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If you're planning restroom upgrades, it might be wise to steer clear of hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Truly, Herfeldt is an expert with a silicone gun, crafting compelling creations out of an unusual art material. However the more look at the artworks, the stronger it becomes apparent that something is a little off.

Those hefty lengths from the foam she crafts reach beyond the shelves on which they sit, drooping off the edges towards the floor. The gnarled silicone strands expand till they rupture. A few artworks leave their acrylic glass box homes entirely, evolving into a magnet of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the ratings would not be pretty.

“I sometimes have this sense that things seem animated within a space,” says the sculptor. “That’s why I came to use silicone sealant due to its this very bodily feel and appearance.”

In fact there is an element rather body horror in Herfeldt’s work, starting with the phallic bulge that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, to the intestinal coils from the material that burst resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, are mounted prints of the works captured in multiple views: they look like squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations in a lab setting.

“It interests me is how certain elements in our bodies happening that also have their own life,” the artist notes. “Things that are invisible or command.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement for the show features a photograph of water damage overhead in her own studio located in Berlin. It was made in the seventies as she explains, was instantly hated by local people because a lot of older edifices were removed for its development. By the time in a state of disrepair as the artist – a native of that city although she spent her youth near Hamburg then relocating to Berlin as a teenager – took up residence.

This decrepit property proved challenging to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang her art works anxiously risk of ruin – yet it also proved compelling. With no building plans on hand, it was unclear the way to fix any of the issues that developed. After a part of the roof within her workspace became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the sole fix was to replace the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad that a series of collection units were set up above the false roof in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that this place resembled an organism, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

The situation reminded her of a classic film, the initial work cinematic piece featuring a smart spaceship which becomes autonomous. Additionally, observers may note given the naming – three distinct names – that’s not the only film impacting the artist's presentation. The three names refer to the leading women in the slasher film, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis by the American professor, which identifies the last women standing an original movie concept – female characters isolated to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, on the silent side and they endure because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. Regardless the viewer’s gender, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

She draws a similarity from these protagonists to her artworks – things that are just about maintaining position despite the pressures affecting them. Is the exhibition really concerning societal collapse than just leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, such components that should seal and protect us from damage are actually slowly eroding in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions included tongue-like shapes using a synthetic material found in on a sleeping bag or in coats. Again there is the sense these peculiar objects might animate – a few are compressed as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely on vertical planes blocking passages attracting dirt from footprints (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces also occupy – and escaping from – cheap looking acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one compelled by, while also appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks grinning. “It attempts to seem not there, yet in reality very present.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't work to make you feel ease or beauty. Instead, her intention is to evoke discomfort, awkward, maybe even amused. However, should you notice a moist sensation from above too, don’t say this was foreshadowed.