Best weeds in town John Knight celebrates the underdog BY MAGGIE KNOWLES

I only started gardening last summer, but I learned quickly what a pain in the ass weeds are. They act like tweezed eyebrows — the more you pluck ’em the more they grow. Yet to some, weeds are beautiful. They defy nature by spurting through concrete, sand, and gravel. They withstand heavy rain, drought, horrific winds, and surprise frosts. They are the cockroaches of the soil. One such admirer is John Knight, whose ode to insolent flora, "Land and Soul," is at the Clown through March 31.

"Honey, you just growin’ like a weed!" — surely the 6’3"-ish Indiana native grew up with heavily lipsticked aunts crowing that to him. Perhaps that is where the original inspiration began. After that, Knight sought out community gardens in uber-urban DC for their overgrowth, and for now he’s concentrating on Mainer weeds. Preferring to paint on giant canvases, he does make us stop to consider the pests as nonpareil.

In his two largest works, "Bull Thistle" and "Goldenrod," the weeds are arranged like Jesus on a good day. The late afternoon sun clings to the goldenrod like a halo, illuminating the power of the stem to burst through boulders. The contagious weed draws the energy from the sky; deliberate brush strokes pull the color to the heart of the canvas. The bull thistle teases with two pink balls (remember these as a child? They look all soft and bunny-tail like, so you’d run over to throw your face into them only to come away like Buddy after a raccoon run-in), the rest hibernating within lime-green cocoons.

One thing you’ll notice is Knight’s idea of rocks. You may think they are potatoes at first, but rocks they are. Prior to his affair with weeds, the artist squatted in New Mexico developing collections of rock paintings. Though the spotlight has shifted, the rocks keep a steady appearance in his work, their bulbous, uncharactered forms enlarging the unlovable habitats in which weeds thrive. His clouds, too, tend to mirror the rock shapes, sitting heavily in the sky wishing they had waistlines.

If you hike at all, Knight’s paintings will call to you. Many are the exact moment you finally reach the top (panting, sweaty, dying of thirst, blistered, sore) and collapse. After regulating your breath, you notice the world around you: the way the slight breeze shifts the stout bushes; the dabs of wild-flower color; the barren terrain against the magnetic sky. "Queen Anne’s Lace" is such an example. Certainly the prettiest of the weeds, the intricately white "flower" looks like the underside of a cancan dancer’s skirt. Focus on the dark purple eye in the center — the pattern begins to swirl and twist around you.

"Gilsland View 1" is another nature lover’s fantasy. The whole right side of the canvas is an orgy of various weeds in pinks, browns, whites, and surprises of Mediterranean blue. The result is like messy, wonderful, sexy mermaid hair tossing about happily in the mountain breeze. Each stem attempts to outgrow the others to get a better view of the golden fields below.

I didn’t meet Knight, but did study photographs of him from previous articles. Though very handsome, his posture and shy eyes lead me to think he used to be/is self-conscious of his height/looks. Maybe it tracks back to middle school when he towered over the teachers. (I can say this because my bro is the same way). If so, these paintings are a plea against judgment and for a realization there is more to life than cultured roses. Keep in mind roses wither and die within a few days; meanwhile the steadfast weed carries on.

My favorite pieces in the show are the smallest, though Knight states he much prefers creating large works. Pen sketches with watercolor, they are intimate doodles that show greater emotion and tension than their large neighbors. As in a short story, the creator must place intrigue, character, reflection, and sensuality into a condensed area, which is no small feat. The black matting draws attention to the water and rocks, hiding the weeds for a later appearance — the works undress in front of you.

This collection asks one major question: What endures? What in your life and soul has the will to grow and thrive despite daily attempts to uproot it? These paintings stare at you and confront you. They say, "I am ugly. But does that mean my life is any less valuable than an orchid?"

Knight realizes all things in nature deserve equality and devotes his artistic career to sharing ignored splendor. The works will humble you and I guarantee, come spring, when goldenrod is climbing up the side of your house, you may still yank it up cursing and sneezing the whole time, but first you’ll stand back and smile at the original beauty.

Maggie Knowles can be reached at margaretknowles@yahoo.com

John Knight’s "Land and Soul" hangs at the Clown, in Portland, through March 31.