Max Büsser on time, fatherhood, and the beauty of being misunderstood

Maximilian Büsser doesn’t make watches. He builds machines that tell time – and tell stories.

As the founder of MB&F (Maximilian Büsser & Friends), Max has spent nearly two decades redefining independent watchmaking with creations that are as sculptural as they are technical, as provocative as they are poetic. His Horological Machines – often inspired by spacecraft, motorbikes, and childhood dreams—have earned him global reverence among collectors, designers, and rebels alike.

Over the years, Max and MB&F have won nearly every major prize in horology. He’s a multiple-time recipient of the Grand Prix d’Horlogerie de Genève (GPHG), with awards including Best Men’s Watch, Best Ladies’ Complication, Best Calendar Watch, and even the coveted “Aiguille d’Or” award for overall watch of the year. In 2018, he was honored with the Gaïa Prize for “Spirit of Enterprise,” one of the highest recognitions in Swiss watchmaking. MB&F’s timepieces are exhibited in art museums as much as they are admired in collector circles and yet Max remains disarmingly humble.

He’ll be the first to credit his team, his partners, his daughters – even his failures. Despite his cult status in horology, there’s nothing aloof about him. He speaks openly about anxiety. He shares profits with collaborators. He’s just as passionate about the obscure projects that flopped as he is about the ones that sold out in hours.

In this rare and revealing interview for FLTR Magazine, Max opens up about the risks that shaped him, the creative loneliness that often comes with leadership, and why fatherhood – not horology – finally taught him empathy.

This isn’t an interview about watches. It’s about identity, autonomy, and the art of staying human in a world obsessed with perfection.

When you left Harry Winston to start MB&F, what emotion was stronger, excitement or fear? And how long did that balance take to shift?

Excitement was by far the most overwhelming emotion. It’s the only way I can explain that I left my great job to put all my savings (which I knew were not enough) into a brand when all I had was the design of my HM1. I had fallen in love with my idea and as with all passion driven stories, one does not realize the actual consequences. They hit later on, when real life comes calling.

Has fatherhood changed your sense of time and how has that shaped your work at MB&F?

Before having my two daughters, 95% of my time was devoted to MB&F. It’s a wonder that my wife actually became my wife. When I held for the first time my elder daughter in my arms it was clear that I needed to carve out a very big chunk of time in my life for her. But I was already struggling to find enough time for MB&F – my wife recalls that she would fall asleep most evenings at the sound of me typing on my computer and wake up to the same tune.

I needed to make some big changes, and my daughters entering my life, pushed me to structure and delegate more.

Fatherhood has also brought me so much more empathy, and in some way humanity. I was so driven that I often would not consider the notion of balance. Especially not work-life balance.

You’ve built a brand on creative collaboration. What’s one moment you felt completely alone in the process and what got you through it?

You get the same reaction when you come up with a fantastic disruptive idea which could make a real difference, as when you come up with an incredibly stupid idea which could bankrupt your company: usually everyone around you pushes back.

There have been so many creations where even our team were very scared like the LM1, the FlyingT, the M.A.D.1 and more recently the SP1 which is about to launch (or has just launched depending when you publish). Changing paths is always a lonesome affair. Success has many fathers but failure is an orphan…

When you hold one of your older creations, do you still feel pride or do you only see what you would change today?

It’s a little similar to an “Out-of-body experience”. I vaguely remember how excited and passionate each project made me, but I would never create the exact same piece today, so I feel weirdly disconnected. Each creation is a milestone in my creative process. The last twenty years of MB&F pieces are a little like an autobiography where you look at pictures of your younger self – sometimes it’s pride, sometimes embarrassed (did I really try to dress like Don Johnson in Miami Vice?! 😀 ), sometimes just happy recollecting.

You’ve said you build machines that tell the time, not watches. But what’s the last object you bought purely for beauty something that serves no purpose but moved you anyway?

A Frank Buchwald “Machine Light XL01” – We have curated Frank’s beautiful hand-crafted creations for soon 15 years at our M.A.D. Gallery and the XL01 was the unaffordable grail for me. Frank’s story, his creative drive, his kindness and his creations are exactly what we want to showcase to the world. When I heard that the last of the six pieces was being crafted, I had to break the piggy bank.

There’s a fine line between niche and inaccessible. How do you know when you’ve crossed it?

For me “niche” means that it only interests a very small amount of people, whilst “inaccessible” means no one gets it. We have had our fair share of commercial flops during the last twenty years, like the HM5 timepiece or the TriPod clock, but weirdly I have even more love for those pieces. Success should not define the pride in a creation.

Many artists protect their process like a secret. You’ve made yours public through talks, interviews, even pricing transparency. What’s something you’ve deliberately chosen not to share?

I only have ideas, arguably a lot of weird ideas, and I would find it very arrogant to make people believe that those ideas become reality without all the incredibly talented (and nice) people who work so hard with and around me.

Transparency has also simplified my decision process and life. Anytime I plan on doing something, I reflect first if it is fine if everyone is aware of it, and if yes, I can take it to the next step. If not, the idea is canned.

Because I have in a way become a public persona, especially thanks to, or because of, social media, I have to keep my family out of the spotlight. One exception was my wife giving an anecdote on our 20 years – 20 Friends – 20 stories series on IG.

When in your day does coffee show up and is it fuel, pause, or pleasure?

My brain and palate looove coffee but about five years ago the rest of my body stopped loving it. Tea has become the second best, and I enjoy it mid-morning around 10am when I need to catch a second wind. A TWG Smoked Earl Grey with a cloud of milk allows for that little moment of pleasure – a shot of dopamine and a little theine.

What’s next for MB&F—not just in product, but in philosophy?

In 2018 my old friend Michael Tay, owner of the watch retail group The Hour Glass, told me that I was becoming predictable. A nice kick in where it hurts most. And I have to thank him for that. So many projects are now coming out where am getting more and more out of my comfort zone.

Medium term, I have the feeling MB&F will morph into some sort of a M.A.D. Galaxy, with many more spaces to explore.

To call Max Büsser a watchmaker is to miss the point entirely. His work doesn’t fit neatly into categories – it bends them. And perhaps that’s the most striking thing about him: he’s not just building watches or a brand. He’s building a universe. One that runs on collaboration, curiosity, and just the right amount of madness.

If you’re looking for a blueprint on how to lead with imagination – and survive the solitude that often comes with it – Max Büsser has already drawn it. You just have to be willing to follow the weird.