Garthim's contribution to 2121 Time Capsule, a group show at Goodbuy Gallery, Bucharest curated by Christian Roncea, is this letter by Isabelle Adams. Written to a reader in the distant future, the letter has been archived in a time capsule alongside digital documentation of "Dewdrop Toadstool Hopscotch," the artist's 2020 solo exhibition with Garthim. We hope you enjoy the text as much as we do.

Dear Reader,
Welcome to Dewdrop Toadstool Hopscotch.
Maybe soap is obsolete now, considering the hands for washing might be fabricated, ultra slick, lubricated cyborg sinew whose properties do not require routine hygienic preparations. If that's the case, maybe your body is prone to short circuiting when in contact with water, so what good would a soluble germ-killer do for you? On the other hand maybe you inhabit some plastic composite post heat death Chernobyl-esque body, and the idea of washing up is too far gone to even consider. So with all this in mind, maybe the soap-driven context of my show is lost on you. I wonder, then, what remains? Is it strange to see these little humanoid fanfic carvings perched atop a once rich and living forest? Is the forest still there? In that case, maybe, in another future, where all of us object makers have been crucified for our sins against the planet, you are the rodent tearing through this “time capsule” only in search of satiating grub-- sorry, no dice. In any case, I see no utility in me providing you with instructions on how to use this thing, for my perspective is one that, like soap, is probably obsolete in 2121. Take stock of it. Eat it. Scan it. Put it on the cloud. Dip it in milk. Drain it. Make it data. Do its taxes. Take its records for census. Vote with it. Jerk off with it. Throw it away. Test out your jokes on it. Find my grave and hurl it into the dirt that shrouds me. I won't notice, I'm dead!
All the best,
Isabelle Adams