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When considering restroom upgrades, it might be wise to avoid engaging Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, Herfeldt is a whiz using sealant applicators, crafting fascinating sculptures out of an unusual substance. Yet the more look at the artworks, the clearer one notices that an element is a little off.

The dense lengths made of silicone she produces extend over display surfaces supporting them, sagging over the sides to the ground. The gnarled tubular forms expand until they split. A few artworks escape the display cases entirely, turning into a collector for grime and particles. Let's just say the ratings are unlikely to earn positive.

There are moments I feel an impression that items are alive inside an area,” says Herfeldt. Hence I turned to silicone sealant as it offers this very bodily feel and appearance.”

Indeed there is an element rather body horror regarding Herfeldt’s work, starting with the suggestive swelling jutting out, hernia-like, from the support within the showspace, and the winding tubes of foam that burst as if in crisis. On one wall, are mounted prints depicting the sculptures captured in multiple views: appearing as squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or colonies on a petri-dish.

“It interests me that there are things within us taking place which possess independent existence,” the artist notes. Elements which remain unseen or manage.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the promotional image featured in the exhibition features a picture of the leaky ceiling at her creative space in the German capital. Constructed made in the seventies and, she says, faced immediate dislike among the community as numerous old buildings got demolished for its development. It was already in a state of disrepair when Herfeldt – a native of that city yet raised north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital during her teens – moved in.

This decrepit property caused issues to Herfeldt – placing artworks was difficult her art works without concern risk of ruin – but it was also compelling. With no building plans available, no one knew methods to address the malfunctions which occurred. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it fell apart fully, the only solution was to replace the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

In a different area, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad that several drainage containers were installed in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the structure resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

This scenario brought to mind the sci-fi movie, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice given the naming – three distinct names – more movies have inspired impacting this exhibition. The three names indicate main characters in the slasher film, the iconic thriller plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions an academic paper written by Carol J Clover, outlining the last women standing a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival due to intelligence,” she elaborates about such characters. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. Regardless who is watching, everyone can relate to this character.”

The artist identifies a similarity from these protagonists to her artworks – things that are just about holding in place under strain they’re under. So is her work more about societal collapse beyond merely dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, such components that should seal and protect from deterioration in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” responds the artist.

Before finding inspiration using foam materials, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Past displays featured organic-looking pieces made from a synthetic material found in within outdoor gear or in coats. Similarly, one finds the sense these strange items seem lifelike – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, pieces hang loosely from walls blocking passages gathering grime from contact (The artist invites viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). As with earlier creations, the textile works are also housed in – and escaping from – cheap looking acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel compelled by, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” the artist comments grinning. “It tries to be absent, yet in reality highly noticeable.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't pieces that offer ease or beauty. Rather, she wants you to feel uncomfortable, odd, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel a moist sensation overhead as well, remember you haven’t been warned.