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When considering restroom upgrades, it's advisable not to choose engaging Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Truly, Herfeldt is an expert in handling foam materials, producing compelling creations from this unlikely art material. But longer you examine her creations, the stronger you realise that an element is a little unnerving.

The thick lengths of sealant she crafts reach beyond the shelves supporting them, drooping over the sides below. The knotty silicone strands bulge until they split. Certain pieces leave the display cases completely, evolving into a magnet for grime and particles. It's safe to say the feedback might not get pretty.

At times I get the feeling that objects are alive in a room,” says the German artist. Hence I turned to silicone sealant because it has such an organic texture and feeling.”

Certainly one can detect somewhat grotesque in these sculptures, including the suggestive swelling that protrudes, hernia-like, off its base at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes of foam that rupture resembling bodily failures. On one wall, the artist presents images depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: they look like squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations in a lab setting.

What captivates me that there are things inside human forms taking place which possess their own life,” the artist notes. Elements which remain unseen or control.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the poster for the show features a picture of water damage overhead at her creative space in the German capital. It was built in the early 1970s as she explains, was instantly hated among the community as numerous older edifices got demolished for its development. The place was dilapidated upon her – originally from Munich yet raised north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin during her teens – began using the space.

This deteriorating space was frustrating for the artist – it was risky to display the sculptures without fearing potential harm – however, it was fascinating. Without any blueprints on hand, it was unclear the way to fix the problems that developed. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio became so sodden it fell apart fully, the sole fix meant swapping the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that a series of drainage containers were set up above the false roof in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the structure resembled an organism, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

These conditions evoked memories of a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. Additionally, observers may note given the naming – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – more movies have inspired impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names indicate the leading women in the slasher film, another scary movie and the extraterrestrial saga respectively. She mentions an academic paper from a scholar, outlining the last women standing an original movie concept – female characters isolated to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, on the silent side and they endure due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt about such characters. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, we can all identify with the final girl.”

The artist identifies a connection between these characters to her artworks – objects which only staying put despite the pressures they’re under. So is her work really concerning social breakdown than just leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone that should seal and protect against harm are gradually failing within society.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration using foam materials, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions included tongue-like shapes crafted from the kind of nylon fabric found in within outdoor gear or in coats. Similarly, one finds the impression these strange items might animate – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily off surfaces or extend through entries collecting debris from touch (She prompts audiences to interact and dirty her art). As with earlier creations, these nylon creations are also housed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a specific look that draws viewers compelled by, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments amusedly. “It attempts to seem invisible, however, it is very present.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't pieces that offer ease or visual calm. Instead, she aims for uncomfortable, odd, perhaps entertained. And if there's something wet dripping on your head additionally, don’t say you haven’t been warned.