Years ahead of earning a reputation for redefining Chinese cuisine in Petaling Jaya, Andy Ong was making a name for himself behind a very different kind of setup: one involving a camera and bright lights. 

A calling born at the dining table
“I was about three feet tall — the same height as our dining table,” Andy recalls. It was at that table, while his father read the Nanyang Siang Pau each morning, that young Andy first noticed something curious: the photos in the paper were sharp and cinematic — a stark contrast to the blurry snapshots his brother took of him. That small but striking difference lit a spark.

At school, Andy gravitated towards the arts. He failed the SRP twice but found his rhythm after transferring to a private school where supportive teachers helped him thrive. He knew he wasn’t cut out for a routine nine-to-five, but the creative path made sense.

“I was about three feet tall — the same height as our dining table”

After secondary school, Andy set his sights on Japan. A joint programme between Malaysia and Japan allowed students to work while studying. There was just one hurdle: he had no money for tuition or a flight ticket. Friends and family chipped in for his course fees, but the airfare was still out of reach…until a visit to the Dato Gong temple in Tambun changed everything. Andy received a set of lucky numbers, placed a bet, and won RM3,000 — just enough for a one-way flight to Tokyo.

The bustle behind the hustle

In Japan, Andy first attended a language school, as he needed to master Japanese before he could enroll in a diploma course. During that time, he worked gruelling shifts: dragging frozen chicken cartons at a burger factory by day, and pulling late hours at a ramen shop by night — sometimes until 5am, and then head to class at 8am.

Originally set on graphic design, Andy changed course after discovering the school’s commercial photography programme. The newspaper images he once admired came rushing back. He knew this was what he wanted to pursue.

He bought his first camera, a Nikon F801, and immersed himself in the fundamentals: studying, shooting, developing film, and honing techniques under a Japanese mentor. On weekends, he and a classmate from Hong Kong would explore galleries, building their portfolios and training their eyes.

From C-student to top graduate
With limited access to the school’s studio, Andy saved up to buy a large-format camera and basic lights. He converted a small corner near his accommodation into a makeshift studio, testing shots with Polaroids before committing to film — a time-consuming but efficient method that gave him full control.

Grades were average in his first semester. But Andy doubled down — studying harder, experimenting more. To cover expenses, he also took on a job delivering newspapers. The job came with a bed in a basic dorm by a cemetery and no shower. Andy relied on public coin-operated showers, rationing hot water with military precision.

He’d start his days at 4am, cycling through Tokyo’s empty streets. In that stillness, something clicked. The silence sharpened his senses. He began noticing the geometry of alleyways, vending machine silhouettes, the way dawn light fell on pavements — details that soon made their way into his photography.

By the next semester, Andy had become a top scorer. He graduated top of his class and earned a place in the school’s prestigious year-end exhibition in Ginza.

He’d start his days at 4am, cycling through Tokyo’s empty streets. In that stillness, something clicked.

A detour home, and a new beginning
A studio in Tokyo offered him a job, but without a local degree or Japanese spouse, his visa application was denied. With RM12,000 in savings and a diploma in hand, Andy returned home, unsure of what came next — but ready to find out.

He explored opportunities in London and Singapore before settling back in Malaysia. After short stints with local studios, he began freelancing: weddings, events, product shoots. Bit by bit, he built up a client base and opened his own studio in SS2, Petaling Jaya.

His work stood out for its Japanese lighting techniques — particularly his use of tracing paper to soften shadows, a stark contrast to the harsher styles that dominated at the time. His first clients included department stores like Isetan, Sogo and Parkson.

Soon, Andy’s reputation grew. He began collaborating with fashion magazines, top designers, stylists, and beauty teams. His photos appeared in billboards, catalogues and campaigns across the region.

The shift from shooting to cooking
Andy’s photography career took him places, most frequently to Hong Kong and China, where he worked with major fashion and retail brands. His work was in demand, appearing in high-profile campaigns and lookbooks.

But after nearly two decades, something changed. Clients became less organised, timelines shorter, and the joy of the craft began to fade. “It was never just about the money,” Andy says. “I needed to feel proud of the work.”

That longing for purpose brought him back to his other great love: food. What began as casual meals for friends and staff in his studio slowly grew into something more. And just like he once did behind the lens, Andy poured himself into the kitchen — with no shortcuts, full creative control, and an uncompromising respect for technique and quality. This is the very philosophy that guides him at Xip Wah Lau, where he offers both à la carte dining and omakase.

The tools of his trade may have changed, but his artistry remains. Whether capturing light through a lens or coaxing flavour from a flame, Andy’s aim is to be a master of the craft.