By Brent Robillard
The last time we visited Alexandre Beauregard in his Montréal atelier, he was assembling the first dials. This past weekend at the Toronto Timepiece Show, I finally had the completed Ulysse Saint-Pétersbourg in my hands. There is something especially satisfying about that progression. You remember the workbench, the pieces, and the person trying to bring it all together. Then, months later, you get to put the result on your wrist—or, in front of your lens.
Toronto’s first Artisanal Horology Lounge made a fitting setting. Bradley Taylor, J.N. Shapiro, and Grönefeld were among the names represented, alongside accessories maker Charles Simon. There was plenty to occupy a camera. Even in that company, Beauregard’s second collaboration with Vianney Halter occupied a space very much its own.
Part of that comes down to how Beauregard approaches a watch. He is a lapidary artist first. Shaping stone is central to the way he thinks, and the Ulysse gives that work an unusually generous amount of freedom. Looking at the Saint-Pétersbourg, you can’t help but come back to a simple thought: imagine trying to make this dial fit the conventions of an ordinary watch.
But, together, he had Halter aren’t just breaking the rules—they are changing them.
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From the outside in
We explored Beauregard’s background in our recent atelier profile. His route into watchmaking involved teaching himself design software, finding collaborators, and learning lapidary work under Yves St-Pierre. It helps explain his willingness to ask awkward questions of a familiar object. A dial can have depth, curves, and a centre that the hands leave alone. Working out how it will tell the time becomes part of the creative process.
There are connections elsewhere in independent watchmaking—particularly in jewellery-led watchmaking. Van Cleef & Arpels’ Heures Florales and Jacob & Co.’s Fleurs de Jardin come to mind, both giving flowers a mechanical life of their own. Cédric Johner offers another connection through the jeweller’s skills he brings to watchmaking. Each helps explain part of Beauregard’s appeal.
However, while those comparisons help place Beauregard in the conversation, none quite describes what is happening here. What holds my attention here is Beauregard’s direct involvement with the stone: carving the forms, finding their place in the composition, and working with Halter to give the hands room to move around them. I also have the impression, when looking at the Ulysse, that I am seeing stone as form and not simply as decoration.
The Ulysse Saint-Pétersbourg
The Saint-Pétersbourg takes its inspiration from Fabergé and the jewellery associated with the Imperial Russian court. You can see the attraction. Rose gold traces a floral pattern through rock crystal, amethyst, Fanta opal, fire opal, topaz, yellow opal, and peridot. The stones are individually carved and fitted by hand in Montréal. Each has to work as a small object in its own right and as part of the larger composition.
It is wonderfully extravagant. The colour moves through the dial in little pockets, held together by those fine gold outlines. Beneath the stones, mother-of-pearl returns light through the composition. That detail helps explain the impression I had while handling it: like the original Ulysse Aqua, the Saint-Pétersbourg seems to give off light. You know it cannot, of course. But your eyes take a little convincing.
The family resemblance is unmistakable, yet the two watches have very different temperaments. The Aqua has a clarity that pulls everything towards its central sun. There is force in those carved waves, and my eye wants to follow them inward. The Saint-Pétersbourg sends it wandering. A curve here, another colour there, then a small floral detail that asks for a closer look.
Its lines have an Art Nouveau fluidity to them. There is a sense of delicacy, too, despite all that colour and gold. The Aqua feels elemental. The Saint-Pétersbourg offers the expanse of something more elaborate. Both are recognisably Beauregard.
The mechanics make room for all of this. The hour and minute hands are carried by two discs driven through internal peripheral gearing. Halter’s contribution enables the composition Alexandre wanted to manifest.
Vianney Halter
The same interest in keeping things visible continues around the back. Halter’s mysterious winding system connects the rotor’s peripheral weight to its centre through transparent sapphire. Much of the support effectively disappears, opening the view onto the movement. The automatic calibre runs at 21,600 vibrations per hour and offers a 56-hour power reserve, with hand-finished bridges and wheels and 30 clear sapphire jewels.
The winding mass carries both collaborators’ names, along with “Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat”: all wound; the last kills. The hours, that is. It is a rather sombre thought to find behind such a cheerful dial, and an effective little reminder to enjoy the thing while you can.
For all its visual ambition, the case measures a fairly approachable 41 mm across and 9.35 mm thick. It is 18k rose gold, with an anti-reflective domed sapphire crystal and a peridot in the crown. A stitchless chestnut alligator strap and rose gold pin buckle complete it. Water resistance is 30 metres. Introduced during Geneva Watch Days, the Saint-Pétersbourg is limited to ten pieces.
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Final Thoughts
Some of the growing attention around Beauregard deserves a little perspective. The Saint-Pétersbourg is the second Ulysse, a collection marketed towards men. I suspect that positioning has encouraged some collectors to look more closely. The artistry was already there. If the Ulysse brings more people to it, wonderful. Flowers, carved gemstones, and colour have plenty to offer any wrist.
What stayed with me in Toronto was the connection to that earlier afternoon in Montréal. I had seen Alexandre working towards a finished watch; now I could handle it and photograph the result. The Saint-Pétersbourg makes a convincing case for giving someone with a different set of skills room to explore. Here, a lapidary artist’s ideas have asked something unusual of watchmaking, and a watchmaker has helped make them possible. I am very glad I got to see where they landed.
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About the author
Brent Robillard is a writer, educator, craftsman, and watch enthusiast. He is the author of four novels. You can follow him on Instagram.
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