MaPó called me Saturday afternoon to tell me John Scott had passed on. I never met the great sculptor, despite his close association with the University’s art department, and now I never will.
His works live on, though: down by the river, over on St. Bernard Avenue and right in the middle of the University’s main quad, which I see every day I go to work.
Here’s a picture I took of that sculpture shortly after the floodwaters receded from campus.
He has works in many other places; those are just the ones I know off the top of my head.
I remember reading in the paper some months ago about how thieves broke into his studio here and stole some of his sculptures, hacking up what they didn’t understand to sell for scrap. Such an insult.
What’s so sad about Scott’s passing is that he never made it back to the city he loved. He suffered from pulmonary fibrosis and had a double lung transplant in Houston — twice, I believe. He watched the flooding of New Orleans from afar like so many of us, but his health never allowed him to come back.
I understand his wish was to be buried here. May he rest in peace.