Leva Gasparyan has been repairing watches for 54 years. He is 75 years old. When he was young, he considered watch repair a hobby, but at some point, it became a way for him to make a living. Today, Leva works in the heart of Yerevan, with his workshop located on Mashtots Avenue. Nearby, there are small craft workshops, including those of a blacksmith and a cobbler.
He repaired his first watch at the age of 21 and now believes that this work was destined for him.
“At the time, I had just been discharged from the Soviet army. Friends from Ukraine came to visit us. One of them was a watchmaker. He brought spare parts to Yerevan to sell because it was difficult to find them here in those years. I accompanied them to watchmakers, asking about the purpose of various parts. Then I asked him to teach me.
On my very first attempt, I managed to repair a watch, and I enthusiastically took up the trade. I started repairing several watches a day. One day, my friend told me that I had already become a skilled craftsman and could open my own workshop and work independently. Without hesitation, that’s exactly what I did,” recalls Leva Gasparyan.
He explains that during the Soviet and post-Soviet years, wearing a watch was essential for punctual people:
“I think it was a reflection of culture. I would even say it was a romantic culture. There were no mobile phones, so meetings were arranged several days in advance. Being late by even a minute could be disastrous. That’s why everyone had a watch. If not for watches, so many people would not have met or gotten married.
People would often arrange to meet by the city’s main clock. The clock was almost a witness to people’s lives. There was a certain romance in it. Watches helped many people build their personal lives. Though I met my wife by chance. After that she never lacked for watches.”
Age and health problems now prevent him from taking on large orders. He says he can no longer repair vintage watches, which contain hundreds of tiny parts—his vision has weakened, and his hands tremble.
Leva Gasparyan deeply regrets that there are no young watchmakers in Yerevan, as the younger generation doesn’t want to learn this craft:
“So I’m teaching my son, so that at least he can carry it on. My son works at the Opera and Ballet Theatre; he’s a ballet dancer. Of course, his heart isn’t really in it. But I want him to learn so that my conscience is clear. I want to teach at least one young person. Nowadays, young people wear smartwatches, digital ones. That’s fine, but mechanical watches are irreplaceable and will always be in demand. I have a friend who brought in 12 watches for maintenance just two days ago. She matches a watch to every outfit.”
The master says that watches are his friends, with whom he spends his life and constantly communicates. He cannot imagine life without his workshop.
“No one in my family wants me to stay home. They know it would be bad for my health. Without the ‘tick-tock’ sound of a watch movement, an unnatural silence settles in my head. Every evening I say goodbye to my watches, but only until the morning,” he says.
