Life of Brian Belle’s senior design consultant remembers the late Brian Keirnan.
Brian Keirnan in 1998, shot for Harper’s Bazaar. Brian took a modernist approach to artist Mary Shackman’s once-derelict home featured in Belle in 1996. Birchgrove House, with a distinctive flat roof, relaxing garden and pond, designed by Brian in collaboration with architect Mark Pearse.
NEWS OF THE UNTIMELY death of architect-trained designer Brian (Patrick) Keirnan was devastating for all those whose lives he touched. He died just before his 67th birthday in November.
More than 330 family, close friends and devoted clients gathered at a memorial to share their memories and stories of Brian’s life, and to celebrate his unique talent, generosity, kindness and sheer force of being that you couldn’t help but be caught up in. In the words of former partner and long-time friend Julian Brophy: “Brian was a veritable whirlwind of passion for life and for people. I also had a ringside seat to that extraordinary talent that was his true gift – his eye for design, for spaces and for things.”
Brian also had a wonderful sense of humour, witty and often naughty. He loved the madcap and the ludicrous, and could exaggerate with enthusiasm. Everyone remembers his favourite expressions: “Move like the clappers”, “My dogs are barking”, “No good turn goes unpunished” and “It’s all part of life’s rich tapestry”.
Paul Keating delivered a poetic eulogy at the memorial. “Brian was a magnificent personality, made magnificent by his own talent and integrity and a walking showcase of what he made of himself,” said the former prime minister, who knew Brian for 30 years and shared an office with him for the last 15. “Brian was a modern renaissance figure [with] a scholastic appreciation of art and form – all self-taught. He could walk into a space and almost immediately reimagine it, and he was a whiz on material use and finishes.”
“Before Google we had Brian,” said Nick Brown, another longtime friend. “[He] was that go-to person when you had a problem or sought information, the familiar ‘ask Brian’.” In his tribute, Rome-based architect Carl Pickering recalled, “Brian’s omnivorous interests, encyclopaedic knowledge and eclectic tastes made him a reference for many of us. His archival knowledge was without prejudice and limits. And Brian created fine, enduring places loved by the people he created them for and with.”
“He had a wonderful eye,” says actress Judy Davis, whose house was designed by Brian working closely with architect Mark Pearse. “From day one it was a joy to live in.” Close friends Sandra and Paul Ferman, whose home was also designed by Brian, wrote: “No one could reimagine the future potential of an existing space like Brian. The generosity with which he shared his friends, contacts, connections and knowledge went from mundane practicalities to the sublime artistry of our best restorers and artisans he worked with (such as the amazing floor stainer who grew and pickled his own walnuts for his stains).”
Brian had a keen sense of proportion and scale due to his architectural training and was a modernist at heart. He started out studying architecture but dropped out before graduating. It was the late 70s and 80s, a time of exciting change that fitted Brian perfectly. In a complete turnaround, Brian shifted his focus to antiques and worked at Anne Schofield Antiques before setting up his own shop in Sydney’s Edgecliff.
He designed an apartment for himself on the top floor of the former tobacco bond building in Woollahra, above Anne’s shop, turning 12 small rooms into one large open space furnished sparingly and devoid of clutter with a considered mix of modern classics and select antiques. The house was published in 1984 and his future in design took off.
In 1985 Brian set up Sedia with friend Kim Snow. The distinctive showroom in Woolloomooloo was a forerunner in comfortable, well-designed seating, all covered in white cotton duck. It was a turning point for design in Sydney. He went on to create a stunning Rose Bay apartment filled with marvellous modernist furniture, Black Vanity boutique in The Strand Arcade, the original Bills restaurant in Darlinghurst with its influential use of the communal table marking a change in the way we dined, Fu Manchu (both versions) with interiors that reflected the southeast Asian menu, and Vera Cruz, as unpretentious in style as its Mexican fare.
Homes for friends followed, often with the master plan sketched and details scribbled on a napkin. But he had a creative approach to deadlines. “Where’s Brian?” was a familiar refrain, or “where are my plans?” He could disappear for days and his excuses for not delivering plans on time were creative and often made a great story, true or otherwise. A young Zoe Hoare adored being Brian’s sidekick, even if she had to field calls from clients madly searching for him.
Above all, Brian is remembered for his generosity. He loved meeting new people, connecting them, sharing his contacts, and encouraging and mentoring young design students. He had a desire to help people and make them happy. At the end, while gravely ill at St Vincent’s, Brian was still bringing people together: “You must meet…” or “you must visit…”, he would say. And from one of his visitors to the caring nursing staff: “Look after this one, he’s special.”
Special indeed. Vale, Brian.