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Should you be thinking about restroom upgrades, it might be wise to avoid employing Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Truly, Herfeldt is highly skilled in handling foam materials, creating fascinating creations out of an unusual substance. But the more examine the artworks, the clearer you realise that something feels slightly unnerving.

Those hefty tubes of sealant she produces reach past display surfaces where they rest, drooping off the edges below. The gnarled silicone strands swell till they rupture. Certain pieces escape the display cases fully, becoming a collector of debris and fibers. One could imagine the feedback are unlikely to earn pretty.

“I sometimes have an impression that objects are alive within a space,” says the sculptor. This is why I came to use silicone sealant because it has this very bodily sensation and look.”

Indeed one can detect almost visceral regarding Herfeldt’s work, including the suggestive swelling jutting out, like a medical condition, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, and the winding tubes of foam that rupture as if in crisis. On one wall, are mounted images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: resembling squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or growths on culture plates.

“It interests me that there are things in our bodies taking place that also have independent existence,” the artist notes. Phenomena you can’t see or command.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the poster promoting the event displays a photograph of water damage overhead at her creative space in the German capital. Constructed erected decades ago and, she says, was instantly hated from residents since many older edifices were removed to allow its construction. The place was run-down upon her – who was born in Munich yet raised north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin in her youth – moved in.

This decrepit property proved challenging for the artist – it was risky to display her pieces without concern they might be damaged – yet it also proved compelling. Without any blueprints on hand, nobody had a clue how to repair the problems that arose. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the single remedy meant swapping the panel with a new one – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe that a series of collection units got placed within the drop ceiling in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

“I realised that this place was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

The situation reminded her of a classic film, the initial work movie from the seventies concerning a conscious ship that takes on a life of its own. Additionally, observers may note through the heading – three distinct names – that’s not the only film shaping the artist's presentation. Those labels refer to the leading women in Friday 13th, the iconic thriller and Alien respectively. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay from a scholar, outlining the last women standing a distinctive cinematic theme – female characters isolated to overcome.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs nor sexual activity. It is irrelevant the viewer’s gender, all empathize with the final girl.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel linking these figures with her creations – things that are just about staying put amidst stress they’re under. Does this mean the art more about social breakdown than just leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, such components that should seal and protect from deterioration are gradually failing around us.

“Completely,” responds the artist.

Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Recent shows featured organic-looking pieces crafted from a synthetic material you might see within outdoor gear or inside a jacket. Again there is the feeling these peculiar objects might animate – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily from walls or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces are also housed in – leaving – budget-style transparent cases. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“The sculptures exhibit a specific look which makes one very attracted to, yet simultaneously appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “It tries to be absent, however, it is very present.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel relaxation or visual calm. Conversely, she wants you to feel uncomfortable, odd, perhaps entertained. However, should you notice something wet dripping from above too, remember this was foreshadowed.