Confessions of a Haberdasher | by Chandler Baird Scott | Tatton Baird Hatters
Posted on September 30 2016
I first met Jeff at University. I am a bit younger, but he and I had similar upbringings and parallel interests. We became dear friends and have remained so for decades. As long as I have known him, his obsession with art, history, travel and the motorcycle have been a constant. His clients have been Champions of Industry, the Finest of Collectors and Racers of Yesteryear.
He grew up in So Cal with a family of craftsmen who fostered his whimsical ambitions. He is a lover of quality and cleverness, and spent all his extra time scouring the country for treasures and stories. He has always believed that surrounding himself with beauty would enrich his life. Creating sculpture seemed to be the only thing he felt to be worthwhile. We started a long time ago going to swap meets, not art shows, where we set up a mini gallery and were so out of place it was laughable, yet it made sense to him. He was Jack in the Beanstalk, trading his wares not for money, but the seeds of motorcycles that would become giants. It's been like printing his own money ever sense.
He feels the motorcycle is more relevant than the horse to the American psyche and has created and oeuvre to make his point. He is the only sculptor to be endorsed by the most American of motorcycle companies and his largest monument graces their museum grounds.
His studio is a menagerie of personal inspiration that he feeds upon and is constantly feeding. It is a private space but feels curated to help others understand his mania. I can speak to you about Jeff the sculptor, but his art will speak to better than he or any of his friends can. It gives me pride to share my craft of building hats with a friend, an artist and style icon such as Jeff.