Nanzie McLeod

Agnes Jane McLeod, who has died aged 81, was a gifted teacher, artist, dancer and writer whose remarkable life was firmly rooted in the west end of Glasgow and the East Neuk of Fife. She founded the Nanzie McLeod School of Dance.

She was born into the settled community of Hyndland but her childhood was far from typical. Her parents separated when she was still an infant and she was brought up by her mother Annie Cumming. This led to an exceptionally close relationship which grew even stronger when Annie began to show the symptoms of MS. Nanzie was only 10 at the time but she quickly adopted the roles of carer and housekeeper, as well as constant companion to her disabled parent. Their time together was spent reading, playing games and craft-making. But as her mobility decreased, Annie also encouraged the teenager to pursue outside interests, and Nanzie joined the dance school run by Miss Margaret Hopkins. From pupil she progressed to teacher, passing all the qualifying exams and choreographing pieces for displays.

The other great influences in her childhood were her grandparents. Her grandfather was the successful artist John McGhie, who had gone from the Haldane Academy (later Glasgow School of Art) to study in London and Paris, before returning to Scotland and establishing a reputation as a painter of portraits and seascapes. His wife Agnes was much younger and noted for her vivacity and charm.

The young Nanzie was a frequent visitor to their elegant Charing Cross flat and the simple house in Pittenweem where McGhie had his summer studio. At the beginning of the Second World War, mother and daughter moved there for safety and for a time Nanzie attended the local primary school, but she soon returned to the Glasgow High School for Girls. From there she followed her grandfather and mother to Glasgow School of Art, where she gained a Fine Art Diploma, adding a teaching qualification to work in various Glasgow schools where she introduced craft and design work.

The next 20 years were devoted to family matters – marriage, the raising of four daughters and two spells in Canada, the first thoroughly enjoyed, the second less satisfactory. Her mother was included at all stages: her wheelchair was an essential part of the luggage when she decided to return to Scotland with her mother and children, leaving their father to make a new life across the Atlantic.

Along the way she had taken the chance to study the Martha Graham technique and combined this with her ballet training to create her own style of modern dance. Back in her west end flat she founded the Nanzie McLeod School of Dance, holding up to 10 classes a week for children and adults. These classes continued for more than 40 years, up to a fortnight before her death, and many of the pupils became lasting friends. She later set up painting workshops for adults, adding another strand to her social network.

Over in Fife she organised a pageant for the 400 years of Pittenweem's parish church and contributed to the town's annual festival of art. One of her exhibitions was of Seven Elder Statesmen, a series of lifesize portraits of local worthies. She not only painted the men and the tools of their various trades, but backed the display with videoed interviews: she had long been a confident film-maker but now embraced the new technology. She was also happy to be interviewed and add her views to programmes broadcast on radio and television.

For many years she had written stories and verses drawn from experience and imagination, and in her 50s started gathering these writings for publication under her own imprint. A keen swimmer and supporter of the baths club which the family attended, she compiled a book of Tales of the Arlington, which was published in 1990.

In the next decade she launched Tales of the East Neuk, which drew on family history and was followed by two fat paperbacks of thinly disguised autobiography (Pittenweem Sojourn and Hyndland Portrait), more short story collections, a children's picture story and a slim book of mainly comic verse. These attracted a growing following among readers who could identify with much of the domestic detail and sense of place. Her ninth book, in which she probably took most pride, was the first full account of John McGhie's life and work, handsomely illustrated with his drawings and paintings of fishergirls and harbours.

Though always soft spoken, she held strong views on everything from child-rearing to saving the planet. She could be dismissive of fashions in taste or attitude, and sometimes judgemental on human frailties. She deplored waste or indolence and was constantly driven to achieve a new project. She loved cats and gardening and liked to do her own thing. Her creativity extended to every aspect of living, but she also encouraged others to discover their own creative skills. She accepted individuals as they were and warmly welcomed all comers around her kitchen table for tea and home-baking.

She was at the hub of many overlapping circles of friends and admirers who will miss her sorely. Her passing leaves a real gap in their lives, but also lively memories of a quite remarkable character with a caring interest in people, an immediate impulse to help and inform and a lively sense of fun.

She is survived by her four daughters, six grandchildren and one great-grandson.