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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it's advisable to avoid engaging Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, Herfeldt is a whiz in handling foam materials, crafting intriguing artworks with a surprising substance. But as you look at her creations, the more it becomes apparent a certain aspect is a little unnerving.

The dense lengths made of silicone she produces reach beyond their supports where they rest, drooping over the sides to the ground. Those twisted tubular forms swell till they rupture. A few artworks escape the display cases entirely, evolving into a collector for grime and particles. It's safe to say the ratings would not be positive.

“I sometimes have the feeling that objects seem animated within a space,” says the sculptor. Hence I came to use this substance as it offers such an organic texture and feeling.”

In fact there is an element rather body horror in these sculptures, starting with that protruding shape which extends, hernia-like, from the support within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals made of silicone which split open as if in crisis. On one wall, the artist presents photocopies showing the pieces captured in multiple views: they look like squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or formations in a lab setting.

I am fascinated by that there are things in our bodies taking place that also have their own life,” she says. Phenomena you can’t see or control.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the poster featured in the exhibition features an image showing a dripping roof in her own studio in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s as she explains, faced immediate dislike among the community because a lot of old buildings were torn down for its development. It was already run-down as the artist – originally from Munich but grew up north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin in her youth – began using the space.

This deteriorating space caused issues for her work – placing artworks was difficult her pieces anxiously potential harm – however, it was intriguing. Without any blueprints on hand, it was unclear the way to fix any of the issues which occurred. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the only solution was to replace it with another – thus repeating the process.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe so multiple drainage containers were set up in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the building resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

This scenario reminded her of the sci-fi movie, the initial work 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note given the naming – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced impacting the artist's presentation. These titles point to the female protagonists from a horror classic, another scary movie and Alien respectively. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay by the American professor, which identifies these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – women left alone to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates about such characters. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. It is irrelevant who is watching, we can all identify with this character.”

She draws a connection linking these figures to her artworks – things that are just about maintaining position amidst stress affecting them. So is her work more about cultural decay rather than simply leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield from deterioration in fact are decaying around us.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Recent shows have involved tongue-like shapes crafted from a synthetic material you might see in insulated clothing or in coats. Once more, there's the impression these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily off surfaces or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and soil the works). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are also housed in – and breaking out of – budget-style display enclosures. These are unattractive objects, and that's the essence.

“The sculptures exhibit a specific look that somehow you feel highly drawn to, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” Herfeldt remarks with a smile. “It tries to be absent, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel relaxation or visual calm. Instead, she wants you to feel unease, strange, or even humor. But if you start to feel something wet dripping on your head too, don’t say you haven’t been warned.