The Creative Alchemy of Stephanie Gwee
- Leah Morris
- Oct 3
- 4 min read

Interview by Leah Morris.
Stephanie Gwee has spent her career turning chaos into campaigns that land strong. From journalism to Asia’s top agencies and now as Creative Director at TBWA\ Melbourne, Steph oversees work for Nissan, Telstra, and Specsavers across Australia and New Zealand, all while championing inclusive talent programs and real cultural change.
Just quietly, she was the most awarded creative at Effie 2018, Singapore’s first-ever Grand Prix winner at The One Show, and recipient of The One Show’s Next Creative Leader Award 2022.
Far from done, Steph is proof that being ‘Good and Nice’ isn’t just ‘corporate Kool-Aid pumped through the water-cooler systems’ of her former agency home, BBH. It’s a career-defining way to make work that moves people.
You started out as an Account Executive and you’re now Creative Director at TBWA\Australia. How long did it take you to build your impressive career, and who or what helped guide you along the path?
My career’s been less of a straight line, more of a drunk scribble.
I started in journalism, covering everything from tech to true crime. It taught me how to find stories fast, write tighter, and ask better questions.
After three years, I wanted to do something more creative. So I got the first advertising job I could: Account Executive. It was there I learned three key things: how agencies work, that I’d rather write headlines than briefs, that life is better if I never had to open up Excel again. Lucky that I realised these in two short months.
So I reset, applied for a creative internship at Saatchi & Saatchi Singapore, and got incredibly lucky with my first creative bosses – Andy Greenaway, Bruce Matchett and especially Jennie Morris. Jennie taught me what an idea actually is, spent time giving me copy feedback, and basically built the creative backbone I rely on today. Without her, I’d be out there pitching manifestos held together with hope and duct tape.
Five years at Saatchi led to another seven years at BBH, where I learned that ‘Good & Nice’ wasn’t just a tagline, it could be a way to lead. They gave me the chance to work on some of the biggest global brands, shaped my love for strategic thinking – giving me the springboard to head to Melbourne and do it all again here.
Was there much difference between the industry here and in Singapore? How did you find the transition?
In Asia, standing out is expected – it’s how you get ahead. In Australia, standing out too much feels borderline offensive. There’s a kind of national allergy to self-promotion, thanks to Tall Poppy syndrome. It was interesting observing the shift from “look at this brilliant thing I made” to more of a “yeah nah, just had a crack at it” energy. It is refreshing to just let the work speak for itself.
The fundamentals are the same between both markets. Everyone knows everyone. Award shows feel like big weddings where you sort of know everyone at the table but can’t remember how. Budgets are tighter, timelines are shorter, and clients everywhere are trying to sell more with less. But creatives are creatives, we all just want to make the best possible work, and occasionally set something on fire in the process.
What’s different is the creative lens. Singapore taps into a broader cultural pool – Thai ads, for instance, are gloriously unhinged in the best way. Australia brings strong focus on craft, true partnership with clients, healthy work life balance, and a real investment in talent through Award School, This Way Up and the like.
It took a minute to adjust, but now I try to bring the chaos of one and the calm of the other into everything I do.
Which piece (or pieces) of work are you most proud of?
I’m proudest of two kinds of work: the kind that solves problems in unexpected ways, and the kind that drives change beyond the brief.
A recent example is a campaign we created for the Nissan Patrol. To get people talking about its off-road power - not just in specs, but in spirit. We hid a brand-new Patrol somewhere in Australia and challenged people to find it and keep it. Pulling it off was complex: from logistics and legal hurdles to safety planning and digital integration. But the result was something no media plan could buy - cultural relevance and real-world engagement.
I’m equally proud of the initiatives I’ve helped build. At BBH Singapore, I was part of the team that launched The Barn – a fully bias-free internship program with a blind application process and proper salary, so access was based on talent, not privilege. And I’ve helped shape agency mental health policies. Pushing for things like agency-sponsored therapy, mental health days, and better parental leave. Because culture doesn’t come from posters in the kitchen, or the weekly free yoga session in the boardroom. It comes from policies people feel.
What do you love most about creative communications?
One day I found myself in a brainstorm, trying to figure out what an animated banana should sound like, and I thought, “Holy shit, we get paid to do this.”
Moments like that remind me our worst days in advertising still beat a great day doing almost anything else.
What I love most is the alchemy of it all – throw a bunch of curious humans into a room, toss in a problem, and watch chaos slowly shape into an idea. The creative process is messy, ridiculous, full of self-doubt, but very oftentimes magical. Somehow, all of our collective life experiences, the random things we’ve seen, done or Googled at 2am, in other words: the people that we ARE, end up feeding the work we do. That’s the joy: turning life’s nonsense into something that moves people.
Is there a piece of advice or wisdom you can share with our readers that has served you well in your career?
Know the difference between being protective of your ideas and being precious about them. It’s a subtle but career-defining distinction.
In this business, resilience is everything. If you cling too tightly to one idea without real rhyme or reason, any feedback or change can feel like an attack. And suddenly, you’re stuck, unable to see a better way forward.
It’s not just unproductive, it’s exhausting. Great creatives learn to care deeply about the work, without falling apart when it evolves.



