... was one of HTV's occasional outings on the ITV network. Occupying a 12.30 or 3.30pm, 'filler' slot, the programme attempted to teach viewers - ostensibly housewives and sick school children - to paint. The lessons consisted of Nancy rendering a picture in twenty-five minutes. A 'handsome' woman, her towering frame and broad Pennsylvanian accent diminished all around her - including her paintings - a formidable achievement in itself.

Her co-host for the early episodes was Alan Taylor - for many years regarded as the voice of HTV. A well-liked figure, Alan was a sort of latter day Richard Whiteley; he never seemed particularly comfortable in the show - as a fan of Caravaggio he was clearly an art lover. However, the reason for his presence was clear - he was the interested amateur, the viewer's representative to Nancy who was there to ask all the difficult questions. Seldom did though ...

For Nancy was a law unto herself; here was someone who knew what she wanted and, more importantly, what she didn't need - not for her, the usual artist's trappings; the tortured existence, the louche Parisian garret ... a brush. Nancy not only threw a pot of paint in the public's face - she chucked the easel too; and her studio was their studio - HTV's Bath Road premises in Bristol.

The set, and the sense of timelessness it suggested was a major contributory factor to the show's atmosphere. A simple creation - a flat with a few Moorish holes punched in it partially obscured by a bit of net curtain, was the background to her magic. Together with her offset palette knife (never any mention of an offset palette) and copious amounts of curiously appropriate bog-roll, Nancy would set out to create a picture in twenty-five minutes. She never failed.

Starting with the ritual wash of burnt umber and turpentine (Alan: 'This is burnt umber - the colour'), Nancy would then follow through with a set of grid lines (to place the subject) and roughly sketch in a drawing of sorts - this always the most prized part of the show, as we could watch Nancy wield a brush, before she moved on to the cutlery. The subjects were many and varied, Vase of Flowers, Rocky Coast, Fruit in a Bowl … Rocky Flowers … Fruit on the Coast.

The main duration of the show would be occupied with Nancy caking on the Rowney Georgian with a vigorous disregard for moderation. During the 'session' (as Alan liked to call it), Nancy would dispense wise counsel to her avid home students.

Breaking off only to refuel her knife with another bucket-full of Vermilion Crimson, Nancy would implore viewers to copy from the impressionists, 'as they have distortion of form' (conveniently) - her own influences extending from Pissarro to the then-young Aiden J. Harvey. 'Paint what you see and not what you know to be there', (Alan always got this mixed up) and to a lady who asked her 'Why paint?' she replied 'I paint to match the drapes.' (Insert chip-pan fire-gag here).

Another viewer wrote in about Nancy's formidable speed. The correspondent complained that Nancy was appending her signature and Alan signing off while she had only just finished erecting her easel. Nancy explained gently that the title, 'Paint Along With Nancy' was not meant to be taken too literally.

It wasn't enough however that Nancy should paint a picture in a mere 25 minutes - oh, no - she'd already done an earlier version before the cameras even started to roll. This was for 'the recap' - one of the show's highlights, where the picture would paint itself in less time than even Nancy could manage. This sequence, (shot on 16mm although, curiously edited on VT) was always heralded by a luxurious chord on the harp. On hearing this cue, Alan would step smartly to one side, better to accommodate the inset picture.

The show would end with Alan spluttering amazement, gratitude and admiration at Nancy's ability to 'paint a picture in the session … apart for a little touching up'. End titles would roll - usually a recap of the recap (since they'd spent all that money on shooting it in the first place) and a list of weird and wonderful credits that added the finishing touch to this surreal quagmire; Biggs ... Dromgoole ... Doncaster …

And then suddenly, she was gone. Whatever happened to Nancy Kominsky? The last sightings were a video in John Menzies, Greater Manchester (Middleton Branch) in 1987 and a second-hand how-to-paint book on a market stall in Aberdeen in 1998. Sadly, neither tied in with the HTV series. More importantly, what happened to all those pictures? We can only wonder. Decorating the mantle-shelves of Bristolian collectors? Nestling provocatively on the walls of provincial art galleries? Fueling open fires? The possibilities are endless.

Nancy's demise is the TV art world's loss. Today it's left to Alwyn Crawshaw (the nearest we've come to Nancy's TV successor) to continue the tradition of regionally produced how-to-paint in twenty-five minutes, low-budget TV programmes. It's just not the same though, for various reasons - not least the association of watching Nancy with being off from school. The main trouble is, compared to Nancy, Crawshaw and his ilk have so little style; he looks like a artist, he goes outside, finds a subject and actually looks at it while painting it. He even uses a brush! Where's the skill in that?