which of the following is not true of fragonards the swing
A lukewarm response to these series of ambitious works induced Fragonard to abandon Rococo and to experiment with Neoclassicism. He married Marie-Anne Gérard, herself a painter of miniatures,  (1745–1823) on 17 June 1769 and had a daughter, Rosalie Fragonard (1769–1788), who became one of his favourite models. In October 1773, he again went to Italy with Pierre-Jacques Onézyme Bergeret de Grancourt and his son, Pierre-Jacques Bergeret de Grancourt. In September 1774, he returned through Vienna, Prague, Dresden, Frankfurt and Strasbourg.
Though not yet a student of the Academy, Fragonard gained the Prix de Rome in 1752 with a painting of Jeroboam Sacrificing to the Golden Calf, but before proceeding to Rome he continued to study for three years under Charles-André van Loo. In the year preceding his departure he painted the Christ washing the Feet of the Apostles now at Grasse Cathedral. On 17 September 1756, he took up his abode at the French Academy in Rome, then presided over by Charles-Joseph Natoire.
The See-Saw is one of a pair of paintings intended to be seen together, both of which show popular games with sexual undertones; the pendant is Blind Man’s Bluff, in which a girl peeks out from under her blindfold while a man approaches from behind. Blind Man’s Bluff suggests courtship while The See-Saw, intended to be seen immediately afterward, suggests the consummation of the relationship. The See-Saw shows a young man and woman balanced on a plank of wood; the man’s end of the plank is at the ground, flanked by two small children, while the woman is raised in the air, her hand catching hold of a branch above. The scene is largely framed by trees, with hints of blue sky and an architectural element visible in the background. At the base of the seesaw are the remnants of a picnic, including a wine bottle that has toppled over.
Fragonard’s work is at once emblematic of the 18 th century and singular, elevating popular genre scenes to meditations on French society through careful use of symbols and lavish brushwork. The painter’s reputation rests on his love scenes, which hold great density of meaning, and for his use of light and color to transform both subjects and surrounding environments into showcases of virtuosity that capture emotions and reward extended examination. Fragonard’s expressive brushstrokes, which lead figures and landscapes to dissolve into individual strokes when seen closely, had a strong influence on the Impressionists, while his themes have been picked up by 21 st -century artists interested in gender, race and sexuality.
While this odd request was turned down by other painters such as Doyen, a painter of more serious historical subjects, Fragonard leapt to the occasion, producing what became the most iconic work of the French Rococo.
Commissioned by the notorious French libertine Baron de St. Julien as a portrait of his mistress, The Swing was to be painted to the following specificity: “I should like you to paint Madame seated on a swing being pushed by a Bishop. “
The monumental canvases of Blindman’s Buff [fig. 1]   [fig. 1] Jean Honoré Fragonard, Blindman’s Buff, c. 1775/1780, oil on canvas, National Gallery of Art, Washington, Samuel H. Kress Collection, 1961.9.16 and The Swing, which must be counted among the greatest achievements in eighteenth-century French landscape painting, have been associated since their rediscovery in the early nineteenth century. Nearly identical in height, they present similar views of vast and fecund picturesque gardens, peopled with elegantly dressed men, women, and children playing games, conversing, promenading, and dining in an exuberant natural environment. The myriad details in each — bubbling fountains, shadowy sculptures, overgrown flower beds, rushing cascades, soaring trees, and towering cloud-filled skies — put the viewer’s eye in constant motion in, around, and between the two compositions. Blindman’s Buff was intended to hang to the left of The Swing, as indicated by the trellises covered with red and pink flowers that appear in the lower right and lower left corners of each composition. When seen side by side the paintings can be appreciated as one panoramic composition, centered on a great mound surmounted by a geyser and flanked by dramatic vistas to either side. Laboratory analysis has dispelled the notion, first advanced by Pierre de Nolhac, that the pictures were originally a single canvas that has been cut in two.    
Pierre de Nolhac, J.-H. Fragonard (1732 – 1806) (Paris, 1906), 69. Nolhac’s hypothesis was echoed more recently by Cuzin (Jean-Pierre Cuzin, Fragonard, Life and Work [New York, 1988; French ed. Paris, 1987], 202 – 203), who later retracted the idea (Jean-Pierre Cuzin, “Fragonard: un nouvel examen,” Revue d l’Art 80 : 83 – 87). The Swing, which is slightly narrower than Blindman’s Buff, shows indications of having been cropped along its left edge, so that originally the two canvases must have been precisely the same size.    
The X-radiographs show that, while The Swing may have been slightly cut at the left edge, Blindman’s Buff probably retains its original proportions (there is cusping along all four edges). Similarly, the X-radiographs of A Game of Hot Cockles and A Game of Horse and Rider show no evidence of cusping at the top and left edges, indicating that these works may have been cut down at the tops, as Cuzin thought (Jean-Pierre Cuzin, Fragonard, Life and Work [New York, 1988; French ed. Paris, 1987], 203), and possibly along the left sides as well. I am grateful to Elizabeth Walmsley, conservator of paintings at the National Gallery of Art, for her help in studying the X-radiographs.
H. Fragonnard [sic]. Five large pictures by this artist, designed and executed to decorate the walls of a salon; they represent diverse landscape subjects with varied and graceful sites, and are embellished with interesting figures.    
“Cinq grands Tableaux de cet Artiste, composés et executés pour former la tenture d’un Sallon; ils representent divers sujets de Paysages de sites variés et gracieux, et sont ornés de figures interresantes. T[oile].” Catalogue d’une collection choisie de tableaux de differens maîtres . . . qui composoient le cabinet de M.[-], Paris, April 29, 1789, no. 41. See Pierre Rosenberg, “Les mystères d’une fête,” L’Objet d’art 1 (Nov. 1987): 62 – 67.
A powerful painting helps us cope with sadness by offering us a way out of the pain, not by pretending sadness doesn’t exist
For all its visual vibrancy, however, the work’s true power lies elsewhere – in its quiet comprehension of loss. What at first seems a ‘joyous’ celebration of inner light is, on further reflection, a luminous meditation on loneliness. The painting, as the art historian Carol Armstrong writes in her book Cézanne in the Studio: Still Life in Watercolours, is aware of all that has come before it and looks back to “Cézanne’s wild early years, when he painted orgiastic banquets”. As Armstrong sensitively notes, tuning into the subtle frequency of solitude that electrifies the work, it’s “as if someone has finally been invited for dinner or dessert in the studio and even been offered a seat at the table… And yet, poignantly, there is nobody there at all”, as the superficial joyfulness of ebullient abundance is ultimately tempered by the realisation of a deeper emptiness.