The Poop Is Art, People. You Wouldn't Understand

There are reports in the media that I smeared feces on the walls of the embassy. I am here to tell you unequivocally that these reports are true. But I don’t need to explain my art to the Ecuadorians or anyone else.

These pieces are the beginnings of a timeless collection of works that the Ecuadorians could use to recoup the $6 million they spent on housing me in appalling conditions. As a disruptive creative, I found solace in the exploration of poop as a storytelling device. As I spent long, lonely nights in the empty embassy, the expansive walls became my canvas, my hands, my paint brushes, and the diplomats, my muses. I’m particularly proud of the portrait of Cristina that I created one solemn night after a fiery vindaloo.

If the Ecuadorians can’t stomach the idea of groundbreaking art adorning their walls, then I point my shitty finger at them and their lack of any international cultural significance.