It’s been a decade since Max Büsser introduced us to his Legacy Machine watches that not only revealed a whole new dimension to his brand MB&F, but are also universally lauded by even the most discriminating watch collectors. To be fair, by 2011, Büsser had already indelibly inked his place in the canon of watchmaking’s greatest leaders. While the world today has reignited its passion for independent watchmaking, it was Büsser who was most critical in bringing attention to them.
By now the legend of Büsser has become popular horological folklore. Finding himself a young CEO at the helm of Harry Winston’s watch division amid a crazed resurgence in complicated watchmaking, but with zero in-house acumen of his own, he tapped his friends like François-Paul Journe, Vianney Halter, Felix Baumgartner and Martin Frei, offering them the chance of a lifetime — carte blanche to create the wildest, most innovative watches the world had ever seen. This project he christened “Opus” and thanks to the support of equally dynamic partners such as Michael Tay of The Hour Glass, the world suddenly realised the extraordinary beauty and singular creativity of independent watchmaking.
Büsser’s next move was to create his own brand with the same creative ethos of collaboration that made Opus a success. Aptly named Maximilian Büsser & Friends, the brand’s initial focus was on Horological Machines, “time‑telling kinetic art forms”, as I put it when I first saw them, that gleaned their iconography from manga and science fiction. To me, attention to detail, refinement in finish and genuine originality of thought have always separated Max’s watches from those of other modernist creators. Shortly after he created HM4 in 2010, a watch that looked like two rocket ships sitting on your wrist, the question on everyone’s mind,
