. Each hand is sized precisely to meet its intended reference points, the hour markers and minute track, without excess or hesitation. Nothing feels forced. Nothing feels out of place. The result is a reading of time that feels clear and composed, deliberate yet calm, allowing motion to exist without disturbance.

Final Thoughts

Looking back at the Nexus dial, I do not think of it as a finished object in its final formed. I think of it as something still in motion as if like water, light, and like time itself. The choices made here were never about creating immediate and apparent impact, but about allowing space. Space for texture and all other elements to breathe. Space for their colour to soften. Space for the wearer to arrive at their own understanding, slowly.

Hanaasagi and Shirakawa are not expressions meant to be compared. They exist side by side, much like different moments along the same river. One carries movement, and the other holds stillness. Neither seeks attention where both ask for time. Over days and weeks of wear, their characters becomes less about surface and more about familiarity, about how they settle into life without interrupting it.

This is how I continue to think about design. Not as something to be explained, but something to be lived with. Each dial does not try to tell a story as it simply holds one. If it disappears at times, don’t be surprised as that is intentional. If it reveals itself unexpectedly, that is enough. Like Yanagawa, like many things in Japan that endure quietly, its value is not found in display, but in presence.

Let it sit. Let it move only when it needs to. With time, it will reveal what it is meant to be. That is the reflection I hope every Hitori watch carries.

—

Craft Dialogues, No. 03