Category Archives: Blog

McElhinney Hawai’i Painting Journal, June 29-July 13, 2015, on View at UNTITLED MIAMI

Dawn, July 2, 2015, from the summit of Kilauea.

I am honored that Bravin-Lee Programs will be exhibiting HUDSON HIGHLANDS at UNTITLED Miami. The fair opens tonight.
Also on view will BE KILAUEA KULANIAPIA, my Hawaiian painting journal from June 29 to July 13, 2015. The book contains journal entries, 17 color page-spread paintings, one map and two monochrome paintings, presented in a buckram-covered foil-stamped handmade Solander (clamshell) box produced by Cat at The Wyvern Bindery in London.
Other artists featured in the virtine at Bravin Lee Prorgams include Robert Birmelin, Brian Butler, Douglas Florian, Dianna Frid, Judith Henry, Elektra KB, Jonathan Lasker, Marilyn Minter Jason Polan, Charles Ritchie, Martin Wilner, and Amy Wilson

(Above) Painting the crater at Kilauea at dawn, July 2, 2015, using the summit marker as a worktable

Kilauea. 11:00 pm. July 1, 2015

Pu’uhonua O Honaunau. July 9, 2015

Twin Rocks, Omea Bay. July 4, 2015

Kilauea. July 2, 2015

Punalu’u. July 2, 2015

Pu’uhonua O Honaunau. July 9, 2015

Kahua Ranch Chapel. July 8, 2015

Fresxco by Jean Charlot, Kahua Ranch Chapel. July 8, 2015

Kulaniapia Falls

Omea Falls. Saturday July 4, 2015

Palm at Hunanunau; Kulaniapia Falls

Sorry engaging the zoom feature is beyond my present skill-set.
Please visit Bravin-Lee Programs at Untitled Miami, tonight though Sunday December 10

“HUDSON HIGHLANDS” on View at Bravin Lee Programs, UNTITLED Miami. December 6-10, 2017

HUDSON HIGHLANDS, a suite of seven archival digital prints of James Lancel McElhinney journal paintings, in a limited edition of fifty copies, set in a blind-stamped cloth covered clamshell box with title page, colophon and chapbook, was published on November 17, 2017.
Prior to this date, nearly half of the edition had been either purchased by subscription, or spoken for. Since then more have sold, and one has been acquired by the collection of the West Point Museum.
The HUDSON HIGHLANDS suite, together with McElhinney’s 2015 Fieldbook number 10: KILAUEA KULANIAPIA will be on view at Bravin Lee Programs at UNTITLED art fair in Miami Beach, from December 6-19, 2017.

Here is a preview of the print suite. A PDF of the chapbbok follows these images

Download (PDF, Unknown)


Last Friday, October 27, I visited the Brilliant Graphics production facility in Exton, Pennsylvania, to sign, date and number 350 prints for the limited edition of Hudson Highlands: North River Suite Volume One. The debossed clamshell boxes just arrived from the bookbinder, who did a fabulous job.

The suite has been assigned an ISBN number, a Library of Congress Control Number and has been registered with the U.S. Copyright Office.
The final version of the companion chapbook was submitted to the printer on November 2nd. We have set the official publication date of the limited edition as November 24.
It has been a long haul, with an unforeseen number of details needing to be addressed. The good news is now that the first iteration is nearly ready to launch, we now have a template for future editions.

October 27 was be the last day for subscribers to the listed on the acknowledgements page of the chapbook. The limited edition remains on sale at the discounted price of $1,000.00 USD, through November 24, 2017.

Orders received by mail must be postmarked no later than November 24, 2017.
PayPal orders must be received by 11:59 PM on the same day.
(New York State resident add 8% sales tax)

Retail price after 11/24/17 will be $1,500.00

Click on the link below for more details:

HHS_Brochure_October 4

To pay by check: PO Box 142, West Haverstraw, New York. 10993

To pay by PayPal, send payment to Click on the link below:

LAST CHANCE. HUDSON HIGHLANDS SUITE: Special Subscriber Discount extended to October 27

Everything is coming together. This coming Friday I will be signing prints. The clamshell boxes just arrived from the bookbinder, who did a fabulous job. One-third of the edition has already been sold. On Friday we also finalize the content of the companion chapbook.

October 27 will be the last day to purchase at the discounted price of $1,000.00 USD, and to be listed on the acknowledgements page as a subscriber.

Post-publication retail price will $1,500.00

(New York State resident add 8% sales tax)

Click on the link below for more details:

HHS_Brochure_October 4

To pay by check: PO Box 142, West Haverstraw, New York. 10993

To pay by PayPal, send payment to Click on the link below:


Professional Development for Artists Seminars

Greenwich Art Society
299 Greenwich Ave, 3rd floor
Greenwich, CT 06830

Thursday, October 5
from 5:00-7:00pm
G.A.S. Gallery, 2nd floor.

What can we make of today’s rapidly evolving art-world? Urban centers have been replaced by global networks. Galleries are in decline. Art Fairs and Auction houses dominate the scene. Creative investment and online resources have redefined the market. Government support has all but disappeared. Private museums are on the rise. Sea-changes in patterns of patronage and young collectors motivated by new priorities raise many questions. Has the MFA culture kept pace with these changes? How relevant is higher education? Is it still a haven for creative practice? How will an artist survive? Where can they find success? What will be their legacy?
For more than ten years, author, artist and educator James Lancel McElhinney has conducted nearly one hundred interviews with some of America’s top artists, collectors, dealers, critics and art-historians. In these conversations, McElhinney found simple answers to difficult questions, and reasons why artists should welcome the end of an era, and the dawn of a new age. This talk will update the road-map and chart new pathways for art as enterprise.

To attend, call the Greenwich Art Society at 203-629-1533
(Members $25 / Non-members $45)

The Genesis of the HUDSON HIGHLANDS Suite

Images (left to right: In the Hudson Highlands, Atop Mount Greylock, Dawn: Kilauea Summit)

For the past ten years the majority of my new paintings have migrated into books. The change occurred gradually, not as any kind of plan. No theoretical epiphany preceded the shift. The idea just caught up with me. As a bibliophile fond of travel, I succumbed to my fate without protest. It was liberating. Personal mobility actually expanded my artistic practice. Whatever materials I might need could be carried in my pockets, travel-vest or shoulder-bag.

Someone asked me, “Where is your studio”
“You’re looking at it” I replied

Having completed hundreds of page-spreads, the question that arose was how to exhibit them. The traditional solution would be to lay them out in vitrines, open to single page-spreads. Another method was to transform painting-journals into animations, such as those that greet visitors to this website’s homepage. Neither mode of presentation could simulate the experience of perusing one of these books manually. Given their nature, it would be complicated logistically, exposing the objects to potential damage. If I were to exhibit these works in the conventional way, I had to be open to selling the books without cutting them up to accommodate some form of wall-display. Receiving a list of book-binders from the Center for Book Arts in New York City I found a few who could build me an octavo-sized solander (clamshell) box in which the original painted books could be housed. Following every conversation I came away with a case of sticker-shock. Many of these skilled craftspersons had a backlog of several weeks. I decided to do more research.
In August of 2016 my wife presented a paper at a symposium at Tate Britain. After visiting several paper-shops and binderies in London I brought one of these books to Wyvern Bindery on Clerkenwell Road. Stepping through the storefront door transported me to a Dickensian workshop filled with rolls of fabric, glue-pots, bustling workers and front-man Mark standing behind a wooden counter. I described my predicament. At the end of the following day he presented me with the solution, at a lower cost than would have been possible in New York. Manhattanites presume that everything on the planet is for them just a cab ride away. Not so. During the past two years, we have witnessed the extinction of the last privately-owned full-service art-supply stores in New York. Many bookstores have suffered similar fates. My impression is that London retains a culture of artisanal binderies, and a deeper commitment to books as works of art–not just delivery devices for texts and images. There are exceptions of course–the museum shops and venues like Strand, Printed Matter, McNally-Jackson, relocated Rizzoli and others. Books seem to be gaining visibility in museum exhibitions. Vitrines displaying sketchbooks and ephemera were seldom seen twenty years ago, but now are de rigeur.
One question remained unanswered. As I continue to paint in books, how might I recreate for purposes of exhibition the experience of having a book in hand, open to a painted page-spread? I brought one of these books to a number of prominent New York art-dealers, who generously shared their suggestions.
With a wink, Dick Solomon wondered aloud what kind of lunatic would ever think that painting in books had any commercial value. The question he said, was “how to get the genie out of the bottle.” He suggested that I consider turning them into prints. A month later I found myself in Berlin, spending the better part of a day in the back room at Walther Koenig Buchhandlung, at 27 Burgstrasse, next to the Museum Island. While most of the books were by contemporary artists, historical precedents became obvious. Not only did I envision a dialogue with Claude Lorrain and Piranesi, but also with Hogarth and Turner. Producing a suite of prints would create a dialogue between my work, and William Guy Wall’s Twenty-four Hudson River Portfolio. Combined with Benson J. Lossing’s The Hudson from the Wilderness to the Sea my project could look to precedents in the history of American art and with expeditionary artists who described places that tourists would later visit. Thus were pictures of the land inscribed upon our collective identity.

Several challenges arose. The first was finding a printer who could transform my page-spread diptychs into archival digital prints. My visit to Walther Koenig had reinforced an esthetic decision to “break” the books into single sheets, while leaving the book itself intact. This returned me to the idea of setting the prints into some kind of portfolio, or loose binding. During a visit to Amsterdam I had taken in the Hercules Seghers exhibit, which later came to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The bookstore at the Rijksmuseum had commissioned a suite of reproductions of seven Seghers etchings, housed in a rigid portfolio with side-ties. The companion booklet (chapbook) was the same size as the prints. I found it unwieldy, but the idea of seven prints resonated with me. Dick Solomon has recommended six, but I liked the idea of a baker’s half-dozen.
While I was at Yale in the mid-1970s, I had acquired a suite of reproductions of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s circus drawings, with text by William Seitz, published by Harry Abrams in 1967. Like the Seghers, the prints were held in place by a series of paper flaps, inside two boards hinged at the spine. The Lautrec suite did not have the vexation of grosgrain ties. Too me it did not feel enough like a book. And so I settled on the idea of a cloth-covered Solander (clamshell) box, like the one that had been built for me at Wyvern Bindery in Clerkenwell. Likewise I settled on a chapbook that would be closer to the size of a 19th-century chapbook; octavo, landscape.
The prints were developed with help from the production team at Brilliant Graphics in Exton, Pennsylvania, to recreate the feeling of a whole book, open to a single page-spread. Some aspects of each painting is easier to read in this secondary iteration, than in its original book-form. For this reason, it was important that the prints not be seen as reproductions, but as enhancements of the originals.
I had settled on Brilliant on the recommendation of friends, and positive experiences I had in my interactions with them. The fine work they do for galleries and museums in producing books and catalogues tipped the balance for me, and we went to work.
One hurdle remained, which was how I would be able to pay the printer.
My first solution was to work through a fiscal sponsorship with an organization I shall refrain from naming. After shepherding my proposal through all the proper channels, others who had not been privy to the conversation about this project created a misunderstanding that proved mortal to this particular partnership. Following weeks of conversations back and forth between accountants and others, failing to make any progress, I walked away and shifted direction.
Follow a subscription model, sufficient funds were raised to pay the printer. In mid-August a sudden windfall in the form of a Pollock-Krasner Foundation artist-grant gave me the flexibility needed to move forward. Without it I might have been forced to cut corners, or to sacrifice key elements of the publication. News of the grant stunned me. It also motivated me to work harder, to be worthy of such recognition.
This week (September 5) I placed the order for the boxes and committed to a production schedule. The Hudson Highlands suite will be published officially on November 1, 2107. There will be launch events and other festivities, to be announced very soon. All will be posted both here, and on social media.

Below is a preview of the limited edition, with two PDFs; a prospectus, and a sample copy of the chapbook. Comments are welcome. Please share this link with others who might like to know about Hudson Highlands.



North Gate


Storm King


Crows Nest


Western Highlands




South Gate



West Point

Look inside the chapbook:

Download (PDF, Unknown)

For more information on the Hudson Highlands Suite, please see the PDF below:

Download (PDF, Unknown)

To order:


Download (DOCX, 37KB)

A chapbook is a companion volume (booklet) for content published in different form. The word comes from “cheap”, something bartered for produced at an affordable cost. The original chapbooks were the first “paperbacks”, mass-produced printed matter for popular consumption during the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, making their appearance alongside the first broadsides, tabloids and periodicals. Chapbooks were often produced (as here) to accompany a suite of loose prints, or perhaps a finely bound volume. Popular music and political rants were published in this form, as were serial fictions known as Penny Dreadfuls, the forerunners to 20th-century comic-books.

The concept driving the limited-edition Hudson Highlands suite arose from my awareness of 19th-century expeditionary art, and from a conversation with Dick solomon of Pace Prints. Returning from his exploration of Latin America to Europe by way of Philadelphia, Alexander von Humboldt advised Thomas Jefferson that artists were essential to the success of future military explorations. While in South America and Mexico, Humboldt had been forced to produce his own drawings, which were later elaborated and refined for publication by professional artists in Paris.

Artists like Jacques le Moyne, Frans Post, Albert Eckhout, William Hodges, William Bartram and others had already paved the way. Taking Humboldt’s advice to heart, Stephen H. Long enlisted artists Samuel Seymour and Titian Ramsay Peale II as members of his 1821 expedition to the Rocky Mountains. West Point superintendent Sylvanus Thayer modified the curriculum of the US Military Academy at West Point to require two hours of draw a day for second and third-year cadets.

Later artist-entrepreneurs like John-James Audubon, William Guy Wall, George Catlin and Alfred Jacob Miller explored the boundaries between art, science and ethnography, seeking private funding for their expeditions and popular audiences for the artworks they produced. While original works were exhibited and sold, the greater audience for these artists was reached via publications in the form of books and prints.

A couple of years ago I had the pleasure of interviewing Dick Solomon, to collect an oral history from him for the Smithsonian Archives of American Art. A few months later I saw him again, at a print show at the Seventh Regiment Armory on Park Avenue. I asked if he would give me a few minutes of his time to show him something. After some time had passed I called and made an appointment to meet at Pace Gallery, on East 57th Street. I showed him the Hudson Valley painting-journal, for which Wyvern Binderyarchives of american art
, on Clerkenwell Road in London, had produced a Solander (clamshell) box. Solomon leafed through the book. He looked at me, and with a wink said,
“if I were to see this at a show, I would wonder what kind of lunatic thought this had commercial potential. You’ve got to find a way to get the genie out of the bottle. Consider producing a suite of archival prints.”
I took his advice to heart. After showing the book to a number of other dealers and collectors, it became clear that producing a limited edition of prints would be the best option. I found myself reviewing the careers of Audubon, Catlin and others, which brought me to the realization that if I had revived a centuries-old artistic practice (painting in books), I might be forced to resort to centuries-old marketing strategies.

This iteration of the Hudson Highlands chapbook is undergoing final, minor adjustments. The limited edition of Hudson Highlands will be published on November 1, 2017 with a retail price of $1,500.00 The pre-publication price is $1,000.00
Subscribers who order a copy of the limited edition prior to October 15, 2017 will be thanked, and listed as sponsors on the Acknowledgements page of the chapbook.

To place your order, send a check for $1,000.00 to:

Needlewatcher Editions, PO Box 142, West Haverstraw, New York, 10993

New York residents add 8% sales tax ($80.00)

To use PayPal:

Look inside the chapbook:

Download (PDF, Unknown)

Hudson Highlands: Limited Edition. Pre-publication Special Offer

Hudson Highlands, a suite of seven archival digital prints, drawn from the painting-journals of James Lancel McElhinney, will be published in a limited edition of fifty copies on November 1, 2017. The suite of facsimile images is printed on 100 lb. archival paper and housed in a fine cloth-covered archival clamshell box. A companion chapbook identifying each location in enclosed.

(Clamshell cover design)

(Cover sheet/image key)

Copies of this limited edition are now available for sale from Needlewatcher Editions, at a pre-publication discounted price. Subscribers who complete their purchase by October 15 will be listed as patrons on the acknowledgements page pf the companion chapbook. For details, please open or download this PDF.

Download (PDF, Unknown)

To order:

FIRST SUMMER ROMANCE: Telling Tales at the Roger Smith Hotel on August 2, 2017

Last night I had the pleasure to share a few stories with a great audience at the Roger Smith Hotel at 47th Street and Lexington Avenue.
Last year I had met the engaging and lovely Danika Druttman at dinner in the West Village with artists Mike Maxwell and Edgar Heap of Birds. Danika, who runs the programs and exhibitions at Roger Smith Hotel, invited me to speak at one of their Show and Tell events. Last night’s program was the baker’s dozen. It was a privilege to share the bill with master storytellers Noah Harlan and Flash Rosenberg.

The subject of First Summer Romance is not my normal fare.
Collecting stories over the past few years for a memoir with a working title of A Pack of Lies, I decided to rework one of those narratives into something appropriate. It’s all true. I deny every word of it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.


(an excerpt from A Pack of Lies by James L. McElhinney © 2017)

Many years ago, I received a scholarship to attend a summer art-school in Maine, which had been founded in the late 1940s by a group of prominent New York artists. Over the years, its fame had grown, mostly because many of the artists who had studied there later went on to become famous and successful.
The school was in the middle of nowhere.I didn’t own a car.
Calling the school’s Manhattan office looking for a ride-share, I was given the number of a guy named Frank, who was the opposite of the cliché of a bohemian artist.
He lived in an apartment in his parents’ house in Audubon, New Jersey, which was furnished with oriental rugs and antiques. Paintings of nudes, portraits and landscapes covered the walls.
Frank drove a late-60s burgundy Ford Fairlane sedan, equipped with an 8-track tape-deck and twelve hours of Bob Dylan tapes. Fueled by cigarettes, black coffee and malted-milk balls, we reached Central Maine at twilight, finding our billets after nightfall. After breakfast the next morning, we all trudged up the dirt road to campus, to attend an official welcoming ceremony in the fresco-barn. Spread out across a hilltop, the physical plant was a series of rustic buildings, adjoined by cow-pastures rimmed by dark forests. We all lived at the bottom of the hill, in a hamlet of cedar-shake cottages, scattered along the southern shore of Lake Wesserunsett.

This territory was not unfamiliar to me. My family had summered at Mount Desert. The Maine coast was a beloved destination. Ten years earlier, I had attended Camp Choconut in northern Pennsylvania. Summers ended with the traditional Villa Hunt, a three-day event in which campers and counselors reenacted Pershing’s pursuit of Pancho Villa into Mexico. For three days, we slept in trees, and by rushing streams. We stalked the woods, and tagged each other with Bisquick- balls.
More wilderness adventures were had at Camp Hugh Beaver in the Poconos. Frightful reports circulated about a Stroudsburg man, who had slaughtered his family and lurked in the woods. Sightings were reported. Campers slept with one eye open. One day a counselor caught a rattlesnake. He put it in a terrarium and fed it hatchlings from a nearby chicken farm. After capturing a hundred-pound snapping turtle, he somehow got it into one of the stables. The next day we found the hinge broken and the door ajar. Tracks led down to the water’s edge. For days, nobody dared to go into the lake.

Incessant rain plagued our first week in Maine. I unpacked my gear into a corner of a sprawling shed, rounded up some tables and an easel, found some objects and started painting a still-life. When the weather cleared, Frank invited me to ride shotgun on one of his plein-air excursions. I had never really painted landscape before. There was a prejudice against it amongst the avant-garde contingent, who regarded the practice as backward and the subject as inferior. To vex them even more, we began to call ourselves Sunsets Incorporated.
Every morning after breakfast, the burgundy Fairlane debouched from our leafy enclave, in search of painting-motifs; shop-talk for a view that might afford a good composition. Anyone familiar with the terrain in Maine knows that everywhere you turn, there are gobsmacking vistas. Painting day after day, under a burning sun, or in the fine mist of a cool soft day, or shielding our work under ponchos against a driving rain, mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds, and swarms of biting flies were our constant companions. Exposed as I was to the elements from morning to night, something wild and savage was unleashed within me. Imagine a place full of hormonal twenty-something workaholics, men and women, straight and gay, removed from the humdrum routines of everyday life, set loose in the north woods. Two weeks into the program I became involved with a woman named Liza. Most of us bunked two to a room, but Liza’s roommate never showed up, affording us a measure of privacy. She was, shall we say, very considerate, and eagerly approved of my displays of gratitude. Life without her was unthinkable. Marriage even crossed my mind.

That week Frank and I took a break from the wilderness, and painted by the dam in a nearby mill-town. The French-easel posse was already on site by the time we arrived, and had set up in the most advantageous positions to address the motif.
Its leader was a member of the faculty named Paul. Clad in white from head to toe, wearing a large black beard, he could have been cast as Monet. Curious onlookers approached him. Removing his wide floppy hat with a flourish, he presented it to them, like a mendicant’s bowl. Stunned, they halted, turned, and crept away. Throughout the day, we could hear Paul’s booming voice,
“Blue, blue! Distance is blue” Only Claude could paint distance.”
Driving back to base-camp, Handel’s Water Music blared from the 8-track. All I could think of was Liza. That night, after one of our extended postprandial cuddles, I went back to my room and sat on my bed. Something was in it. Someone. At first I thought my room-mate had gone mad, or mistaken my bunk for his. Reaching under the covers, I found smooth skin, warm breasts and a woman named Lauren. She was amazing. Soon, life without Lauren was unimaginable. This was love. We made plans. It was serious.

Frank and I had been talking about bringing large canvases out to the field, but the modest cargo capacity of the burgundy Fairlane foiled our ambitions. Instead we set up on campus, next to a pond, below the life-drawing studio.
Frank painted water-lilies. I painted Frank painting water-lilies.
My canvas measured four by six feet. Securing it to three easels, I leaned large rocks against their feet for added stability. Our animated banter drew complaints from a few craving silence, as they toiled over drawings in the life-studio up the hill. The co-director of the school came by to investigate.
“Look at that’s they’re doing,” said Frank. “Then look at what we’re doing. You decide. If you want us to shut up, we’re happy to oblige.”
The administrator walked up the hill, to confer with the disgruntled, then returned five minutes later. He smiled, and told us to carry on. Deciding not to break down our workplace for lunch, we left everything where it stood and went to the dining-room.
Returning an hour later, we found Hyder’s setup intact, but my table had been overturned. My palette–a sheet of thick glass–lay face-down on the grass, broken in two pieces. Paint tubes were strewn everywhere. Oddly curved scrape-marks crisscrossed the bottom half of my canvas. I was furious, sure that one of those vengeful sons-of-bitches from the life studio must have done this. Marching up the hill and into the studio, I called them all out at once. They denied everything. Following a few volleys of ripe invective, I slammed the door and stormed down the hill. Frank looked at me, pointed across the pond, and then burst out laughing. There stood two sheep, their faces smeared with oil-paint.

That evening at dinner, Lauren and I conspired to sneak out of our rooms and go skinny-dipping. The plan was to swim out to the raft anchored offshore, and make love under the stars. Waiting by the shoreline for half an hour, I began to wonder if she had preceded me, and might be waiting for me to join her.
Silently, I slipped into the water and made for the raft. Drawing near, her silhouette came into view, sitting on the edge of the raft, legs in the water. Drawing closer, I saw a welcoming smile. Lifting myself onto the deck, we greeted each other with a deep, slow kiss. She spoke.
“I’ve been waiting for you”
“Wait a minute” I replied. “Where the hell is Lauren?”
“Never mind,” the mermaid replied.
“We didn’t swim all this way for nothing.”
We stayed together until first light. From that day on, I could think of nothing but Diana, undine, goddess of sex, warden of my heart. We spoke of growing old together. Life without one another was incomprehensible. Happiness would be ours!
Returning to the field, Frank and I battled sun-showers and bloodthirsty insects. Reveling with primal delight, I embraced my communion with nature, in every possible way. As summer drew to an end, resuming our previous lives was out of the question. Blissful exile, mountains of work, new friends and transformative adventures had filled every last one of us with a kind of jubilation.
At the same time, a sense of loss swept over me. Which romance would blossom? Which love would endure? Pledging endless devotion, we swore to keep in touch, and went our separate ways. Many years later, only one of these summer romances has stood the test of time. We’re still together, the landscape and me.


Elise Engler keeps track of the world through her drawings, paintings, and accordion-books; making lists and documenting her travels to The Galapagos, Antarctica, Sicily and the streets of New York. Beginning on May 19, 2014 Elise Engler spent a year on Broadway, exploring it block by block, from Kingsbridge to the Battery. Engler recently completed a residency at the MacDowell Colony. Last year she began work on a new series entitled First Radio Headline Heard of the Day, a chronicle of mostly political events, as they unfold in real time.
I recently caught up with Elise Engler to learn more about her work. Listen, enjoy, comment, and share: