The Full Story of RareHaus
, by Chaos Agent , 4 min reading time
This isn’t a brand. It’s a blueprint for what should’ve existed all along.
We didn’t build RareHaus because we wanted to sell merch. We built it because we were tired of watching people with real talent get erased by a system that only rewards compliance. Because we were those people. Students. Artists. Builders. Outsiders. Watching our creative instincts get bent into shapes that looked good on paper but left us hollow inside.
We’ve seen the damage. We’ve worked in higher education. We’ve seen students pushed into debt for degrees that didn’t teach them how to survive as creatives—only how to perform for grades, for resumes, for institutions that never planned to hire them. We’ve seen brilliant people burn out before they ever got a shot. People with ideas that could’ve changed industries, but were told to “refine their concept” until it disappeared.
And we saw the other side of that manipulation too—the story so many of us were fed in the 80s and 90s: that trade work was failure. That if you didn’t go to college, you were destined to be broke, stupid, or stuck. So we all went. Tens of thousands in debt, chasing stability while watching our own hands grow softer and our minds grow more anxious.
Here’s the truth: if someone had told us there was another path, some of us might’ve been woodworkers. Carpenters. Finishers. Builders of things you can actually touch.
But that wasn’t presented as noble. It was painted as dirty. Lesser. Disposable. And now? We’re paying the price for that lie. Craftsmanship is vanishing. The trades are disappearing at record rates.
And nobody’s training the next generation. We’re losing the very skills that used to define American excellence—wood joinery, carving, furniture finishing, decorative plaster, artisan fabrication. The stuff we once passed down with pride is now outsourced, plastic-wrapped, and sold for speed.
RareHaus was created as an antidote to all of that. This isn’t just a brand. This is a test site for a different way forward—especially for students and creatives who haven’t had the luxury of time, money, or connections to figure it out “the normal way.”
We give them room to try before they buy into an education that might not serve them. Room to test ideas, build collections, sell real work, and learn how the infrastructure of creativity actually functions.
We run multiple initiatives:
- The Student Collection, which gives student artists 4-month sales cycles with mentorship, commission payouts, portfolio content, and a final coaching session.
- The Candle of Burning Out™, a permanent fundraising product that honors the students who gave too much to a system that gave too little. 100% of profits go toward emergency student support—rent, food, therapy, and survival.
- Artist Collaborations, where we work with overlooked talent to produce meaningful, unapologetic merch that doesn’t water down the message to make it palatable.
- Protest Apparel, like our RAGE line—because being “non-political” in this era is just another word for complicit.
And that’s just the beginning. The long-term RareHaus vision lives on a 60+ acre property in the Appalachian South. A full creative site, off-grid and solar powered.
A 60,000 sqft. facility at the center, a flexible gallery and event spaces, twelve public-access collaboration studios, and a commissary store. An outdoor amphitheater with space for a thousand people.
Airbnb-style accommodations for artists, educators, travelers, and weirdos who need a weekend to remember who they are. Separate housing for long-term residencies and RareHaus staff—because infrastructure should never rely on burnout to run.
This isn’t some boho fantasy. It’s a living, working ecosystem. One that doesn’t demand a degree, a follower count, or permission to exist. Because maybe you’re not a fine artist. Maybe you’re a welder with vision. A printmaker with rage. A florist who sees design better than any interior architect. Maybe you’ve got a skill you haven’t even named yet—because nobody ever gave you a place to try it.
That’s what RareHaus is for. We don’t believe success should be locked behind academic paywalls. We don’t believe passion should be punished. And we sure as hell don’t believe you have to go into debt to prove you have value. We believe the next Renaissance isn’t going to come from a university. It’s going to come from people who finally had the space to make something real.
Indoor plumbing didn’t happen because someone went with the flow. It happened because someone saw a problem and refused to keep shitting in a bucket. Streetlights weren’t invented by someone who liked the dark. And the internet didn’t start with an ad budget—it started with a question: What if we connected everything?
RareHaus is that question, made physical. What if we stopped waiting for institutions to catch up?
What if we stopped acting like creativity is only valid when it’s clean, polite, and packaged for mass production?
What if we just… made something else?
We did. We’re doing it.
And if you’re reading this? You’re probably part of it too.