Numero 184
Robi Colangelo
La Lettera Ponte
Robi Colangelo was born in Milan, Italy, and has been settling in Los Angeles for over a decade—an ongoing process. Her travels have taken her by motorcycle, car, train, and plane, often to destinations that weren’t exactly on the plan. She holds a degree in Fine Arts and certificates in Agile Management and Paralegal Studies, never seeing much reason to separate art from business. Her career is rooted in the vision of “promoting culture in accessible ways”—the guiding principle behind all her endeavors, from founding Focus Documentaries, a production and consulting company in partnership with a legal firm, to pivoting to higher education. Ultimately, she became the Chair of the Producing Department at the New York Film Academy and later the Associate Dean of Student Affairs and Faculty Development at the Southern California Institute of Technology. She has practiced ice skating, rock climbing, and bocce with her grandfather.
For the past decade, I’ve worked where learning design meets institutional change in higher education. I’ve been a faculty, department chair, and dean. Before that, I was in documentary production and distribution. Looking back, the thread is simple: I’ve always wanted to move culture forward—through learning, reflection, and the stories we share. That’s been the work. And the fun.
I did leave Italy, but not for the American Dream. It was never about a better place—more about expanding where I belong. I built a bridge between Italy and the U.S., and my first landing was Boston, in the ’90s. I was studying jazz (music has always been in the family) and realized I couldn’t understand it without standing where it came from. So I enrolled at Berklee College of Music. Later, work and family kept walking that bridge—first to New York, then to Los Angeles. I didn’t exactly choose L.A. She surprised me. She fits me. I fit her.
I don’t have one best memory. What I carry with me is a collection—small, unplanned moments across the many “villages in search of a city” that make up L.A. Conversations with strangers. Landscapes—some famous, some fleeting, like the purple luminescence of jacaranda trees in spring. A shared laugh in line. A kind question on the street. It still surprises me—this warmth, this effort toward connection—in a city known for its sprawl and for traveling alone in a car. That’s the memory: not a single scene, but the quiet insistence that people here still try to reach one another.
I chose the UCLA campus. It became my refuge during Covid–a place to walk, think, breathe. Any university campus, really, holds something I need: the tension between lifting thought and grounding it in responsibility, the fragile reminder that freedom of thought is meant to matter–for me and for others. It keeps me curious, asks me to develop values, and offers a way–however intangible–to contribute to the broader social fabric. It’s not a church. There’s no dogma. But it feels sacred.
As for the outfit, I chose this particular ensemble the way I do every day–compelled by the need for something that seamlessly carries me through an ordinary day, from a demanding work schedule into a happy hour, dinner, or event without missing a beat. Something elegant, professional, comfortable, yet with just enough rock & roll to keep it spicy. A kind of Monopoly free pass: you don’t need to go home and change–just a quick make-up touch-up and you’re ready to go. When Armani passed a few days ago, I felt it deeply. It made me see the roots of that instinct–his vision anchored in Milan itself. A balance of work and leisure, pragmatism and imagination. Something I absorbed almost without noticing, and something I carry with gratitude.
To me, ITALIANY.US feels like a repository of something quieter, but lasting. A kind of emigration that isn’t driven by survival or prosperity—but by meaning. For the chance to matter. And with it, a sense of gratitude. What moves me most is Alexo’s persistence. He kept going—often without the support this kind of work deserves. That vision, carried alone, becomes its own legacy. This isn’t just a project. It’s a footprint.
I’m not sure I would call myself an ambassador—certainly not of Italian style. I grew up in northern Italy, which is just one color of a much wider palette. But maybe that’s the point. Every Italian, wherever they’re from, carries a kind of toolbox—shaped by regional codes, emotional tones, ways of being—that can open space for dialogue. Italy leaves strong roots. Hard to shake. As for me, I just try to create conversations. I believe that through exchange, we mirror our values to one another—and in doing so, begin to see who we are, and who we might want to be.
“Adventure” is the only word that truly captures producing for me. It’s not just a job–it feels more like setting foot in a new country or stumbling through the first words of a new language. Every project asks me to step into the unknown, where the stakes are high, and the payoff is the chance to see the world differently.
Right now, I’m walking two very different paths. One is a science-social documentary that dares audiences to ask what human beings are really capable of. At its core, it asks: Can we build a “civilization 2.0”–a future where sustainability isn’t just survival, but progress? The other project is more intimate: a short narrative drama based on the life of a hostage negotiator. It flips the usual script of force and control. Instead, it reveals negotiation–and really, any conversation–as an act of vulnerability. Imagine a world where empathy is the sharpest tool in the room, where heroism looks less like dominance and more like the quiet courage to understand. For me, producing is about discovery. That’s what keeps it an adventure… every time!
