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If you're planning bathroom renovations, you may want to avoid employing Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Truly, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, creating compelling creations from this unlikely art material. However as you examine her creations, the stronger you realise that something is a little unnerving.

Those hefty strands of sealant she produces stretch past display surfaces on which they sit, sagging off the edges below. The gnarled silicone strands bulge until they split. Some creations break free from the display cases fully, becoming a collector for dust and hair. One could imagine the reviews would not be favorable.

There are moments I feel this sense that objects seem animated within a space,” says the German artist. Hence I turned to this foam material due to its this very bodily feel and appearance.”

In fact there is an element somewhat grotesque regarding these sculptures, including that protruding shape that protrudes, like a medical condition, from its cylindrical stand within the showspace, and the winding tubes made of silicone that burst like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, Herfeldt has framed prints of the works viewed from different angles: resembling microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me that there are things in our bodies occurring that seem to hold a life of their own,” she says. “Things you can’t see or command.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event features an image of the leaky ceiling within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been erected decades ago as she explains, faced immediate dislike by local people because a lot of older edifices were torn down in order to make way for it. It was already dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth in northern Germany then relocating to Berlin in her youth – moved in.

This decrepit property caused issues for the artist – it was risky to display the sculptures anxiously risk of ruin – yet it also proved compelling. With no building plans available, no one knew methods to address any of the issues that developed. When the ceiling panel within her workspace became so sodden it gave way completely, the single remedy meant swapping the damaged part – perpetuating the issue.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe that several drainage containers were set up in the suspended ceiling to divert the water to a different sink.

“I realised that the structure was like a body, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

This scenario reminded her of the sci-fi movie, the director's first movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. And as you might notice through the heading – a trio of references – more movies have inspired impacting the artist's presentation. These titles indicate the leading women in Friday 13th, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit as listed. She mentions a 1987 essay from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” as a unique film trope – women left alone to overcome.

They often display toughness, on the silent side enabling their survival due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt about such characters. They avoid substances or engage intimately. It is irrelevant who is watching, all empathize with this character.”

The artist identifies a connection linking these figures and her sculptures – things that are just about holding in place despite the pressures they’re under. So is her work more about social breakdown beyond merely water damage? Similar to various systems, these materials that should seal and protect us from damage in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Recent shows featured forms resembling tongues using fabric similar to you might see on a sleeping bag or apparel lining. Similarly, one finds the sense such unusual creations seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily off surfaces or extend through entries collecting debris from touch (The artist invites people to handle leaving marks on pieces). Similar to the foam artworks, the textile works are also housed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a particular style that somehow you feel compelled by, and at the same time appearing gross,” she says grinning. “The art aims for absent, however, it is very present.”

The artist does not create art to provide relaxation or visual calm. Rather, she aims for unease, strange, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel a moist sensation overhead too, remember the alert was given.