From soldering needles to crafting icons, Simone D’Alessio—aka El Rana—tells his journey through silver, symbols, and soul
Behind every line etched in silver, there’s a pulse. Behind every sacred heart, a real one has broken and rebuilt itself. Simone D’Alessio, born in 1973 and known today in the tattoo world as El Rana, has fused skin, metal, and memory into a lifelong journey of artisanal creation. His hands first touched the soul of tattooing as a boy, spotting mysterious inkings on strangers—imperfect, even crude—but to his young eyes, utterly magnetic.
At fifteen, grieving the loss of his father, Simone began working as a goldsmith. Fate stepped in when a co-worker revealed his tattoos came from Maurizio Fiorini, a legendary artist. One visit to Fiorini’s studio and Simone was hooked—not just on the art of tattooing, but on the energy, the stories, the culture surrounding it. By 17, he was soldering needles and learning the craft under Fiorini’s guidance. Though he’d later leave tattooing behind as a practitioner, his intellectual and emotional tether to the scene only grew stronger.
In the mid-90s, with encouragement from Fiorini and fellow icon Gippi Rondinella, Simone began channeling his creativity into silver jewelry inspired by tattoo symbolism. His earliest pieces—especially the Sacred Heart—were unheard of at the time. Today, they echo across runways and mass markets, but back then, they were pure innovation. Fueled by faith, grief, and a deep love for sacred iconography, El Rana’s work grew organically.
By the early 2000s, he was designing awards for tattoo conventions, meeting international icons like Mao from Madrid and Robert Hernandez through his close friend Carlo Fastcolors, and carrying his handcrafted silver into expos and tattoo parlors around the world.
But El Rana is not a brand built on hype. It’s a quiet revolution of metal and meaning. Now, in July 2025, he continues working with a reduced, loyal team of four. He crafts only on commission—trophies, home decor, and jewelry for those who truly get it. His wife, once his first helper, remains by his side. The community, the ink, the devotion—they’re all still here.
And as Simone says: “Non esistono i self-made.” Gratitude is etched in everything he does.
Q&A with El Rana
Your hands have soldered needles and sculpted silver. What’s the difference between tattooing skin and tattooing metal?
They’re both beautiful and creative, but tattooing is so final—it used to give me anxiety back in the ’90s. Now, if I make a mistake in silver, I can start again. It feels right for me.
The Sacred Heart became your signature. Why did you choose that as your first motif?
My obsession with religious iconography. I was already collecting it—and tattooed with it. It’s a symbol I absolutely adore. I didn’t overthink it.
The Madgleains feel like forgotten icons from another time. How were they born?
My wife and I wanted to create a feminine line of bags that still carried our DNA. They’ve taken off, and we’re so proud of them.
Each of your pieces feels like it came from a secret drawer or an altar. How do you choose your subjects?
I avoid trends and influences. I make what comes to me—pure instinct. If I like it, I make it. That’s it.
Skulls, eyes, hands, crosses… These are symbols, but they seem like stories. What do they tell?
They tell my story. Ex-votos, graces received… I once survived a serious accident. Everything I create holds pieces of that survival. Those who know me deeply understand.
You work only by commission. What happens when a client brings you an idea?
We start with their vision—it has to come from them, like tattoos did. These are handcrafted works. Overly “artistic” stuff ruins it. I add a bit of me, but always with their approval.
What makes a ring truly successful to you—form or energy?
Both. Plus how many people buy it. If it’s appreciated, then I know I did something good.
Your pieces feel like they hold power. What should someone feel when wearing them?
Honestly? Nothing too deep. It’s an ornament—something that makes you feel seen and represented. It’s still just a ring.
You’ve created awards for international tattoo conventions. What shifts when a piece becomes a trophy?
It’s amazing. You give a piece of yourself to your community and it brings joy. I love that part of my work.
Your collections don’t follow seasons. How do you know when something is ready for your e-shop?
I don’t follow any calendar. If I think of something in October, I make it. Maybe I’ll drop one piece at a time—zero marketing plans. Just intuition.
Who buys El Rana today? Do you have an ideal customer in mind?
At first, only tattoo lovers. Now it’s wider—maybe too wide. But I never design thinking of what people want. I make what I want and go from there. I only take commissions for one-offs—those are tailored.
What does the word “artisan” mean to you? Does it fit?
It’s perfect. I’m a creative, yes—but mostly I’m an artisan. “Artist” and “genius” get thrown around too easily. I’m just a lucky guy who worked hard and had support. Artisan work is the top. The rest? Doesn’t interest me.
