Brian Stewart. 1950-2024

Brian Stewart was the only man I have ever known who could wear Speedos and get away with it. They looked good on him. He knew it. He did not give a damn what other people thought.

That was Brian. ?A man of uncompromising opinion, taste and style. A passion for perfection. A distaste for the mediocre. A brutal honesty. And a deep love of life, people, and doing the right thing.

It was what made him a great art director. And a fantastic human being.

I first met Brian in 1983 at WCRS. I was a junior copywriter in the company of advertising legends, like Brian. He swaggered onto the creative floor wearing his hallmark Comme Des Garcons jacket, Levis, immaculate black loafers, white shirt, and spotty silk scarf. His uniform.

Brian crackled with energy. Barking orders in his unmistakable Edinburgh accent. Erudite, intense, and from time to time astonishingly rude, Brian’s laugh was his secret weapon. He could say almost anything and get away with it when he followed up with the manic Brian Stewart cackle.

You had to forgive him.

In 1985 Brian made the best decision of his life. He got together with Amanda Walsh, who was then an account director at the agency.

Amanda was patient, kind and wise beyond her years. Glossy, with a gentle, radiant beauty. She was highly adept at managing ‘bad boy’ creatives. And like Brian, Amanda had a mischievous streak. ?

They made the perfect couple. Brian and Amanda became a brand. If you could have bottled them, you’d have made a fortune.

At work Brian had always shone. Before WCRS, his first job in1972 had been as an art director at Halls, Edinburgh. ?He moved south to work at KMP, before joining the fledgeling WCRS, making his name on the launch of BMW.?

A stint as Head of Art at FCB preceded his own startup, Elgie Stewart Smith. A critical if not financial success. Followed by a decade as creative director at Delaney Fletcher Bozell.

And then later Brian became a photographer. His real passion. But if you begged him he’d still help out as a freelance agency art director working on various car campaigns, and famously, Marks and Spencer.

Brian was particularly brilliant at car advertising, even though he could not drive.

My favourite work of Brian’s was the press campaign he did for Jeep with photographer Peter Beard. It was one of those rare instances when advertising actually was art. It was Peter Beard who in turn persuaded Brian himself to become a photographer.

But coming from an age where work defined men, Brian was not defined by work.

At home Brian was a committed, inspirational father to Sophie and Jamie. An excellent and quirky cook. Passionate about photography and design. A swimmer in Speedos. (He had swum for Scotland when a teenager.) A die-hard Marlborough Red smoker. An obsessive shopper. A fantastic host. An expert in everything. A home maker, par excellence. And for 40 years, a devoted partner and husband to Amanda.

Brian and Amanda took it to another level when they bought Old House in Nymans, West Sussex in 2003.

The extraordinary Tudor cottage had belonged to Lord Snowden. Deep in the Sussex countryside, it was the secluded getaway where Snowden and Princess Margaret would hide from the world. You literally had to drive through a field to get to it, and still do. There is no road to Old House.

Each time I visited Old House it became more beautiful, more stylish, more magical, more ‘Brian and Amanda.’ ?It is not possible to describe the uniqueness of the place they created, so I will not try. Suffice to say Old House represented everything Brian stood for. It summed Brian up.

Brian died there last month in the middle of his paradise. With Amanda, the love of his life at his side. Perfection, created by a perfectionist.

“Amandahhhhhhhhhh. Bring me one more glass of wine.”

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Robert Campbell.

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