Every Fourth of July, our family tradition unfolds, layered in memories, stitched with love, and always full of red, white, and blue. For as long as I can remember, we’ve gathered on the same Rhode Island sidewalk in front of my aunt’s family's house, waving flags and cheering on the Bristol parade. It’s more than a celebration of independence — it’s a celebration of family.

My earliest memories of creativity trace back to a small, handcrafted wooden kitchen set built by my father, a proud, 100% Italian man who poured creativity into everything he did. That little kitchen became my first “studio,” a place where making wasn’t a task—it was simply part of life.