I grew up on Long Island, New York, chasing light with whatever camera I could get my hands on — usually my mom's iPhone, pointed at trees, flowers, anything that looked different in the afternoon sun. I was maybe ten or eleven.
In 2014, my father's job relocated our family to Ohio. Adjusting to a new home taught me plenty, but one thing followed me through it: the camera never stopped feeling like mine.
I studied finance at Ohio State, earning a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration, and along the way found a second home with FinMango.org, a financial health nonprofit working to build real economic resilience for communities across Ohio and around the world. That work shaped how I think about impact — small, consistent actions compounding into something people can actually feel.
Photography has stayed the constant. It's not something I do instead of everything else — it's something I do alongside it, because putting a frame around a moment is still the clearest way I know how to say: this mattered.
The name comes from my family. Growing up, "a la famiglia" was what we'd say before sitting down together to eat — our Italian roots showing up in the smallest, most repeated moment of the day. The spelling isn't quite the Italian "alla famiglia" — that gap wasn't intentional, just a younger version of me not knowing better. But it stuck, and now it's ours. This is where that instinct — gathering people around something worth sharing — finally gets a home outside my own hard drive.
Bridgette is an artist, designer, and human. At eighteen, she left home and toured the U.S. with the circus. She later opened Void, a progressive coffee shop in Elk City, West Virginia.
Her work moves through automatic drawing and intuition — surrealist charcoal drawings and paintings that pull technology's irony and progression into design.
She studied at CU Denver's College of Architecture + Planning.
Anthony sets the course — what gets made, who it's for, and why it matters enough to make.
Bridgette gives it form — how it looks, how it's built, and how it holds together once it's real.
The name the work goes out under — credited to no one alone.