Some evening, I think on the second or third day, I went to the headlands on the west end of Mendoncino. It is a popular point, especially during a sunset. I drove down to have a look and found this view looking southward down the coastline. The thing I found fascinating was the sparseness of the cliffsides. My usual environs have many homes crammed side by side without much space to really even see a coastline for what it is. I often think, when I stand at a place where the land meets the sea, about it being the edge of the continent on which I live. There might be only ten or twenty feet left of the land for me to travel before I can walk no further. Yet, I could walk three thousand miles in the opposite direction and experience all the life and sights the United States has to offer. Conversely, the rest of the world is out over the horizon somewhere should I be able to fly or sail across the open water.
The sun was setting on my right side as I turned my attention to the land capturing the last of the days light. Only a few indications of human tracks were noticeable. A pathway leading to a cliffside look out, or a structure, barely visible on the distant shore across the bay. I was virtually alone, able to tune into the sound and strength of the ocean the wind past my face, I could even hear the sound of the bristles across the course surface of my canvas.
The cliffside basks in the last light of the setting sun, the shadows indicate the waning of the day, wrapping itself into the promise of a new day only after the nights journey. The scene was an encompassing experience of the environment. Looking at it was like listening to a beautiful piece of music, even the gestures in the act of painting was an attenuation of focus and meditation. It was the word that came with the thought of visual music; Sonata.