On March 6, 2025, I had the great honor of receiving the Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres at the French Embassy in Washington, D.C. In my speech, I reflected on the French Violin School, the connection between music and history, and the role of art in times of uncertainty. At a moment when democracy faces profound challenges, I believe music remains a force of unity, expression, and hope. I am sharing the speech below:
 

Monsieur l’Ambassadeur, honored guests, dear friends,

"Que puis-je faire?"—What can I do?

This question has been asked by musicians, thinkers, and revolutionaries alike—by those who find themselves in moments of uncertainty, when the world feels fragile. It is the same question that shaped the French Violin School, a tradition I am deeply honored to be part of.

My passion has always been to see history through the lens of music and the violin—or any violin-shaped instrument, for that matter. This passion informs my performances, my repertoire choices, my teaching, and my engagement with students. It allows me to uncover the connections between music and history, between the evolution of the violin and the evolution of ideas.

Nowhere has this passion been more deeply nurtured than in French music, in Paris, and in the French violin tradition. From Viotti—an Italian living in Paris—who, with Tourte, developed a more expressive bow to mimic the human voice, to Rode, Kreutzer, and Baillot, who built a conservatory and created a curriculum to teach violinists about the expressive power of their instrument. All of them, by the way, were connected to Beethoven, another revolutionary who transformed music into a force of change.

This lineage has provided me with a lifetime of fascinating perspectives, and I have followed its path—through recording the music of Ysaÿe, exploring the works he premiered and championed, and tracing his connection to Capet, whose influence I inherited through my teacher, Jascha Brodsky. Ysaÿe and Capet were revolutionaries in their own way. Not with weapons, but with music, with bowing techniques, with new ways of hearing and expressing the world.

And so I ask myself: What can I do?

Like Viotti, perhaps I can build a more expressive bow—not of wood and horsehair, but of sound and interpretation, to give voice to the music of our time. Like Kreutzer, Rode, and Baillot, perhaps I can help build a conservatory—not of stone and mortar, but through teaching, shaping a new generation of musicians who understand that technique must serve expression, and that music is never separate from history, from life, from the world around us.

I stand here tonight, in Washington, D.C., at the French Embassy, acutely aware that we are living in a time of profound global challenges. Democracy—the foundation of our freedoms—is under threat in ways we never imagined. And yet, I find hope—in history, in art, and in the unwavering belief that what we do as artists matters.
Music is not just an escape—it is a force that unites, inspires, and reminds us of what is possible. It is a testament to human resilience, a bridge between cultures, and a powerful act of hope.

Tonight, as I receive this extraordinary honor, I do so with a profound sense of responsibility—not just to preserve the past, but to shape the future. Hope is not passive; it is something we must actively create, through our actions, our art, and our dedication to truth and beauty.

I also want to take a moment to thank my husband, Vladimir Stoupel, who shares my deep passion for France and French music. Together, we founded our festival in Aigues-Vives, a town once known primarily for its bullfighting, but which now resonates with music. Every CD that forms our discography of French music—the music we champion—was recorded with him by my side. His unwavering partnership and dedication continue to inspire me.

To Monsieur l’Ambassadeur and to the French Republic, thank you for this recognition, and for your unwavering commitment to the arts. The ideals of liberté, égalité, fraternité remain as essential as ever.

So I will continue to ask: What can I do?—and I will keep seeking the answer through music, through teaching, and through the belief that even in difficult times, art can illuminate the way forward.

Merci.

Judith Ingolfsson