ARise
World-leading visual display company
About ARise
At ARise, we are not just developing Augmented Reality—we are laying the foundation for the next evolution of visual technology: true holographic displays.
Our work enhances existing AR solutions, refining the way digital content is presented. But our vision goes beyond AR.
We aim to create a seamless, independent holographic experience that removes the barriers between digital and physical worlds.
Our story
In 2017, under the dim glow of a luxury hotel bar, a magician posed a challenge to Layvonna—could illusion break free from the stage? That night, she conjured something extraordinary: a floating astronaut, suspended in light, a vision so seamless it blurred the line between magic and reality.
What began as a one-time spectacle ignited a revolution. ARise was born—a fusion of art, technology, and illusion, crafting breathtaking displays that exist beyond screens. From luxury experiences to futuristic learning, ARise is shaping a world where imagination takes form in light.
Not just an illusion. A new reality.
Products
Meet the Founder
Layvonna Hayashi
A scientist, innovator, and entrepreneur, Layvonna is redefining the way we interact with light and space. With a background in theoretical physics, she merges technology, illusion, and design to create breathtaking, screenless displays that feel almost otherworldly.Her journey began with a challenge—could an illusion exist beyond the stage? In a luxury hotel bar, she crafted her first breakthrough: a floating astronaut suspended in light, seamlessly blending reality and fantasy. That single moment ignited ARise, now a leader in visual technology, transforming how luxury, education, and entertainment embrace immersive displays.Driven by an insatiable curiosity and a vision for the future of digital interaction, Layvonna is pioneering a world where screens dissolve, and light becomes the medium of storytelling. This isn’t just innovation—it’s the future unfolding before our eyes.
Her Journey
GCSEs
“He didn’t ask me to repay him—he asked for my transcript.”
My journey in the UK began thanks to a man I deeply respect— Chairman Grandfather. Since I was a teenager, he supported my education abroad with no request for recognition, only one quiet promise: to study hard, and send him my report cards.
Each summer, he would visit and quiz me on history, politics, and whatever topic he thought would shape character. I grew up not just wanting to succeed—but to live up to his expectations.
From those early days of confusion in a new land, I rose steadily. I moved from general science to Triple Science, excelled in music despite starting from scratch, and ultimately earned a perfect-score essay in music theory. When my GCSE results came out, they reflected not just effort, but gratitude:
3 A** and 6 A*—a quiet answer to a man’s faith in me.
“When I had no one to talk to, the organ answered.”
At fifteen, I met the pipe organ, and it became my closest companion. My first piece was Bach’s Toccata in D minor (BWV 565)—a thunderous storm I could barely control at first, but learned to speak through. I was soon appointed the official organist of the school chapel, responsible for the solemn processional and recessional music at every weekly chapel service.
But behind the grandeur was loneliness.
I often practiced alone in the empty chapel, especially on winter afternoons when darkness fell early. After the final note echoed through the hall, I would close the lid, switch off the last light, and walk out—terrified of the shadows, sometimes even screaming from fear. I was just a girl, afraid of the dark… but I stayed. Because music listened when no one else did.
“A horse doesn’t submit to strength. It follows presence.”
I was introduced to horse riding during my school years, when every Friday, our teachers led us to the stables for training. In the beginning, it was painful—physically exhausting and mentally humbling. But week after week, I kept returning. I learned to read the horse, to hold my posture, to balance tension with grace.
It wasn’t about conquering. I learned that horses respond not to force, but to authority—the kind that comes from confidence, calm, and clarity. In learning to ride, I learned to lead—not just the horse, but eventually, teams, companies, and rooms.
A-Levels
“While most took three subjects, I chose more—because I never wanted to be average.”
During A-Level, I chose to study Mathematics, Further Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, Chinese, and also took an Extended Project Qualification (EPQ), all while serving as CFO of our school’s entrepreneurship company. I didn’t choose a light path, nor was I expected to. But I knew what I wanted: depth, versatility, and proof that I could handle complexity across disciplines.
“I wasn’t funded—I was followed.”
While others waited for pocket money, I built my own economy.
During A-Levels, I reactivated my online presence—once popular at 11, now reborn as a young woman with distinct style and quiet influence. Without advertising, my clothes started selling. Strangers bought them without asking the price. I rented pieces, curated drops, and ran it all myself—from sourcing to delivery.
At school, I became known not just for grades, but for fashion with value. I earned enough to cover all my and my friends expenses.
“I was already fainting—but I still delivered the order.”
The day I fulfilled that £6,000 orders, I was already on the edge of collapse. My body was shutting down. I could barely breathe. But the order had to go out. So I gritted my teeth, dragged the parcels up a long hill, then down a steep slope, then back up again—every step a war between will and weakness.
I completed the delivery.
Moments later, I was rushed to the hospital.
It was just months before my final A-Level exams.
Though I had already received offers from top universities, I could no longer sit all the final papers. I submitted coursework and past exams instead—consistently near-perfect—but incomplete. Some of my dream schools declined me, not because I lacked potential, but because I couldn’t physically prove it, on their terms.
“They didn’t ask for a grade. They already knew who I was.”
After being hospitalized and missing my final A-Level exams, I watched some of my dream schools turn me away.
Then came the letter.
King’s College London—one of the world’s leading universities—offered me an unconditional place.
No tests. No appeals. Just trust.
In that moment, I realised: real value doesn’t disappear when systems fail.
It waits to be seen by those who look deeper.
