![]() ![]() He was in dialogue with history, learning from and building on his activist and literary forebears. Tim was a lifelong instigator, with sincere faith in personal transformation and communal agency. Tim embodied his roots, but he was also an anomaly, “a city kid born in a country body.” In 1975, he left for New York on a Greyhound bus to study Conceptualism at the School of Visual Arts. “Born and raised in the hills of central rural Maine, American pragmatism is built into my DNA,” he’d say. Charlotte, his ever-resourceful mother, taught him, “We aren’t poor. ![]() Don’t get in my way.” Tim came from down-home, working-class stock, a big country familyPentecostal Baptist. He delivered his first manifesto at five years old, to his parents: “When I grow up I want to be an artist, a teacher, and a scientist. ![]() Tim was uncannily self-possessedpurposeful from an early age. Locking eyes with a possible Kids of Survivalor K.O.S.recruit, he’d solemnly ask, “Do you believe in love at first sight?” The room came alive when Tim spoke. “Do you want to make history?” he’d yell at a group of students. Quick to coin a potent phrase, Tim’s audacity was intelligent and strategic. Photo: Chris Felver/Getty Images.ĪFTER TIM DIED, I incessantly watched videos of him conducting workshops and giving his remarkable preaching-and-teaching talks. in their South Bronx studio, New York, 1992. ![]()
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