I check the time roughly forty times a day, and I couldn’t tell you what any of those glances felt like. A phone screen lights up, a number flashes, and I move on before the information even registers. That’s the strange thing about how we live with time now: we have more ways than ever to know what hour it is, and less reason than ever to actually notice it. Digital displays don’t ask anything of us. They just report, and we absorb, and nothing about the moment sticks.
That’s the gap a new piece from Istanbul studio Omora Lusso seems built to close. Instead of showing the hour as flat information, it makes you wait for it, watch for it, and experience it as something closer to a small performance than a readout. The studio calls it Muvaqqit 60, and as the press materials put it, it’s a 60-centimetre kinetic time artwork that transforms the reading of time into a recurring physical ritual.
Designer: Omora Lusso
The name itself carries weight before the mechanism even moves. Muvaqqit takes its name from the historical timekeeper responsible for determining and regulating time through astronomy and exact observation, and in Ottoman cities, muvakkithanes were dedicated timekeeping rooms, often associated with mosque complexes, where prayer times were calculated and astronomical knowledge was practised. I appreciate that Omora Lusso didn’t try to costume this piece in false antiquity. The studio does not reproduce the instruments or forms of these spaces; instead, it reinterprets their culture of precision, contemplation and measured time through contemporary kinetic design. That distinction matters. It would have been easy, and a little lazy, to slap old astronomical symbols onto a modern object and call it heritage. This is a harder, more honest route: borrowing the spirit of a tradition rather than its skin.
The piece itself only reveals what it can do once a minute, and that restraint is the whole point. Once each minute, Muvaqqit performs a time-indication sequence: a comet-like progression of light moves through its layered scales as a mirror-silvered kinetic bird rises into position, while the hour, five-minute interval and minute increment are read across three curved scales, with an AM/PM display and an illuminated moon-phase arc completing the temporal composition. The rest of the time, it stays quiet on purpose. Between these moments, the work remains visually restrained, allowing anticipation to become part of the experience. There’s a kind of confidence in a product that chooses to stay dark and still for fifty-nine seconds just so the sixtieth means something. Most gadgets are terrified of silence. This one leans into it.
Omer Fatih Sevinctekin, the studio’s founder, frames the whole project as a question rather than a solution, which I found refreshing given how many product launches arrive dressed as answers. He describes it as beginning with the question of whether time can be experienced as a ritual rather than simply read as information, wanting the work to connect Istanbul’s culture of precise timekeeping with a contemporary language of motion, light and material.
Materially, the Noir Silver edition plays a straightforward but effective contrast game. It pairs a soft-black metal frame and anthracite inner dial with a hand-polished, mirror-silvered brass bird, presented behind a four-millimetre glass front, with a controlled palette designed to sharpen the contrast between stillness and movement, and between the dark architectural body and the brief illumination of the time ritual. Nothing about it is loud until the moment it needs to be.
This isn’t a mass object, and it was never going to be. Muvaqqit 60 Noir Silver is limited to 50 pieces worldwide, offered at USD 6,000, with each work produced in Istanbul and accompanied by a Certificate of Authenticity, a dedicated wooden presentation case, art-handling gloves and operating materials. That price and scarcity will keep it out of most homes, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But the idea underneath it, that time deserves a moment of attention instead of a passing glance, doesn’t require owning the object to land. The studio’s broader collection treats time not as a static reading but as an event, a sequence that can be anticipated, observed and remembered, and that’s a quietly radical stance in a culture that mostly wants its information delivered instantly and forgotten just as fast.
