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If you're planning bathroom renovations, it might be wise to steer clear of employing Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, Herfeldt is a whiz in handling foam materials, crafting fascinating sculptures with a surprising medium. However as you look at the artworks, the more you realise that something feels slightly off.

The thick lengths made of silicone she crafts reach past the shelves supporting them, sagging off the edges below. The knotty foam pipes bulge till they rupture. Some creations escape their transparent enclosures entirely, becoming an attractor for grime and particles. Let's just say the feedback would not be favorable.

There are moments I feel this sense that things are alive in a room,” says Herfeldt. “That’s why I started using silicone sealant because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

Indeed there’s something somewhat grotesque in Herfeldt’s work, starting with that protruding shape which extends, like a medical condition, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils made of silicone that rupture like medical emergencies. Along a surface, are mounted images of the works captured in multiple views: appearing as microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or formations on a petri-dish.

“It interests me that there are things inside human forms happening that seem to hold independent existence,” the artist notes. Phenomena which remain unseen or control.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the promotional image featured in the exhibition displays a picture showing a dripping roof at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed made in the seventies and according to her, faced immediate dislike by local people since many historic structures got demolished in order to make way for it. It was already run-down upon her – originally from Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin in her youth – moved in.

The rundown building proved challenging for her work – she couldn’t hang her pieces without fearing potential harm – however, it was intriguing. With no building plans accessible, no one knew methods to address the problems which occurred. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the sole fix involved installing the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

In a different area, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad that several collection units were set up above the false roof to channel leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the building was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” the artist comments.

This scenario brought to mind a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note given the naming – a trio of references – that’s not the only film to have influenced this exhibition. The three names point to the leading women from a horror classic, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit in that order. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay from a scholar, which identifies these surviving characters an original movie concept – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. And it doesn’t matter who is watching, all empathize with the final girl.”

She draws a connection linking these figures with her creations – things that are just about holding in place under strain they’re under. Is the exhibition really concerning cultural decay rather than simply dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, these materials that should seal and protect against harm are actually slowly eroding within society.

“Completely,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, she experimented with other unusual materials. Past displays have involved tongue-like shapes crafted from a synthetic material found in on a sleeping bag or in coats. Similarly, one finds the impression such unusual creations seem lifelike – a few are compressed as insects in motion, some droop heavily from walls or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (The artist invites people to handle and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, these nylon creations are similarly displayed in – and escaping from – cheap looking display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel very attracted to, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments grinning. “It attempts to seem invisible, however, it is very present.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Conversely, she aims for unease, odd, or even humor. But if you start to feel water droplets on your head additionally, don’t say this was foreshadowed.