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If you're planning washroom remodeling, it's advisable not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Truly, Herfeldt is highly skilled in handling foam materials, producing fascinating artworks from this unlikely substance. Yet longer you look at these pieces, the clearer one notices that an element seems somewhat unnerving.

The dense strands from the foam she produces extend past display surfaces on which they sit, drooping off the edges to the ground. Those twisted silicone strands swell before bursting open. Certain pieces leave their transparent enclosures entirely, evolving into an attractor for dust and hair. It's safe to say the ratings are unlikely to earn pretty.

At times I get an impression that things possess life in a room,” remarks Herfeldt. This is why I started using silicone sealant due to its a distinctly physical sensation and look.”

Indeed there’s something almost visceral in these sculptures, from the phallic bulge that protrudes, like a medical condition, from the support in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils of foam which split open as if in crisis. On one wall, the artist presents images showing the pieces viewed from different angles: they look like squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by is the idea inside human forms occurring which possess independent existence,” she says. Phenomena you can’t see or manage.”

Talking of unmanageable factors, the poster for the show features a photograph showing a dripping roof at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed erected decades ago and according to her, was instantly hated from residents since many old buildings were removed in order to make way for it. The place was run-down when Herfeldt – originally from Munich but grew up near Hamburg then relocating to Berlin in her youth – moved in.

This deteriorating space caused issues for the artist – it was risky to display her pieces without fearing they might be damaged – but it was also intriguing. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, nobody had a clue the way to fix the malfunctions which occurred. After a part of the roof within her workspace got thoroughly soaked it fell apart fully, the sole fix involved installing it with another – thus repeating the process.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that several shower basins were installed above the false roof to divert leaks to another outlet.

“I realised that this place was like a body, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

These conditions brought to mind the sci-fi movie, the initial work movie from the seventies concerning a conscious ship which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice from the show’s title – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – that’s not the only film impacting Herfeldt’s show. These titles point to the leading women in the slasher film, another scary movie and the extraterrestrial saga respectively. She mentions a 1987 essay from a scholar, which identifies the last women standing as a unique film trope – women left alone to overcome.

They often display toughness, on the silent side enabling their survival thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains about such characters. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, we can all identify with the survivor.”

The artist identifies a similarity between these characters with her creations – objects which only maintaining position amidst stress affecting them. Does this mean the art really concerning cultural decay beyond merely water damage? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone that should seal and protect against harm are actually slowly eroding in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Past displays featured forms resembling tongues crafted from the kind of nylon fabric found in within outdoor gear or inside a jacket. Again there is the feeling these peculiar objects could come alive – a few are compressed like caterpillars mid-crawl, pieces hang loosely off surfaces or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (She prompts people to handle leaving marks on pieces). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces also occupy – and breaking out of – budget-style acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel very attracted to, while also appearing gross,” the artist comments amusedly. “It attempts to seem invisible, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't pieces that offer relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she wants you to feel uncomfortable, strange, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel something wet dripping overhead too, don’t say you haven’t been warned.