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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, you may want to avoid hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Certainly, Herfeldt is a whiz using sealant applicators, creating intriguing creations with a surprising medium. Yet as you examine these pieces, the stronger you realise a certain aspect seems somewhat strange.

Those hefty tubes made of silicone she crafts stretch beyond their supports on which they sit, sagging downwards towards the floor. The gnarled tubular forms expand till they rupture. Some creations leave their transparent enclosures entirely, turning into a collector for grime and particles. It's safe to say the feedback are unlikely to earn pretty.

There are moments I feel this sense that things seem animated within a space,” says the sculptor. Hence I turned to silicone sealant because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

In fact there’s something somewhat grotesque regarding Herfeldt’s work, including the phallic bulge that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from the support in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals of foam which split open like medical emergencies. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed prints depicting the sculptures captured in multiple views: resembling squirming organisms seen in scientific samples, or colonies on a petri-dish.

“It interests me is how certain elements within us occurring that also have a life of their own,” Herfeldt explains. Elements you can’t see or command.”

Regarding unmanageable factors, the poster for the show includes a photograph of the leaky ceiling in her own studio located in Berlin. The building had been erected decades ago as she explains, was instantly hated among the community because a lot of old buildings got demolished in order to make way for it. The place was dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich but grew up in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin during her teens – moved in.

This deteriorating space was frustrating to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang her pieces anxiously potential harm – however, it was intriguing. With no building plans accessible, nobody had a clue how to repair any of the issues that developed. Once an overhead section at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the only solution involved installing the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that several collection units were set up within the drop ceiling to channel the water to a different sink.

“I realised that the structure was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

The situation evoked memories of Dark Star, the initial work cinematic piece concerning a conscious ship that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice given the naming – three distinct names – more movies have inspired shaping the artist's presentation. The three names indicate main characters in the slasher film, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, outlining these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

They often display toughness, reserved in nature enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” the artist explains regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

The artist identifies a similarity from these protagonists to her artworks – things that are just about holding in place amidst stress they’re under. Does this mean the art more about social breakdown beyond merely water damage? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Completely,” she confirms.

Earlier in her career using foam materials, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Past displays included forms resembling tongues made from the kind of nylon fabric typical for in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Similarly, one finds the feeling these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, some droop heavily on vertical planes or extend through entries collecting debris from touch (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations also occupy – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“These works possess a particular style that draws viewers compelled by, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” she says amusedly. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer relaxation or visual calm. Conversely, she aims for unease, odd, maybe even amused. And if there's something wet dripping from above too, remember this was foreshadowed.