Words Billie Brand
Photography Ellen Christina Hancock
Production Harry Cave

“It’s part of the family,” says artist Laila Tara H of the Edwardian building that houses her apartment in Golders Green, north-west London. It has been a member of her clan since the 1960s, she says, when her grandparents bought it upon emigrating from Iran. The townhouse had already been divided into flats, which was unusual for the time, and Laila has lived on many of its levels over the course of her life. “When I was a kid, my parents and I had the ground floor; then as a teenager I was in the loft,” she says. Now, at the age of 27, she calls the apartment on its first floor home. “Both my mum and uncle once lived here too. We’ve all made it our own.” For Laila, that means a living space that doubles as her studio, defined by the glow of candlelight, sentimental objects and a warm yet minimal aesthetic.

As an artist, Laila portrays pocket-sized diary entries on to handmade hemp paper. The technique she has honed is a hybrid style of 17th-century Indian and Persian miniature painting. It’s a beautiful homage to her Iranian heritage, so it feels fitting that she does it from her family home. “I like living with my work,” she explains. “A lot of people say your work/life balance is super important and you should separate the two, but my work is my life and vice versa. It can become all-encompassing – and I love that.” Having tidied away her paints and brushes, Laila shows us around her space and shares her House Style.

How would you describe the interiors of your home?
Controlled but comfortable; minimal but warm.

My home feels like a cupboard: it’s full of objects but they are placed in an orderly fashion. The base is extremely minimal; the tables, the sofa and the walls are naked in their simplicity and then my ceramics and books clothe them. I’m an object baby, but I also love to have space. I like to know there’s room on my surfaces as walls for more, as I host my paintings here. I love when people come to see my work – I’ll make coffee or lunch and it can be a very intimate thing.

In the evening, however, it is all about the light. I have many candles and lamps dotted around. Light creates a separation between a space that’s domestic and one that’s commercial. The former is warmer; it has more of an orange glow. When I was younger, we moved around a lot for my parents’ work and a lot of countries we stayed in were prone to power cuts. They could go on for 12 hours! You relied on a generator if you had one – or candles. My love for candles stems from that. They were my core lighting system growing up.

You’re happiest at home when…
I’ve been preparing to host a dinner party.

There’ll be bags of groceries spread across the table, oven dishes on the counter. I like to create a space that guests feel comfortable in. I’ll double check the location of each lamp and test the placement of each chair, so people can come in just plonk themselves down. We eat, we drink. It’s messy: there’s rice on the floor. Though in fact, one of my favourite moments is when everyone has retreated back home. The chaos is subdued and the dishwasher is full. I like to stand in the kitchen and feel the warmth of company with the last of the candles.

If you could save one thing, what would it be?
Cruel question. No man is left behind.

What is your favourite living space around the world?
Any living space created by my mum, no matter the continent.

Every two years, my parents and I would in a different country, but my mum was always adamant that wherever we would lived, our home would have the same feeling. It was important that there was a consistency of cosiness and objects. There are some things we’ve had in our lives since I was tiny and there are things that we’ve collected along the way, but all our belongings have sentimental value.

My mum collects beautiful wooden furniture. We lived in India when I was very young and she sourced a few things from there that I’d feel incomplete without, such as our Indian drinks cabinet, for instance. It has tones of soft olive and deep red and has beautiful hand-painted elephants on. We’ve had it restored over the years. I also have an Indian cabinet in my apartment that is really important to me. It’s like a box on legs and it’s beautifully painted too. We have lots of traditional Iranian paintings too. That’s why I paint the way I paint and why I am the way I am, because everything is inspired by home. Now my parents have retired and spend their time between London and Tehran, but both places still have that same feeling of ultimate cosiness and beautiful clutter.

What was the last thing that you brought for the house?
My EJR Barnes candle lamp.

It’s my favourite object at the moment. It has a steel geometric lampshade but it doesn’t use a bulb – there’s just space for a candle. It’s to die for. When Elliot [Barnes] came by to drop it off, I showed him the tall candle I wanted to put in it. He said, “Laila. Stop. It’s going to get really hot if you put a that candle in there.” I thought to myself, “Ooh! I could practically fry an egg on it.” Now I love it even more.

Top three coffee table books?
I like to call them coffee table blocks, as they’re so chunky.

I like to have a base of hefty art-related books, best found at local charity shops, with a magazine or two piled on top – something more approachable, lighter in the hand and easier to flick through, such as an issue of The World of Interiors. Three of my favourite tombes include the Museum of Modern Art’s book on Paul Klee, Costume Patterns and Designs by Max Karl Tilke, and Goya by Enrique Lafuente Ferrari.

If money was no object, what changes would you make?
I’d create an orchard outside.

This block of houses used to be one. In the neighbours’ gardens there were pear, apple and plum trees, which they have been chopping down over the years in favour of easy space. I’d buy all the houses, get rid of the lawns, knock back the extensions and replant the orchard.

You’re having people over for dinner: what do you cook?
Rice. There’s always rice.

There are always so many plates on the table that there’s hardly any room for glasses. There are a lot of platters being passed from one person to another. I’d have a huge quantity of Persian rice, with a crisp layer of tahdig on top. Chances are, I would have called someone in the morning to ask what they are craving, then I’ll feed them to the very brim. The food and the serving and dinnerware are equally important, though.

Last week I hosted a dinner and served saffron rice with potato tahdig with saffron barberries on top. I also made a variation on chicken raan, with red cabbage, red onion, sumac, and served it with orange salad covered in pomegranate and chutney dressing, garlic yoghurt with spiced chickpeas and crispy kale and, for extra points, a very indulgent cheesy herb and leek tart.

What does Sunday here look like?
Sundays are for mindless making.

Sunday morning demands orange juice on the terrace, while I scrutinise the plants. I also like to take a break from the inside, with a walk around Hampstead Heath or a swim in its ponds. But in the afternoon, things settle into focus. I find the best day to paint is Sunday, as it is the most muted of the week.

What are the best things about the neighbourhood?
I love north-west London. When I’m here, I feel like I’m being hugged.

I’m a 15-minute walk to the heath, a five-minute drive to the heart of Hampstead or Highgate and a two-minute walk to the bakery that serves the softest and sweetest challah bread.