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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it's advisable to steer clear of employing Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Certainly, she's a whiz in handling foam materials, producing fascinating creations from this unlikely medium. Yet the more observe her creations, the more it becomes apparent that something is a little off.

The thick tubes made of silicone she produces extend past the shelves where they rest, hanging over the sides towards the floor. The gnarled foam pipes swell till they rupture. Certain pieces escape the display cases fully, turning into an attractor of debris and fibers. One could imagine the reviews are unlikely to earn favorable.

At times I get the feeling that things are alive in a room,” states the German artist. “That’s why I came to use this foam material because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

Certainly one can detect almost visceral in the artist's creations, starting with the suggestive swelling jutting out, like a medical condition, from the support within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals made of silicone that burst as if in crisis. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed photocopies depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: they look like wormy parasites picked up on a microscope, or growths on culture plates.

I am fascinated by is the idea inside human forms happening that also have a life of their own,” she says. “Things which remain unseen or control.”

Regarding unmanageable factors, the poster featured in the exhibition includes a picture of water damage overhead at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s and, she says, was instantly hated by local people because a lot of historic structures were removed in order to make way for it. By the time in a state of disrepair when Herfeldt – originally from Munich but grew up in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – began using the space.

The rundown building proved challenging for her work – placing artworks was difficult her art works without concern potential harm – however, it was intriguing. Without any blueprints on hand, it was unclear the way to fix the malfunctions that developed. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the single remedy involved installing the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that several drainage containers got placed in the suspended ceiling to channel the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that the building was like a body, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

This scenario reminded her of a classic film, the initial work movie from the seventies featuring a smart spaceship that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice given the naming – a trio of references – that’s not the only film impacting the artist's presentation. The three names indicate main characters from a horror classic, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit respectively. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay by the American professor, which identifies these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – women left alone to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet and they endure because she’s quite clever,” says Herfeldt regarding this trope. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. Regardless who is watching, we can all identify with the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a similarity linking these figures with her creations – objects which only holding in place amidst stress they face. Does this mean the art more about social breakdown beyond merely leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, such components meant to insulate and guard us from damage are gradually failing in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, the artist worked with other unusual materials. Recent shows have involved forms resembling tongues made from fabric similar to found in in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Similarly, one finds the sense these strange items seem lifelike – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily from walls blocking passages collecting debris from touch (The artist invites viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). Like the silicone sculptures, the textile works are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – budget-style acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, which is intentional.

“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one very attracted to, and at the same time appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks with a smile. “It tries to be not there, yet in reality very present.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Conversely, she wants you to feel discomfort, odd, or even humor. And if there's something wet dripping on your head as well, consider yourself this was foreshadowed.