The first time Evelyn Fairchild met Travis Chase, it was a fine spring morning along the trails of Yellowstone National Park. He had been walking on ahead, whistling a melancholic tune, seemingly oblivious to her. They were alone out there. She had been advised to travel in a group, but the impetuous Eve threw caution to the wind. Alone was the way to go, if one were to absorb the essence of Mother Nature.
Taking pictures of the beauty around her, she stamped her way through the wilderness when a branch hit her eye. Suddenly, she became wary, her senses on red alert, she felt a pair of eyes on her. A shiver ran up and down her spine. Eve turned around and dared a sneak peek, no there was nobody there, she sighed. Was it Christian, she thought, or was it her imagination running amuck again? Her speculations were interrupted when her boots caught on something and she squealed like a pig. Hopping around the obstacle clumsily, she kept going. The stranger ahead paused and looked back at her noisy antics. Feeling chastised, she suddenly became aware that they were alone in the middle of the wild. What if the man was a rapist or worse, murderer? And what if there really was something behind her, watching, waiting, ready to pounce on her. She supposed amongst all her most impulsive decisions this was by far the worst.
Eve was a wild child and a throw back of the hippie era. Her artistic bent was the most intrinsic part of her; it made her love all things earthy. She got her mojo from the wild and wacky... the wackier, the better, her mantra being "normal is boring." Ever since moving to Jackson Hole she had enthusiastically poured over the history of the Native American, and it increasingly influenced her art. She loved the "Indian way of life" which, in essence, was perfectly in harmony with the universe. She found inspiration in the untamed beauty of nature... A jagged rock, an angry sky, a feral animal, a raging blizzard-If a rare spectacle caught her eye, she had to paint it. However, occasionally, she reverted to portraits because they paid good money.
Recalling her life in the bustling New York-A city where her soul almost died and the creative juices ran dry. The city that was filled with her many fake friends and one dead lover... shot dead at a bar brawl of all things! What a joke! She had been jaded with the debauchery of city life; sweet simplicity and good old wholesomeness beckoned. She longed for a place she could call home, to be free of any fear, at liberty to let go of any inhibitions that cramped her imaginative soul. No, this was not the Big Apple; this was Jackson Hole, Wyoming. And in this town, everyday was another day in paradise.
To her immense good fortune, Eve found living quarters in a charming, little log cabins encircled by the scenic panorama of Jackson's rugged terrain. She loved the beauty of the landscape, the Tetons, the abundant forests and the serene flow of its many lakes. It was a siren's call to her aesthetic soul... The artist in her didn't regret for one minute that she had moved here. One year was all it took for Eve to fall in love with the "unsullied-by-commercial-modernism" and the natural, wild, exquisiteness that was Jackson Hole. She had her muse... and it lay all around her!
She sighed recollecting that last day in New York and her agent, Cara Samuel's cautioning words to her, "Eve don't do this. How will you promote your work?"
Eve had retorted with a chuckle, "With renewed inspiration and nerves of steel, Cara dear. City life ain't doing it for me. I need a fresh perspective."
Cara wasn't amused, "The gallery is coming up with an event and a charity auction in three months. The richest art collectors, dealers and connoisseurs are expected from all over the country, not to mention the press/media mileage you'll get from it." Taking a beat, she had watched as Eve continued packing her bags.
Under her breath, Eve muttered, "Don't worry; I'll still be your goose with the golden egg. I'll just be travelling a bit more"
Cara heard her. She was used to it. Gathering more ammunition, she continued, "Don't you go getting sassy on me, girl. " She said. "You could do with some exposure. You haven't done much work since the last few months and you know how it is in the art world... before long you'll be forgotten. It's time to pull up your socks sweetie. Take charge of your life"
But Eve had smiled that beatific smile of hers while she steadfastly gathered her bags.
"I am taking charge, Cara," she said. "I am going to Jackson Hole. I spent my last holiday with Christian in that beautiful town; my best work came when I was there, as you well know. I've lost my mojo and I am getting it back."
Taking one final look around at her cramped apartment and tossing her flame haired curls, she walked out the door one last time.
Cara reflected on how temperamental Eve was. Like every other artist, Eve had her idiosyncrasies. If there was one thing you could depend on it was her stubbornness. But she was as talented as she was anything else, so Cara sighed and let her go. In a way Eve was her baby and she had guided her into the world of art. It was time for the baby to find her place in the real world.
Fortunately for Eve, they discovered that the art world flourished at Jackson too. The town's elite lived an opulent life, making them indulgent art enthusiasts who were willing to shell a pretty penny for a masterpiece. Therefore Cara began to display Eve's work at some of the town's finest art galleries while simultaneously exhibiting it in New York. Jackson's art connoisseurs loved her and the tourists flocked by the dozen to carry back memorabilia. Consequently her paintings were in demand in the town. Though she was not exactly a decadent, well-to-do artist, Eve did manage to live on a decent income.
