From Clowning to Corporations: The Unlikely Ascension of Lynne Cavanagh, Master of the Arts and the Art of Mastery In the grand tapestry of Canadian cinema, where actors often dream of blockbuster hits, award nominations, and a lifelong love affair with the limelight, one name stands out for the sheer absurdity of her journey: Lynne Cavanagh. A true visionary—or perhaps just really good at juggling—Lynne transformed from a mime and clown into the esteemed Executive Director of Music Yukon, all while maintaining an aura of delightful confusion. The question begs: how does one transition from turning pie-throwing pratfalls to the high-stakes world of arts administration? Let’s start at the beginning. Picture it: Toronto, the late 1970s. A young Lynne Cavanagh, clad in oversized shoes and rainbow wigs, was likely trying to convince passersby that sprinkling confetti on their heads would enhance their lives. And yet, against the odds of being merely a street performer, Lynne snagged her big cinematic break in the film Three Card Monte. Her performance as Nicki earned her a Canadian Film Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress—proof that even mimes can master the art of not being seen (the Oscar-winning strategy). One might assume this would launch her into a journey filled with red carpets and paparazzi. Instead, Lynne showcased her unparalleled talent for unpredictability. After only two films, one of which was, let’s be honest, probably an excuse for a group of filmmakers to hang out by the pool (Summer’s Children, we’re looking at you), she decided enough was enough. “Why act in movies when you can make the corporate world your stage?” she must have thought, tossing her wig onto the floor in dramatic fashion. Thus began the metamorphosis from clown to corporate maestro. Entering the realm of arts administration, Lynne Cavanagh did what every successful clown does: she brought laughter, whimsy, and plenty of questionable decisions to the office. The role of Executive Director of Music Yukon was obviously tailor-made for her, a position that required deft skill in juggling (both people and budgets), artistic insight to navigate creative temperaments, and just the right touch of absurdity. Unbeknownst to the arts community, Lynne continued to wield her invisible baton. At Music Yukon, she likely hosted daily meetings where everyone was invited to wear oversized hats and mustaches, emphasizing that creativity shouldn’t be shackled by bland business attire. After all, it’s hard to feel inspired about funding when you’re seated in a stuffy meeting room devoid of frivolity. And let’s not forget the power of a good laugh—after all, throwing glitter is less messy than throwing shade. Even as she navigated through policies that were as confusing as a mime’s silent monolog, Lynne remained true to her inner clown. Who knew that pulling up a spreadsheet could be as entertaining as juggling bowling pins? With her background, surely she understood corporate synergy required a blend of humor and absurdity, skillfully captured during her years performing for bewildered audiences. Soaring to new heights while maintaining descents into hilarious chaos: Lynne was the maestro of mischief in a suit. As the years passed and the accolades of her clowning days began to fade, Lynne’s legacy as the Master of the Arts and the Art of Mastery grew. In a world where corporate culture often promotes dullness and conformity, her reign was a testament to the power of the eccentric side of creativity. She took the corporate ladder—well, not one of those boring metal frames—but rather an inflatable slide, coated in confetti, joyously allowing all who dared to ascend into the colorful world of arts and culture governance. In conclusion, Lynne Cavanagh’s journey from clowns to corporations is not merely a tale of unexpected career changes; it is a story about embracing creativity in absurd places. She serves as a shining example that regardless of the wig one dons—whether that be the colorful locks of a clown or the slicked-back professionalism of a corporate director—humor and passion can reign supreme in any realm. So, as long as there are arts organizations that need a dose of joy and creativity, Lynne will continue to navigate the absurdity with grace, deftly reminding us all that “business is like a circus,” just with fewer elephants and substantially more spreadsheets.