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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, it's advisable not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Indeed, Herfeldt is an expert with a silicone gun, creating intriguing artworks with a surprising substance. But longer you look at these pieces, the stronger one notices that something seems somewhat strange.

The dense lengths made of silicone Herfeldt forms stretch over the shelves supporting them, drooping over the sides below. The gnarled tubular forms expand before bursting open. A few artworks leave the display cases fully, becoming a collector for dust and hair. Let's just say the reviews are unlikely to earn positive.

At times I get an impression that things seem animated within a space,” says the sculptor. Hence I turned to this foam material because it has a distinctly physical sensation and look.”

Indeed there’s something almost visceral about Herfeldt’s work, from that protruding shape jutting out, similar to a rupture, from the support at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes of foam that rupture as if in crisis. On one wall, the artist presents photocopies of the works seen from various perspectives: they look like microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or colonies on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by that there are things inside human forms occurring that seem to hold a life of their own,” the artist notes. “Things you can’t see or control.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the poster featured in the exhibition features a picture showing a dripping roof in her own studio in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed built in the early 1970s and according to her, was instantly hated by local people since many older edifices were torn down to allow its construction. The place was run-down upon her – originally from Munich but grew up near Hamburg then relocating to Berlin during her teens – moved in.

This deteriorating space caused issues for the artist – she couldn’t hang the sculptures without concern they might be damaged – however, it was compelling. With no building plans accessible, no one knew the way to fix the problems that developed. When the ceiling panel within her workspace became so sodden it gave way completely, the only solution involved installing the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, the artist explains the leaking was so bad so multiple collection units were installed within the drop ceiling to channel the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that the building acted as a physical form, a completely flawed entity,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions brought to mind a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. Additionally, observers may note from the show’s title – three distinct names – that’s not the only film impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to main characters in the slasher film, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit respectively. Herfeldt cites an academic paper written by Carol J Clover, that describes these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive due to intelligence,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. It is irrelevant the viewer’s gender, we can all identify with this character.”

Herfeldt sees a connection linking these figures to her artworks – elements that barely holding in place amidst stress they’re under. Is the exhibition really concerning cultural decay beyond merely water damage? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone that should seal and protect against harm are actually slowly eroding in our environment.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Previous exhibitions have involved forms resembling tongues crafted from fabric similar to found in in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Once more, there's the feeling these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded resembling moving larvae, others lollop down from walls or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (Herfeldt encourages people to handle leaving marks on pieces). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, which is intentional.

“The sculptures exhibit a particular style that draws viewers compelled by, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” the artist comments with a smile. “It tries to be absent, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Instead, she wants you to feel uncomfortable, strange, perhaps entertained. However, should you notice a moist sensation on your head too, consider yourself this was foreshadowed.