Kimá · Watch Face

Kimá measures the day the way Jewish tradition measures it: not in sixty-minute hours, but in proportional hours — twelve of day and twelve of night, stretching and shrinking with the sun where you are.

The ring of twenty-four cells carries its Hebrew letter. The twelve night hours in blue, the twelve day hours in gold, and the half that isn't running rests, slightly dimmed. The current hour lights up, and at the tip of the hand the reigning body — the sun by day, the moon by night — points to it.

The moon is the one in the sky, not the one on the calendar: computed from the moment, with a real terminator, and it tells waxing from waning. South of the equator you see it the way you see it there, mirrored.

Between shkiah and tzeit the sky turns to its in-between colour and the three stars come out one at a time: the second doesn't start until the first is whole. When the third one finishes, the Jewish day is over.

Four sub-dials: the tefillah of this moment, the moon of the Hebrew month, the bearing to the Kotel by great circle, and the door to My Jewish Day. Below, the civil time and the Hebrew date, which turns at nightfall.

In the night sky there is Kimah — the Pleiades, "can you bind the cluster of Kimah?" (Job 38:31). That's where the name comes from.

On the always-on screen what remains is the letters, the hour that's running and the astral body: what you read without touching the watch.

REQUIRES the app Kimá Jewish Lunar-Solar Clock installed on the watch — the zmanim, the proportional hour and the Hebrew date come from it. Without it the watch face is still a readable clock, but without its data.