First, he started with just cement and paint, which he scavenged from a local dump and applied to the side of a dried-up riverbank. After discovering that the process appealed to him, he began to grow the structure by adding discarded car parts and hay bales donated from local farmers. These piles he covered with adobe clay, pulled from the desert, and paint, also brought to him from increasingly curious passersby.
Knight lived alone in his truck, painted fender-to-fender and parked at the base the rising hill, where he was “as comfortable as can be,” he once said. (Seven months of the year, when it was warm enough, he slept under the stars in a hammock.) Indeed, he was content with little, save a cohort of unnamed cats that kept him company and his daily work on the mountain; he’d rise at the crack of dawn, sometimes as early as 5:30, to add to his creation.
Over the years, patches of brilliant colors covered the swelling form. From a sea of turquoise on the flat ground, climbed a network of flowers. Knight made them by applying patties of adobe to the hard surface, then shaping them into stems, leaves, and round blooms. Each indented center of the flower was created by Knight punching the blob (one of his favorite aspects of the process). These raised forms were covered in any color he had on hand, from periwinkles to ruby reds.