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If you're planning washroom remodeling, you may want to steer clear of engaging Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Indeed, Herfeldt is an expert using sealant applicators, crafting intriguing creations from this unlikely substance. Yet as you look at her creations, the more one notices that something seems somewhat strange.

The dense strands of sealant she produces reach over the shelves where they rest, sagging over the sides below. Those twisted foam pipes expand until they split. A few artworks leave the display cases completely, turning into a collector for grime and particles. One could imagine the feedback would not be positive.

There are moments I feel an impression that items are alive inside an area,” remarks Herfeldt. “That’s why I started using silicone sealant due to its this very bodily feel and appearance.”

Certainly there is an element somewhat grotesque in the artist's creations, starting with the phallic bulge that protrudes, hernia-like, from the support at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes from the material which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed photocopies depicting the sculptures captured in multiple views: they look like squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations in a lab setting.

“It interests me is the idea within us taking place that seem to hold their own life,” the artist notes. “Things that are invisible or manage.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement for the show displays a photograph showing a dripping roof within her workspace in the German capital. It was erected decades ago and according to her, was instantly hated among the community as numerous old buildings were removed for its development. The place was dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich but grew up near Hamburg prior to moving to the capital during her teens – began using the space.

The rundown building was frustrating to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang the sculptures without concern potential harm – yet it also proved intriguing. Without any blueprints accessible, no one knew methods to address any of the issues which occurred. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the only solution was to replace it with another – and so the cycle continued.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe that a series of shower basins were set up in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

“I realised that the building acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

These conditions evoked memories of the sci-fi movie, John Carpenter’s debut 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice through the heading – a trio of references – that’s not the only film impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names refer to the leading women in the slasher film, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga respectively. The artist references a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, outlining these surviving characters as a unique film trope – women left alone to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, on the silent side and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” says Herfeldt regarding this trope. No drug use occurs or have sex. Regardless the viewer’s gender, we can all identify with this character.”

The artist identifies a connection from these protagonists to her artworks – objects which only maintaining position despite the pressures they face. So is her work more about social breakdown than just leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield us from damage are gradually failing around us.

“Completely,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration using foam materials, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Previous exhibitions featured tongue-like shapes made from a synthetic material you might see within outdoor gear or inside a jacket. Once more, there's the impression these peculiar objects seem lifelike – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, pieces hang loosely on vertical planes or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, these nylon creations also occupy – and breaking out of – budget-style display enclosures. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“They have a specific look that draws viewers compelled by, and at the same time appearing gross,” the artist comments amusedly. “It tries to be not there, however, it is extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making work to make you feel relaxation or visual calm. Conversely, she aims for uncomfortable, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's something wet dripping on your head additionally, consider yourself the alert was given.