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When considering bathroom renovations, it might be wise not to choose employing Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Indeed, she's highly skilled in handling foam materials, crafting intriguing sculptures from this unlikely art material. Yet longer you look at these pieces, the clearer it becomes apparent that something seems somewhat unnerving.

The thick lengths from the foam she produces extend beyond display surfaces where they rest, sagging over the sides below. The knotty silicone strands swell till they rupture. Some creations leave the display cases entirely, turning into a magnet for grime and particles. Let's just say the ratings are unlikely to earn positive.

There are moments I feel the feeling that items seem animated inside an area,” states Herfeldt. This is why I turned to this substance as it offers this very bodily sensation and look.”

Indeed one can detect rather body horror about these sculptures, including the phallic bulge jutting out, hernia-like, from the support in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals from the material that rupture resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: appearing as squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or growths in a lab setting.

“It interests me is the idea within us occurring that also have a life of their own,” Herfeldt explains. “Things you can’t see or manage.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the poster promoting the event displays an image of the leaky ceiling at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed made in the seventies and according to her, was instantly hated among the community since many historic structures were torn down to allow its construction. It was already run-down when Herfeldt – originally from Munich yet raised in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin during her teens – took up residence.

The rundown building was frustrating for her work – she couldn’t hang the sculptures without concern they might be damaged – yet it also proved intriguing. Without any blueprints on hand, nobody had a clue methods to address the problems that arose. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the sole fix was to replace the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

At another site, she describes the leaking was so bad that several drainage containers were set up in the suspended ceiling to divert the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that the structure acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

This scenario reminded her of the sci-fi movie, the director's first 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice through the heading – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – more movies have inspired to have influenced this exhibition. These titles indicate the leading women in the slasher film, another scary movie and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. The artist references a critical analysis from a scholar, outlining these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or engage intimately. Regardless the viewer’s gender, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a similarity linking these figures and her sculptures – objects which only staying put under strain they’re under. Does this mean the art really concerning societal collapse rather than simply leaky ceilings? As with many structures, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm are gradually failing around us.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Past displays included organic-looking pieces crafted from fabric similar to you might see within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Once more, there's the sense these peculiar objects might animate – 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). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are also housed in – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic that draws viewers very attracted to, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” she says amusedly. “The art aims for invisible, yet in reality highly noticeable.”

Herfeldt is not making art to provide ease or visual calm. Conversely, she aims for uncomfortable, odd, or even humor. And if there's water droplets from above as well, remember the alert was given.