Step into a London cafe and suddenly you are transported: a kampung house rises on stilts and banana trees sway as if in the evening breeze.
In another eatery, the Petronas Twin Towers gleam above a tropical horizon.
These scenes are not photographs but murals — alive with memory and colour — created by Ayesha Ariff, a Malaysian-born, London-raised artist who paints her roots across the walls of her adopted city.
When 10-year-old Ayesha left her kampung-style home in Ipoh in 2007, she carried with her a wealth of memories: lush green fields, limestone hills standing tall against the skyline and evenings spent on her grandmother’s porch listening to the call of the azan for Maghrib prayers.
Now, at 28 and armed with a degree in interior architecture from London Metropolitan University, she is transforming those memories into brushstrokes that build small but powerful pockets of Malaysia in the heart of London.
Her journey as an artist began almost by accident.
“I started painting windows at Christmas in 2023, just before I graduated, to earn some extra pocket money,” she said.
“Demand was high and people wanted seasonal art. It carried on from there. By January, I was getting bookings for murals.”
Within months, her work had spread from shopfronts to schools and even to iconic buildings such as the Shard.
By early 2024, she was being commissioned for large-scale projects — including her first Malaysian-themed mural at Dapur cafe in central London, followed soon after by another nostalgia-filled piece at My Kampung in Bayswater.
At Dapur, Ayesha merged her training in architecture with her love of nature — hibiscus blooms frame the shimmering towers of Kuala Lumpur, while tropical foliage breathes life into the walls.
“I wanted people who had never visited Malaysia to see the amazing architecture we have and also the richness of our flora.
“Some of my friends don’t know much about Malaysia, so I tried to marry the two — buildings and flowers — to give them a sense of the country.”
For My Kampung, she turned to deeply personal memories.
“I grew up in a kampung house near Gerup in Ipoh. The banana trees, the rusty zinc roof, the limestone hills — those were the colours of my childhood.”
The client wanted diners to feel as though they had stepped straight into a Malaysian village, and Ayesha delivered.
The mural glows with the hues of a kampung evening sky — orange and pink at Maghrib — and carries details both tender and true — a swaying palm tree, a humble clothesline, bananas ripening in three-dimensional form.
Above, handcrafted wau hover from the ceiling, each painted in authentic patterns and colours after careful research.
Even the smallest touches are drawn from her heart.
“Every time I get creative freedom, I try to incorporate something Malaysian. It’s my way of keeping home alive.”
For Ayesha, the work is more than decoration; it is a dialogue between her past and her present, her roots and her life in London.
The scent of food drifting from the kitchens mingles with the colours of her murals, amplifying the sense of place.
Diners often pause to ask about the kampung house, the wau bulan or the bunga raya.
In those moments, the murals become more than art: they are conversation starters, lessons and cultural bridges.
As Malaysia celebrates National Day, Ayesha’s work is a poignant reminder that patriotism is not confined to parades or borders — it can be found in the crimson of a hibiscus, in the orange glow of a kampung sunset or in the humble kampung house reborn on a London cafe wall.
“I feel a lot of pride. Knowing that I can bring my roots into this country — that there are pockets of Malaysia here in London where people can experience our colours, our culture, our stories,” Ayesha said.
For Malaysians abroad, her murals are a homecoming.
For Londoners, they are an invitation — to step into the warmth, vibrancy and spirit of Malaysia.
© New Straits Times Press (M) Bhd
