Many people may criticize us for our lack of sensitivity, but we really think to hire an object is less complicated than hiring a person. When, for instance, you offer a job to something instead of somebody, you are reassured by the fact the thing will work hard for you, without complaining or trying to sue you, or stabbing your back at the first occasion. Objects are honest, faithful, even wise. They mind their business while you try to do yours. It goes without saying they have nothing to say, but since people like you and me like to talk to dogs, plants and cars, and – when particularly stressed or lonely – may start a conversation with anything inanimate, well, even if such objects may not reply to us, nevertheless you have to reckon they can be very good listeners.
Anyways, last month we were almost going to hire a photographer (who was asking too much) and we ended up hiring a camera. We’ve got a beautiful, sleek, sturdy, stilish and reliable piece of engineering. No need for an interview, in this case. We had heard many good stories about Leica, and we knew it had been a top choice among every professional who could afford it (or should we say ‘her’?).
It’s a pleasure to deal with objects like this one, especially when you grow tired of dealing with time-wasting morons, angry clients and depresssed nobodies. Objects, especially when they are beautiful and functional and bear a mechanical perfection, create a sort of distance from us. They want us to forget they have been forged by man. They prefer to be just objects, not one of our emanations. That’s probably why it’s so good to feel the cold, polished steel of the Leica getting warmer in my hands. There’s an unsettling contrast between the soft skin and the sharply crafted metal, almost as if a toy from an alien, advanced civilization landed in the hands of a hairless monkey. Leica is now part of the Brandpowder Team, just like any other person here. The only difference, perhaps, is that while we see things we then forget, she will remember things without having actually seen them.
Peter Butu (from Sydney)