Nancy Dine, a filmmaker, muse and former wife of the artist Jim Dine, whose documentary about her husband earned her an Academy Award nomination, died on Sept. 6 at a hospital in Manhattan. She was 83.
Her son Jeremiah said the cause was complications of lung cancer.
Nancy and Jim Dine were 21 and 22 and married just a year when they moved to New York City from Ohio in 1958. They were immediately swept up in the city’s art scene. Along with Allan Kaprow, Claes Oldenburg and others, Mr. Dine was an impish instigator of so-called Happenings, performance art pieces that both rattled and inspired the art world. In one instance, he doused himself in paint and pretended to drink it.
Ms. Dine was his project manager, by turns hostess, seamstress, aide-de-camp and audience — whatever was necessary.
She was also his favorite muse, as he went on to make more enduring work, sometimes affixed with objects, mostly tools, and sometimes body parts. Over the many decades of their marriage, Mr. Dine made hundreds of drawings and prints of his wife.
“I’ve looked at her a long time,” he told the PBS talk-show host Charlie Rose in 1996, “but it’s a face that inspired me since I first knew her.”
Nancy Lee Minto was born on March 7, 1937, in Cleveland. Her father, Robert Earl Minto, was chief metallurgist and quality control manager at a steel company; her mother, Ann Marie (Garrity) Minto, was a homemaker.
Nancy met Mr. Dine at Ohio University, from which they would drive all night to New York City to visit the galleries there. They were eager to leave Ohio. And once in New York, they dived into the heady downtown scene. Unlike many of their young art peers, the couple were already parents, having had three sons in their 20s.
Caustic and witty, Ms. Dine was a formidable personality, a skilled photographer, cook, gardener and seamstress. (For a time she made her own clothes.) She took on the role of artist’s wife, not the easiest job, with “grace, style and blinding efficiency,” as Barbara Jakobson, the art collector and a friend of the couple in that era, said in an interview. “Nancy was a brilliant manager of complicated lives.”
When Mr. Dine was anointed a wunderkind and overwhelmed by his instant fame, Ms. Dine helped him cope. In 1967, with the New York art world “closing in” on him, as Mr. Dine put it, they moved to London and into the high bohemia of the era. Mick Jagger once broke up a fight among the Dines’s boys, who liked to play soccer in their townhouse, smashing a few windows as a result.
After four years there, the Dines moved to Putney, Vt., before returning to New York in the 1980s. The boys grew up in extraordinary settings, alongside Picassos, Matisses and portraits of Nancy, and were largely left to their own devices as their increasingly nomadic father decamped for Europe for months at a time.
“They treated us like adults,” said Matthew Dine, noting that he and his brothers called their parents by their first names.
Ms. Dine made a trio of short films about her husband in the mid-1990s. One, “Jim Dine: A Self Portrait on the Walls,” documented a project, an exercise in impermanence, in which he covered the walls of a German museum with enormous charcoal images — a frenzy of drawing that he had produced under a punishing six-day deadline — that wall painters in turn whitewashed at the close of the show six weeks later. The film earned an Academy Award nomination for best documentary, short subjects, in 1996.
Another film, “All About Looking,” captures a class Mr. Dine taught in Salzburg, Austria, at which his students, too, learn a lesson in process and impermanence as they smudge out the day’s work and draw over it. Stephen Holden, writing about the films in The New York Times, described them together as “a cleareyed portrait of a seasoned fine arts professional in the swim of a successful career.”
Mr. Dine had asked his wife to document his work. “It’s been 40 years of my trusting her eyes,” he told Mr. Rose when both he and Ms. Dine appeared on his PBS program in 1996, “so who else could do it but the person who knows me better than anyone in the world?”
Nonetheless, Ms. Dine had him sign a release waiving his right to dictate the finished product.
“Nancy was a creative force in her own right,” said Patsy Orlofsky, a textile conservator and historian who, with her late husband Myron, was a collector of Jim Dine’s work. “She was a stylish, urbane woman. Her sense of aesthetic was original, bohemian, brave.”
In addition to her sons Jeremiah, Matthew and a third son, Nick, Ms. Dine is survived by a brother, Robert Nelson Minto; eight grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. She and Mr. Dine separated in 1997 and divorced 10 years later.
In 2016, after three decades in the West Village loft she had once shared with Mr. Dine, Ms. Dine moved to a postwar high-rise overlooking Lincoln Center. Her son Nick, a designer, reworked his mother’s new apartment to create a contemporary show place, with a bright red door, pink Italian furniture and window frames sheathed in bronze vinyl.
Ms. Dine had jettisoned her old life with gusto, Nick Dine said. “She was fearless about letting go of her stuff,” he said. “It’s one of the pleasures of my life to have made something great for her. I called it her spaceship, which was going to send her to the next realm.”