The Red Thread by Mado Reznik

This book is an impossible journey through the childhood of my father. Impossible means lack of any kind of certainty and the need to look for some meaning in order to understand a life's account as pieces of a verisimilitude narrative. My father lived in an orphanage after his father (a very poor immigrant who probably committed suicide) died at an asylum when he was seven years old. I have been looking for his face in a lot of photos that I have been gathering for years. Two polar coordinates cross here: the certainty of the search and the uncertainty of not having any picture of his infancy. As with any memory I work with a map that is partially known. The work is to fill out the gaps with words, mental images, feelings and also with silences. The red thread stands for the silver thread that bonds a body and a soul but also for the threads that my grandmother used as a seamstress when she became a young immigrant widow with four kids. The Red Thread. The Blood Thread.