MASSIMILIANO QUINTAVALLE OF LA VALLÉE ON THREE GENERATIONS OF ITALIAN CRAFTSMANSHIP 

Massimiliano Quintavalle leads La Vallée, a family clockmaking business that has quietly operated for nearly a century. What began as a small repair workshop in 1930s Venice has evolved into one of Italy's most distinctive horological houses, creating deeply personal timepieces that blur the lines between mechanical artistry and emotional storytelling.

Massimiliano’s path to La Vallée wasn't predetermined. After earning his mechanical engineering degree from Politecnico di Milano and completing apprenticeships in Bologna and specialized micromechanics companies, he joined the family business in 2002. Under his stewardship, La Vallée, has evolved from a focus on crafting bespoke timepieces to introducing new limited-edition series that merge traditional Italian craftsmanship with innovative horology.

We spoke with Massimiliano about the remarkable journey that began with his grandfather Antonio's workshop at Venice's Ruga dei Oresi, Ponte di Rialto, the pivotal moment that launched La Vallée into creating one-of-a-kind artistic timepieces, and how he and his father have guided the company's evolution while preserving its core philosophy of creating timepieces that forge emotional connections with their owners.

La Vallée has maintained a remarkably low profile over the decades. Can you share the story behind this discretion and how the company came to be?

Firstly, there isn't much information about La Vallée because we've always tried to remain discreet. The business is like an extension of our family, and to be honest, this is only the second interview I've ever given. It's not something we're accustomed to. We're a small operation, and what my grandfather, my father, and I have always focused on is the pleasure of creating.

Nevertheless, it all started with my grandfather, Antonio Quintavalle, who opened his first workshop in Venice, at Ruga dei Oresi, next to the Ponte di Rialto. He was repairing pocket watches and clocks for people in the city. During that time in the 1930s, he lived with his family in Campo Santa Margherita, in Venice, together with his wife and seven sons—so it was a big family. By the 1950s, while still working in Venice, one of his clients who had a house in Como asked him to come and assess his private collection of clocks and watches. Given the size of the family and the distance between Venice and Como, Antonio decided to move the family there just for the summer holidays. But after a few months, he realised the scale of the work was much bigger than expected. The collector was happy for him to set up a workshop on his property.

Once the work was completed, the collector told Antonio he was welcome to stay and look after not only his collection, but also those of his friends. That's how the family ended up moving permanently to Como. Antonio continued doing repair work, but he had always been passionate about antiques and the arts. He often said he dreamed of creating something of his own. That was the beginning of what we call artistic clocks—clocks defined not only by function, but by the craftsmanship and artistic intent behind their creation.

What were the specialities of Como at the time?

During this time, Como was renowned for its silk industry and had artisans carving the drums used to stamp patterns onto the silk. There were also many silversmiths and goldsmiths moving from Milan to the area where we're located today. The area where we are located today was known as the village of the cesellatori and incisori, artisans who specialized in metal chiselling and engraving. Their expertise was initially connected with the silk industry. They crafted detailed metal drums used to print elaborate patterns on silk fabrics. This collaboration between metal artisans and textile producers helped build Como's reputation as a centre for both metalworking and textiles. Later on the cesellatori and the incisori were involved into the chiselling of silverware, sacred art objects and jewellery for renown silversmith and goldsmith from Milan.

So, at that time, my grandfather started creating this kind of artistic clock. They were based on decorative figures like what we call in Italy the putto—small cherub-like children often found in classical art. These were cast in bronze or brass, and after casting, they were hand-chiselled and finished. He took inspiration from older designs, like clocks and chandeliers from the time of Louis XIII or Louis XIV and started reproducing that kind of artistic style. For example, one of the putto figures was holding a chain with a small clock at the end, which contained a watch movement from Switzerland. That's the kind of creative work they were doing back then.

Around the mid-1960s, my father joined the workshop. He started when he was very young, which was quite common at the time—people often worked and studied at the same time. Even as a teenager he would spend time in the workshop, watching my grandfather and the artisans work, gradually learning by doing. That was how his journey began.

What was the turning point that transformed La Vallée from producing traditional clocks to creating one-of-a-kind artistic timepieces?

This marked the beginning of something special. The clock marked a change for La Vallée, and I still remember when my father told me this for the first time.

At the time La Vallée was producing carriage clocks and had 100 points of sale across Italy. For a small company this was a lot, but there a high level of appreciation for things designed and made well during the 70s and we were equipped to accommodate those needs. So, one day a gentleman from Switzerland came to visit the company with a large roll of paper. Upon unrolling the paper, we saw a 2-metre-high clock customised with rare crystals and gemstones. He wanted a clock exactly like the drawing and said, "I've been told you can do this work for me". My grandfather was shocked. He said, "What? There's no way we can do this. I'm sorry, we cannot do that”. Meanwhile, my father said, "Let me try. I'm sure we can do it."

This was a pivotal moment for La Vallée because from this moment on my father embraced this path, and we started creating unique creations. So, for many years, we have been very discreet, as our focus has always been working with the requests of our clients, many of whom are also very discreet and want something special to add to their collections.

In many of these cases, our projects have been linked to their own personal experience. Memorably during my time, we had a client who was sitting in his garden and saw butterflies hovering over the flowers, looking for nectar. He was so amazed by the beauty of the natural world that he wanted to celebrate this moment with a unique piece.

Speaking of yourself, was it always the plan to join the family business?

I didn't envisage joining the company initially. It wasn't by chance, but let's call it life. My father always gave me the freedom to choose whatever I wanted to do and never pressured me to join the business. It was pretty natural, and I would say also funny, because when I got my master's degree in mechanical engineering at Politecnico di Milano, I immediately had to do my military service—10 months in the mountain corps. Quite often on the weekends, I would come back home, I used to stop by the company to say hello to my dad and see what they were doing. Gradually, I was really drawn into it. When I was a kid, I always had the pleasure of trying to make things myself. I really admired my dad, who was creating these amazing projects from A to Z, from the initial drawing to the machining and craftsmanship, merging all those skills together.

Then I decided to talk with my dad and said, "I'd like to try to help, to start working with you." And what he said was, "Okay, feel free, you can try and see, but first of all, you have to get some experience, not inside the company, but outside." So I went to Bologna, where there was a very nice man, a friend of my dad's, who was a watchmaker, a very creative one. I spent many months with him doing my apprenticeship. I still remember the first task I was asked to do—it was so funny. He was a man with a really big heart, very human. He'd had a difficult life, but he was generous and humble. The first task: he gave me a mounted clock or a carriage clock—I don't remember exactly. He took out a wheel, broke one tooth, and gave me a small brass plate, a saw, and a file. And he said, "Okay, now your task is to make a new tooth and make the wheel work."

So, I had to saw a piece of metal, repair the wheel, and do what is used in the furniture industry to join wood using this shape—we call it coda di rondine (dovetail joint), which is like the tail of a rondine, a small swallow, a bird with a tail shaped like that. This triangular shape is used to fit the two parts. So, I did it by hand. I cut, I fitted a new piece of brass, and then I started filing the tip to match the shape. I still remember—that was my first task. It was so funny, and he was very satisfied.

Then I spent a couple of years in a few companies, including a small company producing components for the aerospace and medical sectors—many small, precise parts before joining La Vallée.

What inspired the creation of the M30TP, and how did it reflect La Vallée's philosophy and evolution?

With timepieces and clocks, it's often easier to see the mechanics, and for those curious enough, it becomes natural to want to understand them more deeply. That curiosity has always driven us. Even for us, we learned a lot working with the special requests of our clients, but reached a point where we questioned ourselves and wanted to do something to make La Vallée known to the broader community of watch and clock enthusiasts. That was the starting point for the M30TP.

The initial concept was to create something that could demonstrate our technical expertise while feeling more contemporary and shareable. I clearly remember the day in which we discussed the idea. It was April 2018. Me and my father, sat down at the R&D department’s table with Ricardo Sasso and his son Luciano, for a long brainstorming session. Ricardo, who is an incredible talented watchmaker, has worked alongside my father in developing incredible complications on many unique pieces and Luciano, his son, as talented as his father, is now our head of R&D. During the meeting we set down the following three guidelines: the movement should allow observers to read all the information always upright from both sides of the timepiece, the movement would have featured at least a perpetual calendar and a large and low frequency tourbillon. Luciano was then started designing and developing it from scratch.

M30TP was initially designed to be embedded in a table, not just any table but one that was itself a work of art. When people sit around a table, they share a moment: a meal, a conversation, a quiet pause. We wanted the timepiece to become part of that moment, something that could be experienced and shared across the table. That was how the double-reading system was born, allowing time and information to be read and discussed from both sides.

How did the design and mechanical decisions like the escapement, sound, and display shape the experience you wanted to create?

When we thought about how to design the M30TP, the core idea was to make something that invited discovery. We weren't just aiming to showcase a mechanical complication. We wanted to reframe what a complication could be, not as something merely intricate but as something intuitive, reliable, and engaging that would radically challenge the status quo. The perpetual calendar was completely reimagined and engineered with just seven moving components (this is our proprietary patent) to make it simpler to operate, more efficient, and easier to connect with. One of the outcomes was the ability to set the calendar with your finger, an incredibly tactile experience that brings the caretaker closer to the mechanism.

M30TP was therefore conceived as a timepiece that people would want to discover. The possibility of having something bigger allows you to go deeper, to explore not only the function but also the details. So you are at the table, sharing the moment, possibly a quiet one. From this point, we started thinking about escapement, the type of escapement, and the sound, the beating of the timepiece.

We had two of those big escapements in that room, the kind usually made at school. We had two different escapements: one tourbillon and one standard lever escapement. When we listened to them beating, one had a very nice and smooth sound, and the other had more of a ticking sound, which made it feel less comfortable. While with the other, the sound was really smooth, like pluck, pluck, like a pendulum clock. That sparked our attention. We asked ourselves, "why does this sound make us feel more comfortable?" Because it wasn't a high-frequency sound. From this came the idea of creating a tourbillon and a bigger escapement with a tourbillon, one that beat at low frequency.

So that was the idea of adding something, first of all, big enough to be seen and appreciated. Second, to have low frequencies. And then we questioned ourselves and said that we would like this to be a personal experience linked to our DNA. So, what's better than having the timepiece beating at your resting heart rate? The rate you have when you are quiet, when you're in the proper condition to open yourself to a good book, a nice chat, or a meaningful moment. So, from this came the idea: to design the timepiece to beat at your resting heart rate. First, help set yourself in that state, which is the condition needed to enjoy a moment of discovery, a time of sharing your thoughts with your friends. It is also an opportunity to indulge in the discovery of your timepiece.

If you look at the M30TP, all indications are given by numbers, not letters. That was deliberate. We wanted people to question themselves, asking what is this number? What is that one? We wanted them to go deeper into the timepiece. If you look at the M30TP, you first see the information, then you begin to notice that the tourbillon isn't a standard tourbillon. It runs with no bridges, no cages. And you wonder, how does such a huge escapement even work? By questioning yourself, you find the answer, and in doing so, you go deeper into technical advances. We really packed everything we can do technically into this timepiece.

There was also the entire development process, along with the technical challenges behind the perpetual calendar. The way it could be set is a consequence of its innovative design and is part of the experience we wanted to give to the new caretaker, whether that's the owner or the client. We wanted them to be engaged, to be able to touch and feel it.

So yes, we poured all our technical ability into this piece. More importantly, though, we wanted to create something that could be shared—something that speaks through its movement, its sound, and its presence. The M30TP isn't just a timepiece. It's an invitation to slow down, observe, and connect with others and with the mechanism itself.

Did your family impart this relationship-driven sensibility?

Human relationships matter the most. We are driven by our desire to bring people together to make memories. My grandfather and father passed down this personal, emotional way of working and building relationships. This way of life isn't taught, but when you grow up surrounded by it, you absorb this mindset and look at the world gratefully and humbly.

In Italy, we have a way of saying that you do things in a shadow: "lavorare nell'ombra." This means you work and act without drawing too much attention to yourself, and instead, you do things because you care about the result, not the attention. This mindset extends to how we engage with people both publicly and privately. No matter who it is, we work to empower and respect each other. Our company is an extension of our family, so how we act is very much part of the DNA of the brand.

This mindset then influences how we make timepieces. For example, the Attimo Golf doesn't just tell the time and highlight our craftsmanship; it is our way of celebrating a special moment with golf enthusiasts. The moment doesn't have to be the winning shot; it could be a feeling of achievement or be related to happy memories made on the golf course.

And lastly, how do you approach aesthetics and creativity in your work?

I discussed this with friends and realised how our surroundings influence our artistic sensibilities. In Italy, we are unconsciously exposed to art, architecture, and monuments from ancient times to the Renaissance and modern times. Wherever you go, you live and breathe history. Italians are not better; we are fortunate to live in a culturally rich environment, and this shapes our aesthetic sensibility. You can feel its influence on how you view proportions, colours, and material combinations. You feel it ever since you were a child.

Going back to Venice, the birthplace of Antonio Quintavalle, there were even quite a few significant examples of horology such as St Mark's Clock Tower of Venice located on the north side of Piazza San Marco and the enduring influence of Giovanni Dondi dall’Orologio. Beyond Venice, the Planisferologio Farnese [also known as the Parma Planisferologio] created by Bernardo Facini (born in Venice in 1665) was another remarkable example of Italian clockmaking. The Farnese clock was deeply studied and restored by our family friend Ludwig Oechslin; the process took almost three years. And that was the inspiration for the astronomical function for the development of the Ulysse Nardin Trilogy of Time.

As for creativity itself, there's no process or path to follow. Sometimes, ideas come at night or in the morning—usually when you're doing something unrelated. However, whenever we do have an interesting idea, we meet and discuss it in the workshop. Ideas start out in a natural, uncontrolled manner, but they take shape through discussion.