The Story of the Blue Couch
A Recollection

It was the year 1946, July, the second year of my enlistment in the Army Air Force. I was stationed at Ogden Air Force Base, an airfield just outside Salt Lake City, Utah, and was just about to be "mustered out." During the prior 6 months at this base I was befriended by a family in Salt Lake City, the Bauerleins, Dr. Ted, Honor and children Connie, Toni and Jimmy. I had spent most every weekend at their home, often baby sitting the kids while Ted and Honor went out to plays, suppers etc. My papers had come with orders to return to Fort Dix in New Jersey to be officially discharged. This same summer the Bauerleins were planning to come to Massachusetts, Honor's home for a vacation. I left on a train and they drove back to Buckland in a car. Honor's family, the Buells, were lifetime friends of Robert Strong Woodward and during this time here in Buckland, we all had several suppers and picnics together. Below is a scene of a picnic under the Heath Pasture Studio beech tree.

When it was time for the Bauerleins to return to Salt Lake City, they selected a Woodward painting to have shipped out during the fall. The painting selected was the one shown above of the beech tree in Heath. RSW had painted this several years previously but had not yet selected a name for the painting and told them that they could give it a name after living with it for a while.

Now, for a moment, back to my days in Salt Lake City. The Bauerleins had frequent dinner guests which I also attended, helping Honor with the meals and the dishes. One of their frequent guests was Brewster Ghiselin, a professor and poet at the University of Utah. and his wife. During his visits he would often read one of his latest poems which the Bauerleins enjoyed, but I never understood. During one of these visits he gave me a signed copy of his latest book Against the Circle.

The Woodward painting arrived during the fall of 1946, and was hung in the living room by Dr. Ted. The story is that the next time that Brewster Ghiselin and his wife came for supper, he looked up at the painting, threw his arms up in the air, and exclaimed aloud, "The Blue Couch." And so the painting was named!

Word was received back in Massachusetts. RSW was aghast. No other of his paintings of New England scenes had ever received such a title. Quoting from RSW's painting diary, "After it went out to them in late September, I let them name it -- as an exact title had never been placed on it. They called in their poet friend, Brewster Ghiselin, who in some fanciful way got the feeling of a 'blue couch' out of the sky bands, and so named the painting! Enough said."

The painting remained in the Salt Lake City home until Dr. Ted passed on. The family grew up and moved to Massachusetts. The painting came East with them but eventually sold locally.

CLICK HERE ⮞ To listen to a reading of,
"The Rattlesnake Poem," by Brewster Ghiselin

ADDITIONAL NOTES BY THIS PAGE'S EDITOR BRIAN MILLER - May 2025

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There is a tradition of Woodward permitting painting owners to name their paintings. We believe this is primarily paintings bought direct from the artist's studio and brokered by Woodward himself. Most all paintings with names however were given by Woodward because we have not one example of an untitled painting exhibiting at any show. In some cases, Woodward wouldn't even know an owner gave a painting they bought from the artist a name until years later as in the example of Early Sugaring #1.

Woodward sold a painting to his friend Emmett Naylor of the Harrison Keach Sugar House along side a wood pile and a large maple tree with red buckets attached. Years later, Woodward speaks with Naylor's children learns the family named the painting "Early Sugaring." What they did not know is that Woodward made a painting of a single maple tree, with red buckets pinned to it, on a wintery slope with named Early Sugaring in 1921. That painting was sold to the J.H. Miller Gallery in Springfield as part of a wholesale purchase 6 paintings. That painting was purchased by his friend F. Earl Williams years later. In his painting diary for the Naylor painting, he states, "A previous canvas, owned by F. E. Williams was also called 'Early Sugaring' --so I have designated them as E.S. #1 and E.S. #2." Williams painting, which he named is "one" and the Naylor painting number "two."

It is clear that Woodward did not love the name. Rarely in the naming of his paintings did he ever get so abstract. In fact, his names were often poetic in a way that was both quite literal at the same time as holding an equally sincere metaphoric meaning. Ghiselin's given name to the canvas does take from the unique sway of the clouds appearing to curve like a comfortable couch. For Woodward, we believe, this would be too literal a name. He referred to it as "fanciful," but what we know about the artist suggest he did not find it very clever. Woodward liked to be clever, a lot of times, especially for his most symbolic subjects, there would be several latent or implied meanings. He was a layered, complex man, that knew certain subjects held various meanings. His weathered barns for example, are they about tough economic times or neglect or a little bit of both. I struggle with these questions about the artist a lot and I have come to realize, he liked that middling place where both are true... If you have trouble seeing a couch, I did my best to illustrate it in the image to the left.

In my experience docenting exhibits of Woodward's work, we all see something different in every canvas. People have told me things they see and what meaning they attach to it often surprises me. I do not debate their take because I have realized that art often reflects back to them something in their psyche that is specifically unique to them. We all have preferences and biases. Still we uphold the tradition of allowing owners of unnamed paintings to name the canvases. Many do well to keep it similar to how Woodward would name them, but most ask for help and we give it a thought and offer them a choice of several Woodward like names.

Though not official, I have had to "name" a lot of paintings. The Unnamed Gallery was once simply a list of numbered nameless paintings. But over the years, as names were discovered or given, the numbers started to get jumbled, and confusing. We could never remember what "Unamed #34" looks like. So the decision was made to give them temporary names in the form of subtitles, i.e. "Unnamed: Wintry Beech." If Larch came to me and said, "I just got a new picture of Unnamed: Wintry Beech," I would know what he was talking about. If he said to me, "I just got a new picture of Unnamed: #76," I would have to look it up. That is another thing, do we reuse numbers, not reuse numbers... did we want numbers going into the hundreds?

It is because of Blue Couch, that I do my best to not be too fanciful or clever. It is hard to do. There are some names that are not exactly "Woodward-esque" like Unnamed: Many Horizons (upper right) which is one of the most unique canvases by the artist. However, I am quite proud of the name, Unnamed: Wooded Stream, or even Unnamed: Strength of Years, (to the left) and Unnamed: Barnyard Blanket, although that last one might get an eye-roll from Woodward in real life. We hope to reduce the Unnamed Gallery to just those that we have a picture of but do not know its current location or owner, such as it is with Unnamed: Strength of Years. With any luck and enough time, we hope widdle it down even further.

Dr. Mark has wanted me to write an essay on Woodward's painting names for many years and as much as I wanted to do it, I could never find the right focus or tone for the essay. Woodward felt things so deeply, and he was so sincere in his effort, that he reached an intimacy with his subject I do not know if I could do it justice. He was such a romantic, and at the same time, would not allow himself too much indulgence in its escape. In the end, particularly when it comes to this recollection of the naming of the canvas by Dr. Mark, the poet Ghiselin did get something right. In many ways, the Heath Pasture, on Burnt Hill, was Woodward's safe place, his comfort in a difficult life, and is that not what our "couches" are to us all? A place of rest from the rigors of our daily life? While Ghilselin took a fanciful path to name this painting, was he as far off as it seems? I do not know any more.

Brian C. Miller, May, 28, 2025