#schofield

[saturns-warrior]

color study with muted acrylics

#1917 (2019) #1917 art #1917 schofield #1917 fanart #1917 movie #1917 fandom #blakefield #schofield #acrylic #painting #color study

[frunbuns]

Fortesa Latifi, “The Truth About Grief”

#1917 #1917 (2019) #1917 movie #1917edit #1917 film #will schofield #william schofield #lance corporal schofield #schofield #tom blake #thomas blake #lance corporal blake #blakefield #ig #krysty wilson-cairns #Sam Mendes #film edit #mine

[schofieldshelmet]

mm...just thinking about the fact that Scho was already traumatized at the start of 1917. "You don't remember the Somme?" "Not really." but his face says otherwise, as does the wound stripe on his sleeve. he does his best to hide his fear, but it slips out anyway. the quick side glances he gives Blake when Erinmore says they'll be going into no man's land. the slightly panicked undertones as he says that maybe they should think about this. the horror that briefly flashes over his face when he sees the rotting corpse in the shell crater.

thinking about how he tries to be nonchalant about accidentally plunging his hand into the rotting carcass, but his voice and hands are shaking as he says "put it through an effing German." how when Blake steps into the German dugout, Scho stops and looks around and steels himself before he follows. how when they're inside, he pauses to stare at the picture left behind, and his face crumples because he is so far from home. then when the tripwire collapses the dugout, and for a moment there is nothing but the sound of Scho's muffled cries that seem to blend with sobs. He's panicking, buried, unable to breathe, and then his voice goes silent. Blake digs him up, and he's terrified, gasping, blindly following Blake. "I can't see-" and his voice is raw with terror.

thinking about how when they finally make it out, Scho stops and sits down and pours water over his eyes with hands that are visibly shaking. "I wish you'd picked some other bloody idiot," he says, angry, but inside he is just a scared, desperate child, missing home and fresh air and safety, the fear coming out as rage. thinking about how Blake tries to cheer him, and he says tersely that he's not in the mood. but in spite of himself, he laughs, letting the weight slide off his shoulders, because he made it through no man's land and the dugout and survived being buried alive. thinking about how he finally is raw and honest with Blake, spilling his emotions. how he hated going home. how his voice breaks and he pauses in a desperate attempt to control the tears before walking onward to collect himself.

and then the farmhouse. how he sees the doll with the cigarette burns on its eyes; it belonged to someone's child once. maybe that child is dead now. and he thinks of his girls and how it could be them and he says "I don't like this place." his tiny smile when he finds the milk, because he thinks of home and simple things. and then his mistrust around the German pilot. Blake wants to help but Scho's trauma runs too deep, his wariness won't let go, because he remembers blood on the grass and smoke in the air and he knows too much to be friendly. then the horror in his face, the way he doesn't hesitate to shoot down the pilot as Blake starts to scream.

how he tries to drag Blake to safety, but he is not strong enough and they both fall to the earth. how he desperately tries to help, how he looks around wracking his brain for solutions, for some way to save his best friend, perhaps his only friend. he's lost and scared on a mission he never had incentive to accomplish in the first place, and his figurative brother is bleeding out, pasty white, in his arms. "Am I dying?" and Scho pauses and then gently answers "Yes. Yes, I think you are," because deceit is not in his nature. Blake's blood coats his palms and fingers. the sky is gray and cold, and Scho cannot save him. he cannot do anything. he can only watch as Blake dies slowly, the life draining from his eyes. "I know the way," he says, and he is terrified, but he will not let Blake see.

and then how Blake goes still in his arms, and Scho rolls his lips together and does his best to keep it under control. how he tucks the photo of Blake and his family close to his heart, to keep with him even after death. how he tries desperately to drag Blake's corpse to a pleasanter resting place, but he cannot. how he is so broken, unable to process. shattered. he can hardly tear himself away from Blake's corpse when it is time to leave. he is not ready, he will never be ready. but he must.

thinking about how he climbs into the lorry and sits staring ahead like he is a statue carved from stone. the truck bumps over the road and he sways with it, surrounded by the casual chatter of strangers, trying not to break down. withdrawing into himself. empty and aching, unable to grieve. there was not even a proper grave for Blake, just damp grass and lonely hills, and Scho has left him behind. never to see him again. thinking about his panic when the truck comes to a halt, how he is near tears, begging the others to help him push it from the mud. how they do not understand until they see the half-mad grief sparking in his eyes. how they do their best to help, and he climbs back in the truck, drained. "there were two of us," he says. only one is left now. Blake's blood still clings to his skin like paint.

how he tells Cooke that he is going to make it, when he himself doesn't fully believe that he will. how he knows he must continue on alone when they discover the bridge is out. he doesn't have time for a detour. he faces the broken bridge, the crumbling town, and grief walks with him hand in hand as he steps onto the rail of the bridge. his legs are shaking. but he must go on because Blake's brother is still alive, and if he couldn't save Blake, maybe he can save his family instead. just like Blake. a little older. so Scho walks on with trembling legs. and then the gunshots, and he jumps out of his skin in the silence, heart racing.

thinking about the way he has to calm his breathing and steel himself before he takes aim and fires at the sniper. how he is cautious creeping into the building, but the bullet strikes him anyway, and he falls into darkness. how his blood has congealed in a puddle below his head, and he sits up, dazed. confused. not remembering where he is or what exactly he is meant to be doing. how he touches his head, and then drags himself up the stairs slowly and stares at the city. a city broken and bleeding like himself. how when he sees the German soldier near the burning church, he is dazed. he wonders if this man can help him. he walks towards the man, and then suddenly he is being charged at, and the man's rifle is lifted. Scho jumps in panic, because this man is not a friend, and he wants to kill.

thinking about how Scho, drifting in and out of his own mind, becomes suddenly aware of Lauri in her refuge, terrified and certain he is about to shoot her. how he tries to communicate in broken French. "Friend. I'm a friend." how he winces, head throbbing in sudden pain as dizziness washes over him. he tries to make her understand where he needs to go, because he has a vague idea but his head hurts and he just can't remember. how Lauri tells him to sit, but he is too dazed to understand, so she repeats it. he sits awkwardly, painfully, hand pressed to his head. how Lauri touches his head and turns it. there is the slightest bit of wariness in his face, but her hands are the first gentle touch he has felt in perhaps months, and so he lets her take care of him. "thank you," he tells her, hoarse from exhaustion, slowly so she will understand.

and then. instantly when he hears the cries every nerve in his body is sharpened. a child. a baby. there is still humanity in the world. "A girl?" he asks. Lauri affirms, and he can't help but smile. he can't help but think of his own two girls. he kneels in front of the baby, enraptured.

thinking about how he and Lauri look at each other with a horrible understanding because this baby is an orphan and she will never know her mother. how Schofield gives up all of his rations for Lauri, the only thing he can do to help when clearly he longs to do so much more than he can. how he and Lauri become so excited when he produces his canteen full of milk, because there are still small miracles during war.

how Scho leans in towards the baby and holds out his hand. "bonjour," he whispers, in a voice clearly used on babies before. how he avoids Lauri's questions about his own children, because it hurts too much to say out loud. how the baby is fascinated by him, because he is a father and he is gentle, and his voice is soft. how Scho recites a nursery rhyme, slowly and quietly, with the expertise of one who is used to speaking to small children. yearning for home fills his eyes.

thinking about how when the bell starts to sound, he remembers suddenly what he is meant to be doing. how his heart breaks and the dread returns as he stands, not wanting to leave this cozy, firelit scene of tranquility, a respite in the hellfire. but he knows he must. he tells himself he will return to help, but in his heart he knows that is impossible.

how Scho does not want to kill Baumer, because he has seen enough of death. how Baumer is young, maybe younger than Blake, and they are both afraid. how he and Scho stare at each other, two boys who miss their families and mothers and homes, how Scho shushes the enemy because he does not want him to die. he is just a boy. but as soon as Baumer screams Scho knows there is no mercy. not in war. not when Blake's brother could be walking into a deathtrap. so he wraps his hands around the boy's throat and pins him to the ground and he kills. there is no mercy in war. he repeats it to himself as he squeezes the air from Baumer's lungs.

thinking about how Scho runs desperate, panicked, flailing through the streets, careening and dazed, still reeling from Baumer's last chokes of air. how he sees the bridge and remembers Lauri telling him about the river and throws himself off as the bullets sing behind him. how he crashes into the water and comes up, gasping, choking, struggling to stay afloat, but his clothes are waterlogged and he is exhausted and the river is hungry. how he fights to stay above water, gasping, flailing through the rapids, trying desperately to grab on to anything he can reach, choking and trying to breathe. how he is thrown against the rock in the rapids, how he will drown if something does not change. he tumbles over the falls like a corpse, limp and helpless, splashing into the churning waters below. finally free from the jaws of the rapids, he seizes a branch and clings to it, and exhaustion drags him down and he chokes on the river.

thinking about how he slowly becomes aware of the cherry petals, how he sees them and freezes because they were the last thing Blake spoke of. "they'll grow again when the stones rot." And Schofield flips himself over, and swims towards the bank, because he is not dead yet and neither is Blake's brother, and he will not let him die.

thinking about how he approaches the bank and sees the corpses, floating at the edge, and he pauses and looks for a way around them before realizing there is none. how he climbs over first one, then two, then more and more, tumbling and rolling, trapped amid the bloated bodies, panicking. how slight hyperventilation has begun as he claws his way through the corpses and remembers the feel of the rotting soldier on his palm. how he drags himself from the river, choking, panting, and falls to his hands and knees and sobs with the anguish of a child who cannot hold back the tears, because everything has finally caught up with him and he cannot stop it any more.

how he hears the singing and thinks he must be hallucinating. how he wanders through the trees, wind brushing past him and stirring the leaves, mingling with the haunting song from afar. how he approaches the company of soldiers seated beneath the trees, and slows, because he is unsure if they are real, or if they are ghosts like him. he must be dead. he must be dreaming. he sits on the ground and leans against a tree and accepts that he is a spirit, lost amongst the trees.

thinking about how the men group around him and ask if he's all right, and his voice is weak and strained and feeble, and he is still trapped in the realm of the dead. and then he looks up in utter shock, because after a night of terror he has found the Devons, and the end of his goal is in sight. save Joe. save Blake's brother. his fate is in your hands.

how even though his face is not visible, there is so much horror in him when he sees the men funneling into the trench, a dusty white scar against an emerald landscape. how he shoves his way through the soldiers desperately, not caring about anything but saving these men, saving Joe. for Blake. do it for Blake. his footsteps carry him on, and he forces through the men with abandon. thinking about how he is so panicked, but the lieutenant ignores him and sends him on his way in rage. how Scho stumbles on, trying to find anyone who will listen.

and then. how Scho sees the devastation, how he knows what the field beyond the trench is like because he has seen it before. but he climbs up anyway, pausing just once. "Are you bloody insane?" and he hesitates, fear clouded on his face before he pushes it away. because yes, he is insane. he is insane, and he is determined, and he will not let them die. "What the hell are you doing, Lance Corporal?"

and he runs.

He builds in speed, sprinting, flying across the field. slamming into men, rolling on grass as shells explode around him in sprays of grass and mud and shrapnel. there is screaming and yelling and he runs. he has no energy left, but he forces himself onward, because he will not let these men die. he will not let Blake's brother perish. and then, finally, he crosses the field of death and Colonel Mackenzie is mere yards away. and the orderlies try to stop him, wrestle him out of reach, but he is desperate. he does not care. he fights them, and he stumbles into the dugout, and there is Colonel Mackenzie. the end is in sight.

thinking about how, on top of everything, after a day and a half of terror, exhaustion, hunger, and grief, Scho staggers up to Mackenzie, concussed, bloody, and panicked, and shoves the letter at him. and after everything, no one believes him. no one wants to listen, and he's near tears. he's desperate, because he's done all of this for Blake, and now they will not listen. there is such a rawness in his voice as he pleads. there is such a fractured heartbreak in his desperation. "sir, read the letter," he begs. and Mackenzie rips it from his hands with disdain.

thinking about how Scho, already traumatized at the start of 1917, endured so much fear and grief and desperation, only to be treated like he's less than dirt when he finally reaches the end. not a kind word. nothing. just told to eff off by a man who had no idea that he just went through hell and back. a man who is too inconvenienced, too high up to see the grief and pain and exhaustion in a lowly lance corporal's eyes.

thinking about how Scho searches desperately for Joe, hopelessness filling his gaze as he wanders among the wounded with the stench of bloody death in his nostrils. how a soldier babbles that he wants his mother, and Scho cannot help but think of Blake's last request. Tell her I wasn't scared. He wanders out into a field, dazed. staring into the sunlight, certain that he failed.

thinking about how he finally finds Joe, moving towards him in shocked relief because he is not a corpse, and gives him Blake's belongings. about how he asks if he can write to their mother. how he talks about Blake always telling funny stories, something he took for granted, because you never miss things until they are gone. "he saved my life," he says, and likely he means it in more ways than one. Blake didn't just unbury him from the rubble. he saved Scho from himself, from the hell of his trauma.

thinking about how in the end, Scho brushes off Joe's offer of food and wanders into the field to sit beneath a tree, alone. he pulls out his tobacco box and opens it, brushing his fingers over the faces of his wife and girls. Come back to us. He wants to, so badly. He hated going home, but he needs it more than anything else on earth. The sun is warm on his face, and the grass is fresh and sweet, and if he sits still, he can almost imagine Blake lying near him, helmet over his face as he dozes, not a care in the world. alive. breathing and alive.

there are things still worth living for. the war has not claimed him, nor will it, because he has chosen to live. "hope is a dangerous thing," he was told, and yet he sits and closes his eyes, and he hopes.

#long post #very long post. I am sorry but also I have no regrets #also don't judge this is literally just word vomit ajdskj #I didn't really look over it before posting so #schofield #william schofield #thomas blake #1917 #1917 film #blake #blake and schofield #lauri #joe blake

[ommew]

french baby moment

#1917 #William Schofield #schofield #will schofield #1917 fanart #1917 shitpost #art #drawing #my friend sent this picture and i had to omg #wwi #ww1 #george mackay

[schofieldundercurrents]

OBSCURA BUCKLE

This buckle was designed for the Obscura but also retro-fitable to all other Schofields, this is why the Obscura buckle is not Damascus, that was too cheesy and watch specific. Overall, it is slightly bigger than the old types, an appropriate shift in the visual balance of weight between the watch and the buckle. The one shown is the blasted type - there are others coming and you will see those soon.

#watches #design #luxury #schofield #style #horology #cool watches #minimal #cool #watch

[trakker1985]

Got Clip Studio Paint recently, so doing a lil' practice to acclimatize myself to the layout and tools, mostly doodles. Here's the first finished piece though, some Schofield =3

#cute #girl #schofield #gym #bandages #muscles #toned

[eatmacherries]

Some doodles I did of Schofield beacuse I have nothing else better to do with my life

#my art #1917 #sam mendes 1917 #1917 fanart #1917 movie #william schofield #schofield #i hate these so much #hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #artists on tumblr #digital art #art #face expression #doodles #sad boy scho #fanart #ww1 #world war 1

[jayvrontio]

Blake parties too hard and dies

sorry, not sorry

#1917 #1917 movie #art #1917 fanart #thomas blake #schofield #william schofield #shitghosting #funny shit #shitpost #what am i doing #stupid #not sorry #not funny #animatic

[oneoflokis-blog]

Schofield? Schmofield. 😏 (& the same to everyone obsessed by his sex life. 😏)

Yes. well, as I've said on quite a number of occasions to various people, all this celebrity stuff, in particular, is for the birds. I know I've said "for the birds" quite a few times recently, I think. But pretty much all celebrity stuff, is for me now, in particular celebrity sex scandals, or pseudo scandals, whether homosexual or heterosexual, whether they would involve Philip Schofield, or I don't know Prince Harry and Meghan Markle! Are a complete waste of time as news, particularly from the viewpoint, of any sincere and informed socialist. Well ... I know that quite a few people use or tend to use celebrity issues, as a way of relating themselves to more general issues: or even simply so that they have something to talk about, and everybody else will know what it is they're talking about.

But: this is simply a very shallow way to relate to the world. And you do have to remember, that the more time people spend on line or anywhere else, talking about celebrities, and gossiping about them, the less time they and the actual media will have to concentrate on ordinary people and talk about them and about issues that matter.

So it's a question of where the focus should be! 🙂

And don't give me that stuff all about how immoral Phillip Schofield or someone like him is. He actually fits into an a number of very normal in inverted commas cliches: that of the boss who has an affair with his secretary, which this is the equivalent of; then there's the established gay trope of the much older and more experienced man with a lot younger man, and so on and so forth. To suggest that this is anything extraordinary or criminal is simply naive. It's both naive and hypocritical: which unfortunately both are very prevalent features of contemporary British society. 😏

As I told to that Wolf person or whatever his name was on a fairly recent Twitter thread, I know exactly why - the web of reasons why - this Phillip Schofield thing is being made the most tremendous fuss of on social media right now. As I told him, it is partially mass hysteria which is fueled by the mainstream media; Britain goes through a paedophile panic every so often, which was once very neatly satirised by the satirical program Brass Eye! 🙂

And secondly, to go along with the mass hysteria, we also have a sort of mass collective guilt, which was really sparked off by, and has been hanging around for years, due to the failure by the police, the media and I suppose ultimately the public, to catch and expose Jimmy Savile as the kind of predator he was. As I also said on Twitter, worrying about Savile really is shutting the stable door after the horse has indeed bolted. 😏

But the comparisons being made, particularly on YouTube right now, between Schofield and Savile, are quite simply ridiculous and obviously completely unwarranted. Often they are done by insinuation: like with the juxtaposition of a picture of one with a picture of the other, both Photoshopped so as to look extremely unpleasant, particularly on the thumbnail where everyone can see it. This is both clickbait and libel of the worst variety and it should not be allowed by YouTube, and it should be removed. But we all know they're much more interested in censoring political channels.

Yes. This smearing by

association: that is something the modern mainstream media are well known to do. **Usually when they are producing some type of propaganda or another.** Mr Corbyn got plenty of that: but that's another matter.

And we also notice - at least I do - that most of the fuss about Schofield, at least that which has revealed itself in my YouTube feed, and nearly all the smears about Schofield, are produced by right wing sites, the likes of GB News, and further right. The kind of poisonous sneery tone, of a lot of these obviously non-socialist sites towards Schofield; denote to me two things. And often I think it's a mixture of the two! Namely, a kind of poisonous - when is it never poisonous - schadenfreude brought on by jealousy of a very successful career (some of these tubers are obviously people on the peripheries of showbiz). Second would be the still commonly felt among right wingers hostility towards homosexuals. Which they are cunningly attempting to disguise as something completely else: but I believe I can read the real emotional and ideological message particularly behind some of the more sneery type of channels. If you didn't hate gays, and you weren't jealous pricks, you wouldn't be sneering! is my conclusion. 🤷‍♀️

I don't really care whether a person is "moral", by the way. But I do care about fairness. The current treatment of Schofield, and the juxtaposition with Savile, is most certainly unfair. 😏

Anyway: the modern left, well most of it, doesn't appear to care about fairness: and once again quite stupidly they appear to have fallen for another scam. Or a mass hysteria; or a witch hunt; whatever one wants to call it. Similar to with the #itwasascam antisemitism thing really. 😏 Well at least, I can see them cheering it along on Twitter. I don't know if any left YouTuber has made any pieces positive or negative about Schofield: I haven't seen any of the ones I follow cover it, I haven't really looked. 🤷‍♀️

And similar of course to #metoo; which died a death really, with the flop of Amber Heard. And a bloody good thing it did!

What I'm saying - the conclusion I have come to - is the all these kind of celebrity things, when even not total smears, are a complete waste of time: and should not be touched with a barge pole by the left.

In fact, I would ban all this type of idea of social justice! That they think is social justice anyway; when really it's based on media bullying and Twitter dog piling; and doesn't achieve anything anyway. Much like that other pompous person on a Twitter thread I was on a couple of days ago was saying something like I was stopping successors of Savile from being hunted down! 😄 Like a) Schofield was anything at all like Savile; and like b) this fellow or a bunch of his fellow nerds on Twitter were going to do anything of the sort! Rotfl. 🤣 More people with a stupid keyboard warrior superhero complex! 😏👎

That's what I think. 😏😄

#Schofield #philip schofield #celebrities #sex scandals

[josefksays]

#1917 #George MacKay #Schofield #Those eyes #The art of cinematography #Roger Deakins #My edits

[scarecrow-and-huntsman]

#jack west jr series #jack west series #the jack west jr series #interceptor #shane schofield #schofield #jack west jr. #Instagram

[frunbuns]

Schofield’s Wound Stripe

“Blake heaves him to his feet - his uniform is identical to Blake’s, same rank, the only difference is the brass wound stripe on Schofield’s left sleeve.“

“A wound stripe is a distinction of dress bestowed on soldiers wounded in combat. It was typically worn on military uniform jackets.”

“The award of a stripe to soldiers who had been wounded during the war was authorized by Army Order 249 of 6 July 1916. This order allowed those who had appeared in a War Office casualty list to sew a two-inch stripe of gold Russia braid onto the left sleeve of their service jacket.”

“Officers and men reported ‘wounded – gas,’ or ‘Wounded – shock, shell,’ are entitled to the [WOUND STRIPE].“

BLAKE: Was it like this before Thiepval? 

The name does something to Schofield. Fear clings to him. He pushes it away. 

SCHOFIELD: I don’t remember.

BLAKE: You don’t remember the Somme?

SCHOFIELD: Not really.

“In August 1916, coincidentally a month after the massacres on the battlefields of the Somme, the British Army began issuing wound stripes to Allied Soldiers and Officers who had been wounded in combat or campaigns since 4th August 1914″

#surely no one cares enough about this movie to do this #like only I am delusional enough to want to highlight a small costume detail lol #that being said I did write that one fic about it so #1917 #1917 (2019) #1917 movie #1917 film #will schofield #william schofield #lance corporal schofield #schofield #Sam Mendes #krysty wilson-cairns #ig I'll tag them since they wrote it lol #mine

[schofieldshelmet]

Just finished this piece! Les Mis reference at the top, anyone?

(Also yes, my camera is horrible so it looks super muddy. Irl it’s much less grainy)

#schofield #Blake’s entire head bothers me to no end but it’s fine #William schofield #Thomas blake #Blake #1917 #1917 movie #1917 blake #1917 schofield #schofield and Blake #Blake and schofield #1917 art #1917 fanart #my art

[wausaupilot]

Weston, Schofield, Rothschild and other area communities mull joint municipal court

The courtroom itself will be housed in the Rothschild Village Hall.

Wausau Pilot & Review In a significant move toward regional cooperation, the Village of Weston is considering joining a newly established Rothschild Area Municipal Court alongside the Village of Rothschild, City of Schofield, Town of Weston, Village of Marathon City, and Village of Edgar. The issue is on Monday’s agenda for the Village of Weston Board meeting. Wausau is not included in the…

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#Edgar #Marathon City #Rothschild #Schofield #town of Weston #village of Weston

[schofieldundercurrents]

BRITISH MADE TITANIUM WATCHES

Let's talk titanium watches and more specifically - titanium. Discovered in Cornwall in 1791, and there we have a nice link to the Blacklamp Carbon watch we made which has a structure akin to the crazy geology of the cliffs of Milook Haven near Bude. Titanium was named after the Greek Titans. It is the 7th most abundant metal in the Earth's crust. It has been detected in the sun, M-type stars, meteorites and it makes up 12.1% of moon rock composition. But that is generally an oxide because pure metallic titanium is very rare. 95% of all titanium ore is refined into titanium dioxide, a white pigment used in pretty much everything that is white - paint, sunscreen, toothpaste, paper, plastics, etc... Seen here is the Blacklamp Carbon, not for sale.

So why is titanium such a cool material for watches? Titanium reacts immediately with air to form a thin non-porous passivation layer that continues to grow for about 4 years to a thickness of 25nm. A shield that protects the body of metal. This makes titanium watches as corrosion resistant as platinum ones. It is non-magnetic, it has the highest strength to weight ratio of any metal. Titanium is roughly 40% lighter than steel but just as strong. Twice the strength of aluminium but only 60% heavier and it is here that we have the titanium watches paradox. Whilst it is a commonly accepted metal for watch cases it falls short for luxury heft. On paper it should be the number one metal for cases but alas, if it is not heavy it is not precious. It is more expensive than steel as a raw material and is more difficult to machine but within the luxury sector cost is not the limiting factor in its ubiquity, it is weight.

That said, and thanks the Citizen X-8 in 1970 who were the first to use it, we see more titanium watches on the market every year, so perhaps the on-paper specs make more sense than our senses. Rolex launched its first ever commercially available full titanium watch in 2022 marking an important milestone for the metal's luxury value. Even though every other watchmaker of note has had to make a titanium watch, very few are vaulted and coveted like their steel counterparts. As of 2023, you could look at Audemars Piguet, Grand Seiko and Vacheron Constantin for some stellar examples.

Where does the Strange Lights fit in? For starters the case, including the case back are fully machined and finished in the UK, the cases are machined in Dorset and we do the finishing here in Sussex. The laser engraving is done between the two counties in Hampshire. We use Grade 5 Ti-6AL-4V (similar to the Rolex Sea Dweller RLX and the same as Richard Mille), an alloy with 6% aluminium and 4% vanadium. It is an expensive alloy favoured for its hardness and machining capabilities. However, titanium has poor thermal conductivity so heat builds up between the surface of the part and the cutting tool, thus creating a characteristic chatter in the cut as the tool expands and shrinks, so you will also see greater tool wear. We use state-of-the-art 5 axis CNC mills with skilled engineers who work with titanium all day long, especially within the military sector. In short, they know what they are doing and that mitigates the difficulties of working with this metal. So, to see the quality of finish as we do on the Strange Lights is testament to the quality of the case machining and precision.

The Strange Lights brings together the Schofield themes of sea and space. Titanium has so many specialist applications both in marine and space exploration. The International Space Station is estimated to have 22,226 Kg of titanium onboard comprising 7% of its total mass. So, the Strange Lights had to be titanium as soon as the idea took hold. The case back features a romantic look at these notions with the use of a 1950s UFO shining its light/beam on Smeaton's Tower Lighthouse, a strange light that would be! But we also see a star circle, not just showing the passing of time but also a map or a guide. The fact that this design is like a mission patch is no coincidence. SWC SL-1 (indicating that one day they may be more iterations of this watch) is mechanically engraved on the side giving us this ship's identity.

The Strange Lights is a limited watch in two dial colours; Not Quite Green and Not Quite Red, port and starboard lights. In the sky or on the water?

Schofield Titanium Watches

Schofield British Watchmakers

#watches #Schofield #Cool #horology #design #metal #titanium #science #technology #minimalist #menswear #mensfashion #best watches #modern watches #luxury #style

[pkansa]

Schofield Light: Just Released

Schofield Light: Just Released

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#field watch #gmt #Schofield