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If you're planning washroom remodeling, it might be wise to avoid hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Indeed, Herfeldt is an expert with a silicone gun, creating fascinating sculptures out of an unusual substance. Yet as you examine the artworks, the clearer one notices a certain aspect feels slightly off.

The dense lengths of sealant Herfeldt forms stretch over the shelves supporting them, drooping over the sides below. The knotty foam pipes swell until they split. A few artworks break free from the display cases completely, becoming an attractor for dust and hair. Let's just say the ratings are unlikely to earn favorable.

There are moments I feel the feeling that items seem animated inside an area,” states the sculptor. This is why I came to use silicone sealant because it has such an organic feel and appearance.”

Indeed there’s something rather body horror in these sculptures, starting with the suggestive swelling jutting out, like a medical condition, from the support in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils of foam which split open resembling bodily failures. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed images depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: resembling wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me is how certain elements within us happening which possess their own life,” the artist notes. Phenomena that are invisible or command.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event includes a picture of water damage overhead within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed built in the early 1970s and according to her, faced immediate dislike from residents as numerous older edifices were torn down for its development. The place was dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – began using the space.

This decrepit property proved challenging for the artist – placing artworks was difficult her pieces without concern they might be damaged – however, it was compelling. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, it was unclear the way to fix any of the issues which occurred. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it collapsed entirely, the only solution was to replace the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

At another site, the artist explains the leaking was so bad so multiple collection units were set up above the false roof to channel leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the structure was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

The situation brought to mind a classic film, the initial work movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. Additionally, observers may note through the heading – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – that’s not the only film shaping this exhibition. These titles point to main characters in the slasher film, Halloween and Alien respectively. The artist references an academic paper written by Carol J Clover, which identifies these surviving characters as a unique film trope – female characters isolated to triumph.

They often display toughness, on the silent side and she can survive because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. Regardless who is watching, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

She draws a parallel linking these figures with her creations – things that are just about holding in place under strain they face. Is the exhibition focused on societal collapse than just leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm are gradually failing in our environment.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Past displays featured tongue-like shapes using the kind of nylon fabric typical for in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Once more, there's the feeling such unusual creations seem lifelike – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, pieces hang loosely on vertical planes blocking passages attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts audiences to interact and dirty her art). Like the silicone sculptures, the textile works are also housed in – leaving – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.

“They have a specific look that somehow you feel highly drawn to, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” she says grinning. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create art to provide comfortable or beauty. Conversely, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, odd, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel a moist sensation from above as well, remember the alert was given.