Review by David Brickman
Who doesn’t love Roz Chast? Her quirky take on life, as seen in countless New Yorker cartoons and covers, is the essence of contemporary American neurosis and it makes us laugh in recognition of our own foibles (or, more likely, those of our friends and relatives).
So, one recent lovely summer day we took a trip to Stockbridge to enjoy Roz Chast: Cartoon Memoirs at the Norman Rockwell Museum – and were immediately immersed in Roz’s world. And I don’t just mean immersed via the scads of drawings and artifacts on view. I mean immersed as in, by pure chance, we ran into Roz’s cousin Nancy, from Albany, who knew one of my sisters in Jewish youth group about 50 years ago, along with Nancy’s husband, and, yes, they were depicted rather accurately in a family group portrait included in the Memoirs on display.
It used to be you wouldn’t be surprised to run into one of Norman Rockwell’s former child models in Stockbridge – but this was a Roz Chast show in 2015, so we got cousin Nancy instead, and it was even better.