Passion is often what lights up our days and turns routine into creativity. For Daniele, his passion for bicycles is yes, a hobby, but it is also much more than that: it is the engine that drives him to hand-weld steel racks, to spend hours after work turning an idea into a tangible object.
Let’s start from the beginning. Who is Daniele, even before Reframe Steel? Tell us something about yourself and about what you do in your everyday life.
I’ve always had a passion for mechanics, whether it was vintage cars, motorcycles, or bicycles. I like figuring things out on my own, understanding how things work and trying to repair them by finding solutions to even the simplest problems. Bicycles were the most affordable starting point for me: I used to look for frames and components destined for the landfill and give new life to objects with a glorious past. I spent hours in the garage thinking about setups and builds, trying to spend as little as possible.
Then I discovered old French randonneur bikes, with those unique racks and pannier supports that perfectly completed the overall aesthetic. That’s when a real passion was born. I searched the web for these masterpieces and, when I realized that most of them were handmade, I decided to get resourceful and learn how to bend tubes. I signed up for a welding course, another skill I had wanted to learn for a long time, and I started experimenting endlessly, throwing away a huge amount of material.
After weeks of testing, I built my first rudimentary racks. The workmanship was terrible, but I liked the aesthetic result, so I decided to keep going. In ten years I’ve gone through ten different tube benders and four welding machines. A lot of money spent, but the satisfaction kept growing. I managed to build something of my own, figuring things out by myself, alone, in my garage.
This attitude and enthusiasm for new projects also helped me in my real job: from being a simple factory worker, I became responsible for a small production unit in a lighting company. Today I ride less due to some physical issues. Years ago I did a few trips, successfully testing my racks. Now I still use the bike as a commuter for my daily ride to work, and I still enjoy building new projects on rainy days and over the weekend. For now, I’ve replaced cycling as a sport with trail running.
“My garage is my refuge after work. Sometimes I go down there just to think, listen to music, and imagine new projects.”
How did the bicycle become part of your journey? Reframe Steel was born as an “after-work” project. What does this time stolen from your free hours represent for you? Is it a creative refuge, a necessity, a way to refocus after work?
It’s a necessity. I’ve always needed to work with my hands, to be involved in new projects, whether it’s a new bike built to my taste or a piece of furniture for the house made of steel and wood. My girlfriend asks me to go to IKEA, and I answer: “I can make it better and tailor-made!”
The garage is my refuge after weeks of stress at work. Sometimes I go down there just to think about a new project and listen to music. It’s my playground, where I gather ideas: dirty, cold, and dark. I cut, bend, weld, file. And on the walls I can hang hardware store calendars and stick my collection of stickers.
Why steel? What fascinates you about this material, and what does it allow you to express that other materials don’t?
Stainless steel, because it’s durable and resistant to salinity. It’s a damn hard material to work with, because the more you heat it, the harder it becomes. But when I polish it, it gives me a sense of cleanliness and strength that I don’t see in any other material. It doesn’t need paint; it’s raw and honest, no frills.
Your racks are often unique, custom-made pieces. How important is the dialogue with the person who will use the rack? Is it more of a technical job or a creative collaboration?
It’s the fundamental part of the work. Often I’m contacted to make a rear rack that simply needs to support two panniers, but I prefer to meet the “client” to discuss the construction, and new ideas often come out of that. I want to work directly on the bike to evaluate the overall shape: tire clearance, the design of the rear triangle or stays. I like to think of dressing frames and making a bike unique, knowing it will be the means of transport for a journey lasting weeks or even months. Friendships have grown out of this, and that’s what gratifies me the most: Giulia and her trip to Armenia, Alessio and Kenya, Fra hosted in Milan, Luca and Cuba, Davide and his trip around the world.
Was there a moment when you realized that what you were doing had value for others too, not just for yourself? An order, a message, a bike you saw around that made you think you were on the right path.
Luca, a mechanical engineer working in the aerospace sector in Modena, called me to design a front rack for his travels. Of course, not a simple rack: it had to be modular, with parts that could be removed depending on needs, and it had to support a certain weight. I asked him, “Why would someone like you come to me to solve a problem?” He answered that he couldn’t figure it out on his own and needed help. That’s the first example that comes to mind because it really marked me. From that moment on, I understood that I could be useful to someone through my passion. It’s an extreme case, I know, but it really happened.
“The welds have to stay visible. They’re part of the story, part of the process. I like things raw and honest.”
What is your relationship with imperfection and handmade work? In your work, do you seek absolute precision, or do you leave room for those small marks that tell the story of the process and of time?
Sometimes I try to be extremely precise, but then I clash with the difficulty of TIG welding 10 mm diameter tubes. Other times, I focus more on the overall aesthetic and care less about the details. It depends on the day, but the pieces that end up on my personal bikes are always imperfect, poorly welded, and raw. I don’t even polish them. The welds have to be visible, rusty.
Your creations are made to travel, to carry weight, to accompany adventures. What kind of cycling do you feel closest to your way of being?
I fight bikepacking with old-school cycle touring, always keeping a close eye on aesthetics.
How do you see Reframe in the coming years? Do you have any plans for the future?
There’s a great song that often echoes in my head:
“Study mathematics, but buy yourself a violin.
Learn how to work with wood, how to fix what breaks.
Because you never know in life, a talent always comes in handy.”
