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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, it's advisable to avoid employing Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, she's an expert in handling foam materials, creating intriguing sculptures from this unlikely art material. However longer you look at the artworks, the stronger you realise a certain aspect feels slightly strange.

The dense strands from the foam she produces extend past their supports where they rest, sagging over the sides towards the floor. The gnarled foam pipes bulge till they rupture. Some creations leave their acrylic glass box homes entirely, becoming a magnet of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the feedback might not get positive.

There are moments I feel the feeling that items possess life within a space,” remarks Herfeldt. This is why I turned to this foam material due to its this very bodily sensation and look.”

Certainly there’s something somewhat grotesque in these sculptures, starting with the suggestive swelling which extends, similar to a rupture, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils made of silicone that rupture resembling bodily failures. On one wall, are mounted photocopies of the works seen from various perspectives: resembling wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or formations on culture plates.

I am fascinated by that there are things in our bodies happening that seem to hold a life of their own,” she says. “Things you can’t see or manage.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the promotional image for the show features a picture of water damage overhead within her workspace in the German capital. It was made in the seventies and, she says, faced immediate dislike among the community as numerous older edifices were torn down in order to make way for it. The place was run-down when Herfeldt – originally from Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg prior to moving to the capital during her teens – moved in.

The rundown building was frustrating to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang the sculptures without fearing risk of ruin – yet it also proved intriguing. With no building plans accessible, no one knew how to repair any of the issues that arose. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the only solution was to replace the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

In a different area, the artist explains dripping was extreme so multiple collection units were installed above the false roof to divert leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the structure resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

This scenario reminded her of Dark Star, the director's first 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice given the naming – three distinct names – that’s not the only film shaping this exhibition. These titles indicate the female protagonists in the slasher film, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit respectively. The artist references a critical analysis by the American professor, which identifies these surviving characters as a unique film trope – female characters isolated to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs nor sexual activity. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, all empathize with this character.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel between these characters and her sculptures – things that are just about holding in place amidst stress affecting them. Does this mean the art really concerning societal collapse rather than simply dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm are gradually failing in our environment.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Recent shows have involved organic-looking pieces made from fabric similar to you might see on a sleeping bag or in coats. Again there is the feeling these peculiar objects could come alive – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily from walls blocking passages collecting debris from touch (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). Like the silicone sculptures, the textile works are also housed in – and escaping from – cheap looking display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, which is intentional.

“These works possess a specific look that somehow you feel highly drawn to, while also appearing gross,” the artist comments with a smile. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality very present.”

The artist does not create art to provide comfortable or visual calm. Conversely, she aims for discomfort, awkward, or even humor. However, should you notice water droplets on your head additionally, don’t say this was foreshadowed.