Hatter

Despite being anonymous, HATTER is very much present. His work isn’t locked in museums or lost in the algorithm. It shows up in alleys, in basements, on sidewalks. But it also shows up in homes, as prints, as layered mixed media pieces, as full-colour declarations that you can actually buy. Not because art should be owned, but because maybe it should be shared. And occasionally, framed. His canvases are not polite. They don’t match the couch. They tell stories you might not want to hear — about ego, identity, madness, and that thin red line between genius and graffiti. But they’re honest. Raw. And a little unhinged. Like the man who made them. If there is a man. Or a woman. Or maybe just a very clever hat.