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If you're planning restroom upgrades, you may want not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, she's highly skilled using sealant applicators, crafting fascinating artworks out of an unusual medium. But as you observe these pieces, the more you realise that something is a little off.

The dense lengths made of silicone she produces extend over display surfaces supporting them, hanging off the edges towards the floor. The knotty silicone strands swell until they split. Some creations escape the display cases completely, becoming a magnet for dust and hair. It's safe to say the feedback are unlikely to earn favorable.

“I sometimes have this sense that objects are alive inside an area,” says Herfeldt. Hence I came to use this substance because it has this very bodily feel and appearance.”

In fact one can detect somewhat grotesque in the artist's creations, including that protruding shape jutting out, like a medical condition, off its base in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals from the material which split open as if in crisis. Along a surface, the artist presents prints depicting the sculptures viewed from different angles: appearing as squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by is how certain elements inside human forms happening that seem to hold independent existence,” the artist notes. Phenomena which remain unseen or manage.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the poster featured in the exhibition features a photograph of the leaky ceiling in her own studio in the German capital. Constructed built in the early 1970s and, she says, was quickly despised by local people as numerous old buildings were torn down to allow its construction. The place was in a state of disrepair when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich yet raised north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin during her teens – began using the space.

This deteriorating space proved challenging for her work – placing artworks was difficult the sculptures without concern potential harm – but it was also fascinating. With no building plans accessible, it was unclear the way to fix the malfunctions that arose. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area was saturated enough it gave way completely, the only solution involved installing it with another – perpetuating the issue.

Elsewhere on the property, the artist explains the leaking was so bad so multiple shower basins were installed within the drop ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the structure resembled an organism, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

The situation reminded her of a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice given the naming – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names indicate the female protagonists from a horror classic, the iconic thriller and Alien as listed. Herfeldt cites an academic paper written by Carol J Clover, outlining these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to overcome.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and they endure because she’s quite clever,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. It is irrelevant who is watching, all empathize with the final girl.”

She draws a connection between these characters and her sculptures – elements that barely staying put under strain affecting them. So is her work focused on social breakdown beyond merely water damage? Because like so many institutions, such components intended to secure and shield from deterioration in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Earlier in her career in the silicone gun, she experimented with different unconventional substances. Recent shows featured organic-looking pieces crafted from fabric similar to you might see in insulated clothing or in coats. Once more, there's the feeling these peculiar objects might animate – certain pieces are folded resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily on vertical planes or extend through entries attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts people to handle and dirty her art). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – cheap looking acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“The sculptures exhibit a specific look that somehow you feel highly drawn to, while also they’re very disgusting,” she says amusedly. “The art aims for not there, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't art to provide comfortable or visual calm. Conversely, she aims for discomfort, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's water droplets overhead as well, remember you haven’t been warned.