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If you're planning restroom upgrades, it might be wise to steer clear of engaging Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Certainly, Herfeldt is an expert with a silicone gun, crafting intriguing artworks out of an unusual art material. But longer you look at these pieces, the clearer it becomes apparent a certain aspect seems somewhat strange.

Those hefty tubes of sealant Herfeldt forms extend beyond their supports on which they sit, drooping over the sides towards the floor. The knotty foam pipes swell until they split. A few artworks break free from their acrylic glass box homes completely, turning into an attractor of debris and fibers. Let's just say the feedback are unlikely to earn positive.

There are moments I feel the feeling that objects seem animated inside an area,” says Herfeldt. Hence I turned to this substance due to its such an organic feel and appearance.”

Certainly one can detect almost visceral regarding the artist's creations, including that protruding shape jutting out, similar to a rupture, from the support in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals from the material which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, are mounted photocopies depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: they look like squirming organisms observed under magnification, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me that there are things in our bodies taking place that also have their own life,” she says. “Things that are invisible or manage.”

Regarding things she can’t control, the promotional image featured in the exhibition includes a photograph showing a dripping roof at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s and, she says, was instantly hated among the community because a lot of old buildings were torn down in order to make way for it. The place was run-down as the artist – who was born in Munich yet raised north of Hamburg before arriving in Berlin in her youth – took up residence.

This deteriorating space was frustrating for the artist – she couldn’t hang her art works anxiously risk of ruin – however, it was intriguing. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, nobody had a clue how to repair any of the issues that developed. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the only solution involved installing the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, the artist explains the leaking was so bad that several shower basins were set up in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

I understood that the structure was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” Herfeldt states.

The situation evoked memories of the sci-fi movie, the director's first cinematic piece featuring a smart spaceship which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice through the heading – three distinct names – that’s not the only film impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names refer to the female protagonists from a horror classic, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit as listed. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis by the American professor, outlining these surviving characters as a unique film trope – female characters isolated to save the day.

They often display toughness, on the silent side and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. Regardless who is watching, all empathize with this character.”

She draws a connection linking these figures and her sculptures – objects which only maintaining position amidst stress affecting them. Is the exhibition really concerning societal collapse beyond merely dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, such components meant to insulate and guard us from damage are gradually failing around us.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Past displays have involved organic-looking pieces crafted from a synthetic material typical for on a sleeping bag or apparel lining. Again there is the impression such unusual creations seem lifelike – a few are compressed like caterpillars mid-crawl, others lollop down from walls or extend through entries attracting dirt from footprints (The artist invites audiences to interact and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, the textile works are also housed in – and escaping from – budget-style display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one compelled by, while also they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments grinning. “It tries to be absent, however, it is highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create art to provide relaxation or beauty. Rather, she wants you to feel discomfort, odd, or even humor. However, should you notice something wet dripping overhead as well, don’t say this was foreshadowed.