I’m so honored to share something extraordinary that happened last Saturday in Paris: I received the Gold Medal from the French Academy of Arts, Science, and Letters for my lifetime contributions to art and culture!
I didn’t really know what to expect.
The ceremony was held in a grand 19th-century ballroom – chandeliers, gold leaf, Art Nouveau sculptures, and 750 elegantly dressed guests. You could almost feel history breathing through the walls.
As I sat there – hands sweaty, feeling underdressed, exhilarated – I thought about all the artists I’ve had the honor to work with through The Working Artist.
I thought about my own art, my writing, my photographs. I remembered how – through thick and thin – I never quit making. Because I couldn’t.
The president of the jury saw that thread. After I accepted my award and prepared to leave the stage, he pulled me aside privately. He told me that he’d reviewed thousands of dossiers but had never seen a career quite like mine.
He’d felt moved by my early advocacy for artists that the mainstream didn’t yet see, by my own creative work, and by the scope of The Working Artist – where I’ve been able to help so many.
‘Formidable, Madame Cloutier,’ he said. ‘I’m deeply moved by your journey.’
He said that my accomplishments matter.
I wonder if he knows what those words mean to me.
Because so often, as artists – and as those who support them – it can feel like we work in the dark. Our efforts go unseen, unrewarded, unacknowledged.
And yet we keep going. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s who we are. Art is in our blood. Isn’t it in yours?
Everyone before me had walked off stage and returned quietly to their seats. But as I made my way back through that massive ballroom, something took over. Maybe it’s the American in me – but I couldn’t help myself.
I held my award out in front of me, grinning like an absolute fool. At first, people smiled politely. Then their eyes softened, their hearts opened. They began to laugh, to clap, to call out, “Bravo!”
As I passed other winners, I held my award toward them, urging them to show me theirs. And they did. One by one, the room began to glow with shared delight.
It wasn’t pride. It wasn’t performance. It was joy – pure, honest, contagious joy.
And I wasn’t just accepting the award for myself.
I was accepting it for every artist who’s ever trusted me with their dreams.
For my family and friends who have lifted me, supported me when it became too difficult to do it alone.
But mostly, I accepted that award for the little girl I once was. The one who felt odd, different – wrong – but who followed her vision anyway.
I wanted to reach back in time and tell her; tell her that she would one day win a cultural honor in France – urging her to keep following her stars even when it’s too dark to see them.
I want to tell that little girl that one day she will be seen.
And I want to thank you for seeing her with me.
P.S. Thank you to everyone filling the airwaves on social media with your kind words and congratulations. Here’s a little snapshot of the love that’s been lighting up my feed ❤️
helped thousands of artists and I can help you too.