Andres Serrano is an American photographer most known for his Piss Christ, which showed a statue of Jesus submerged in what was supposedly artist's urine. It caused great controversy when it was exhibited in 1989, and was used as evidence in campaigns to dissolve the National Endowment for the Humanities. At the Yvon Lambert Gallery in New York City last week, Serrano talked about the controversy. "I use language in a conceptual way. First you have the image, then the title." He said there would have been no controversy if it didn't have the title Piss Christ, and that the title was not meant to be provocative, just descriptive.

All of modern art is based on placing the idea ahead of the execution, but what is the idea at stake here? A man whose work brought on a campaign that almost killed Big Bird has just claimed that it was only a matter of labeling. Pure semantics. Could he really believe what he just said?

The Lambert gallery is exhibiting selections of Serrano's newest show, called Shit, which consists of 67 huge photos of poop, of which eighteen were on display here. As a representative of PoopReport, I visited the gallery along with my art industry consultant, Ms. Claudia, an art history student and employee at a rival gallery, to get a better perspective.

This was not the show's opening day, but we arrived to find Serrano speaking in the gallery. Familiar with such things, Ms. Claudia thought it was very strange for an artist to be making such an appearance, especially considering he arrived with a small entourage including someone who appeared to be his personal photographer. Approaching sixty years, Serrano looked like a person who was just that old but dressing like he thought he wasn't. His high, unruly hair and elaborate leather boots told to us that he was the artist in the room, a subject he was busy confirming to the gathering crowd.

He called himself "a conceptual artist with a camera," as opposed to a photographer. He said he didn't make or manipulate any of the poop subjects -- he just shot them how they were placed on the table. "I didn't create -- I looked for it." In a campaign year, we are used to hearing such meaningless double-talk. In an art gallery, it is also not unexpected, because someone needs to justify the elevated finance and status at stake. But looking around at huge pictures of various poops, there seems to be nothing to match the glib talk.

I won't say, "You can't shine shit," because that's exactly the kind of simplistic metaphor Serrano would get off on.

Serrano did not present himself as overly serious or important in his impromptu personal gallery tour. He said he has a love/hate relationship with the art world, but he surely doesn't hate the high prices his works sell for. As an artist of various taboo subjects, including dead bodies in a morgue and KKK members, Serrano said he just wants to explore things he didn't know about and to get people to discuss things they don't talk about. He noted that while the New York Times would not mention the name of his show in its review, that day's New York Post ran the headline "POO DIDDY" about how the rap mogul stepping in dog poop.

"Confronting our fear of the unknown, fear of the unexpected, is how we learn." He wanted to push boundaries, he said, including his own. The reason he took on this subject is because someone once asked him if there was a subject he would never cover, and "poop" was his reply.

Serrano talked about a double standard in the art world: the desire to seduce and the desire to disturb. "Shit is not repulsive. Some doctors have to work with it." He says he is not aiming for pure shock value --his subjects are actually mundane, he says -- but that he is trying to provoke a reaction from people when they see things they are not comfortable with. It doesn't make him a hypocrite, but when it works for him, he likes having it both ways.

He continued on to say he was doing this as an investigation. "You feel like a doctor or a scientist. I see myself as a scientist."

At this point, it impossible to think he isn't full of it.

And yes, I know what "it" is, but I won't grant him the satisfaction.

"Why didn't anyone else think of this?" he asked. Now the parsing of semantics returns, because only in the most limited of categories can the subject of poop be considered unexplored ground for art. The Yvon Lambert Gallery's own press release points out the serious work of Piero Manzoni and Karen Finley in dealing with poop -- a list which does not include other recent explorations by Santiago Sierra and Wim Delvoye. "Close up of shit hasn't been done," he said. But a cursory search of Flickr and even RateMyPoo.com finds plenty of examples -- just not on this scale, and not in this venue.

Serrano says people have never seen poop look beautiful like this. When Ms. Claudia asked why he photographed the poop in front of painted backdrops, he said that it was because "otherwise, they would look ugly" -- not appearing at all to recognize the contradictory logic.

"It's a good time to talk about shit," he said. "I won't take credit for that, but it's a good time, considering all the shit that is going on in the world." He certainly took pleasure in using the show's title as often as possible. "Everything is open for interpretation. Everyone thinks their shit is the best. So here it is. I call it what it is. I got the good shit."

I can't help but feel like I am misquoting him when he says, "I think this is one of the best shows ever."

"My name will be synonymous with shit." Serrano says this as a bit of a joke. He takes pleasure in explaining the many visualized puns in the exhibit, like the literally-titled Chicken Shit. There is Holy Shit, which is poop that he got from a priest, though he did not explain how he obtained it. "This one is Bull Shit. It is shit from a bull. They are all bull shit, really. That kind of play is intentional."

Such play is limited, though. One photo titled Freudian Shit, for example, is not a reference to poop as a deeper psychological symbol, but just that it is poop from a Freudian therapist. Continuing his explanations, Serrano explains, "This is Jaguar Shit. It is shit from a jaguar. This one is Landscape Shit. It reminded me of a landscape." One frame, titled Self Portrait, is a picture of Serrano's own poop.

There is visual wordplay here -- but nothing deeper than you would find in a crossword puzzle. I have a hard time discerning a more significant meaning, insight, or concept behind the provocation.

And nothing that Serrano said gives us any clue there is any.

When he was done speaking, the gathered people dispersed, with a few stragglers waiting to speak with him. Two teenage boys asked him about t-shirts that had been made as promotional items for the show; Serrano told them to stop by his studio later that afternoon and he would give them a pair.

When I told him I was there from PoopReport.com, it seemed like he thought I was joking. He turned to his associate and asked me to repeat that. I explained to him what Poop Report was about. I thought it was something that would interest him, given that the site executes exactly the kind of discussion of the exact same taboo he had been talking about all afternoon. He was polite enough to speak with me for a minute, but he expressed no interest in Poop Report at all. In fact, he seemed to be mocking my claim of being a reporter for the site when he asked if I had brought Ms. Claudia as my photographer.

Ms. Claudia replied that she only had her camera because she was taking a photography class. He noted that he used to use a similar model when he had done photos of his own ejaculations.

"But you wouldn't be able to do that," he said to her. He paused. "Well, at least, it would be difficult."

We both thought this little joke was not funny, kind of creepy, definitely inappropriate, and just as unimpressive as all the large framed poop hanging around the room.