Is what we call a good painting. Because it's all about the hat. And you can't go wrong painting dogs or hats. Look at that hat. That's a hat. A hat-and-a-half, actually. We like to think that the guy showed up with a small hat, and Brouwer threw a fit. "You call zat a hat?" he cried. "I vant beeger! Beeeeger!" Face it, Brouwer couldn't give a shit about the guy. The guy is just a prop for the hat. He is not wearing the hat; the hat is wearing him. The hat is the star. The hat is what's going to pack them into the museum. The hat has a star quality that even now, centuries later, has the ability to mesmerize. "Look at that hat!" you're probably thinking. Even the guy, who in his one chance at painting immortality gets shown up by a hat, looks happy to be wearing the hat. Brouwer, you are a genius. You painted the hat. You understood the hat. You saw the hat. While everybody else was off painting stupid religious paintings, you painted the hat. And in so doing, you didn't just make art. You made art-for-the-hat's sake.