Bernardo d’Orey: from Patek Philippe to Lisbon, with straw marquetry as an artistic language.
- Nuno Margalha

- 16 hours ago
- 7 min read
Straw marquetry is a rare, extremely delicate technique that is practically unknown to the general public. Traditionally associated with decorative arts and furniture, it has recently found a new territory of expression in contemporary watchmaking through the work of Bernardo d'Orey.

Recently established in Portugal, Bernardo develops work deeply connected to light, color, and the visual transformation of matter. In his marquetry workshop in Avenidas Novas, Lisbon, we talked at length about his journey, the philosophy of craftsmanship, contemporary watchmaking, and what he truly seeks when creating a watch dial.

The space where he works precisely reflects this approach: a place entirely dedicated to the making, without artifice or staging. Without hesitation and without hiding the process, he gets down to work to explain how he works and how he builds his dials. Bernardo remains hunched over the table for short, intense periods — “like someone holding their breath,” he describes — in absolute concentration on tiny gestures and fragile materials. Looking around, it becomes inevitable to think about the infinite possible combinations of shapes, textures, and colors; after all, these are the elements that continue to define, to a large extent, the visual identity of contemporary mechanical watchmaking.
Here is the transcript of our conversation with Bernardo, equally without secrets or filters:

How did your journey begin that led you to straw marquetry?
My journey began far from watchmaking. I first worked in the hotel industry and later entered the world of luxury and rare objects. It was during this time that I worked at Louis Vuitton and, subsequently, also at Patek Philippe, very important experiences because they allowed me to better understand the emotional connection that people create with special objects.
Later I also worked in the antique jewelry trade and developed a growing interest in decorative arts and handicrafts. Straw marquetry appeared in this process almost as a natural discovery and ended up becoming the centerpiece of my work.
What fascinated you about this technique?
Ultimately, what fascinates me about straw marquetry is starting with an extremely poor raw material — rye straw — and transforming it into a noble material.
There's almost an alchemical dimension to this process. I feel a bit like an alchemist transforming humble matter into precious material.
But what truly interests me is not so much the drawing itself. What fascinates me is the shine, the color, and the perception of the material.
I like to work with straw in a way that creates almost the illusion of another surface, another texture, another depth.

Light seems to play a central role in your work.
Absolutely. Light is essential.
Straw naturally possesses what I call a silicon varnish, which gives it this very particular shine. I don't apply any varnish on top of the straw. The shine is already there naturally.
That's why I'm constantly checking the work under different lighting conditions. I work with a microscope, with white light, with yellow light, but I continually get up to go to the window to observe the result in natural light.
It is light that gives life to the work.
Are there any references in watchmaking that have particularly inspired you?
I am a great admirer of Kari Voutilainen.
Interestingly, what impresses me most about his watches isn't just the mechanism. It's primarily the dial. The way he works with light on the dials deeply fascinates me.
I engage with the clockwork concept largely through visual emotion. And that's precisely what I try to create through straw marquetry.
Does the technique become more difficult when applied to watchmaking?
Much more difficult.
Straw is an extremely delicate and organic material. The smaller the surface area, the smaller the margin for error. On a watch face, I often work with tolerances below one-tenth of a millimeter.
Each fiber has to be placed in exactly the right spot. And any mistake can compromise hours of work.
Furthermore, it requires an enormous amount of concentration.

I often say that I work almost "in apnea".
I can't work for two hours straight. I work in blocks of half an hour or forty-five minutes, and then I need to stop, breathe, and look around to see if everything is still balanced.
There comes a point when we simply stop seeing the mistakes.

Is there room for improvisation?
Yes, quite a lot.
I always start with an initial idea, but I leave a lot of room for what the material itself suggests to me. Each straw is different. There are spots, nuances, small irregularities, and variations in color.
What might seem like a flaw can become a strength depending on how it's integrated into the whole. And that's precisely where improvisation comes in.
Is there any particularly difficult step?
All stages are extremely delicate.
Open the straw, flatten it, cut it, glue it, then apply the whole thing to the dial… any move can ruin everything that was done before.
But that doesn't frustrate me. On the contrary. What motivates me is precisely the feeling that I can still do better.
I hope I never lose that feeling. I think any craftsman experiences this. Like a pianist who goes on stage after fifty years of career and still feels nervous before playing.
This fragility gives me the energy to continue.
How do you see the role of métiers d'art in contemporary watchmaking?
I have a very particular view of contemporary watchmaking. I think that, from a purely mechanical point of view, almost everything has already been invented.
Of course, innovation will always continue, but today there is a virtually infinite field to explore in the artistic dimension of the watch: decoration, dials, finishes, visual identity.
The watch has long ceased to be merely a utilitarian instrument. It has become an artistic, emotional object, almost a jewel.
And that's precisely where métiers d'art can make all the difference.
Do you think there is a real appreciation for handicrafts today?
I think so, more and more so.
We live in a profoundly mass-produced world. And precisely for this reason, the desire to possess something rare, human, and unique is growing.
People want to own a watch that no one else has. They want to know the history of the object, understand who made it, what that person's motivations were, what the philosophy behind the work is.
And that's where the artisan can make a difference.
How did your collaborations with watch brands come about?
The collaboration with Isotope Watches arose very spontaneously through a contact linked to the Portuguese Watchmaking Institute.
My collaboration with Louis Erard stemmed from my own initiative. I contacted them, showed them my work, and we began a long process of discussion and development.
I have also developed other projects outside of watchmaking, including jewelry and sculptural work.
Is there any particularly noteworthy project?
The dial I created to celebrate the Year of the Snake was probably the most complex project I've ever done.
There were over two hundred small triangles, each about two millimeters in size, applied individually. I knew it would be extremely difficult, but I managed to complete the project thanks also to the advice of Rose Saneuil, who played a very important role in the process.
Is there any particular job that you feel represents what you do especially well?
I really like classic patterns like checks or chevrons because, when well executed, they have enormous visual impact.
But there are two works that perhaps best represent what I'm looking for right now. One is called Bubbles , inspired by air bubbles. The other is Broken Ice , which seeks to reproduce the sensation of a cracked ice slab.
This type of work allows me to explore color mixtures, depth, and subtle gradations of light, which are precisely the things that interest me most.
You recently moved to Portugal. Does that influence your work?
Very.
I came primarily for family reasons, but I feel deeply happy to be in Portugal. There's a very special energy here.
I have the feeling that there is finally a growing awareness of the quality of Portuguese artisans and the enormous creative potential that exists in the country.
For a long time, Portugal failed to communicate the quality of its work. Today, that is beginning to change.
Do you think Portugal can become a relevant ecosystem linked to independent watchmaking and métiers d'art ?
I think so. Portugal's biggest problem has always been primarily a marketing problem.
We tend to undervalue ourselves. But the international perception of the country has changed a lot in recent years. Today there is recognition for the quality of work, creativity and technical skills.
The important thing now is to prevent Portugal from being seen only as a cheap country. The objective should be to assert its quality.
What would you still like to explore in the future?
I would like to continue to delve deeper into what I do today.
There's a technique I've developed that I call "dragon scales," which I'd very much like to continue exploring, especially as applied to watchmaking. It's technically very challenging because it involves a certain thickness, but it has enormous visual potential.
I would also like to explore combinations with gold leaf and other surfaces.

What interests you more at this moment: technical complexity or visual emotion?
Visual emotion.
I achieve technical complexity through visual emotion. My motivation is always to create something that evokes emotion.
That's what drives me.
How do you imagine the future of métiers d'art in watchmaking?
I think we'll see more and more independent artisans collaborating with brands on a case-by-case basis.
There may be some cases of more permanent collaboration, but what I see in the best artisans is precisely this ability to work with different brands and different visual languages without losing their own identity.
Do you think the public is aware of the time and effort required to create these pieces?
Not quite yet.
Many of these professions remain unknown. People don't realize the level of precision required, the time involved, or the delicacy of the process.
But it is also up to the artisans and brands to better communicate this work and explain what makes these pieces special.
Do you prefer creating a few very special pieces or producing them more regularly?
I clearly prefer fewer special pieces.
This allows me to create a different emotion in each piece. It also allows me to maintain a much closer relationship with what I'm doing.
How would you like someone to feel when they pick up a watch with your face on it?
I'd like the reaction to be simply: "wow".
That the person would want to keep moving the watch to see the reflections, the play of light, and the changes in color.
Ultimately, what truly excites you about the act of creating?
To create something beautiful.

I think that's what it all comes down to in the end: trying to add a little beauty to the world.















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