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When considering bathroom renovations, you may want to avoid engaging Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, Herfeldt is a whiz in handling foam materials, crafting fascinating artworks out of an unusual medium. But the more examine these pieces, the stronger it becomes apparent that something seems somewhat unnerving.

The thick lengths from the foam she produces stretch past the shelves on which they sit, drooping over the sides towards the floor. The knotty foam pipes expand before bursting open. Certain pieces break free from the display cases completely, evolving into a collector for dust and hair. Let's just say the reviews are unlikely to earn positive.

“I sometimes have the feeling that objects possess life within a space,” says the German artist. “That’s why I turned to this foam material because it has a distinctly physical texture and feeling.”

In fact there’s something somewhat grotesque in these sculptures, starting with the phallic bulge that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from the support in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils of foam which split open resembling bodily failures. Displayed nearby, are mounted photocopies depicting the sculptures captured in multiple views: appearing as wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or formations on culture plates.

What captivates me is the idea within us taking place that seem to hold a life of their own,” she says. Phenomena which remain unseen or command.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the promotional image promoting the event includes a picture of the leaky ceiling at her creative space located in Berlin. Constructed erected decades ago and, she says, was instantly hated from residents since many older edifices were removed for its development. By the time dilapidated as the artist – a native of that city yet raised in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital as a teenager – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues for her work – she couldn’t hang the sculptures anxiously they might be damaged – but it was also compelling. Without any blueprints accessible, it was unclear how to repair any of the issues that developed. When the ceiling panel within her workspace was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the sole fix involved installing the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

In a different area, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad that a series of collection units were set up above the false roof in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

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

These conditions reminded her of the sci-fi movie, John Carpenter’s debut movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note from the show’s title – three distinct names – other cinematic works influenced shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names indicate the female protagonists from a horror classic, Halloween and Alien in that order. She mentions a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, which identifies these “final girls” an original movie concept – female characters isolated to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival thanks to resourcefulness,” says Herfeldt about such characters. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. Regardless the audience's identity, all empathize with this character.”

She draws a similarity linking these figures and her sculptures – elements that barely maintaining position under strain they’re under. So is her work more about cultural decay rather than simply leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, such components meant to insulate and guard us from damage are gradually failing in our environment.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career using foam materials, she experimented with other unusual materials. Recent shows included tongue-like shapes using a synthetic material typical for within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Similarly, one finds the impression these peculiar objects might animate – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, others lollop down on vertical planes or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and dirty her art). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations also occupy – and breaking out of – budget-style acrylic glass boxes. These are unattractive objects, and that's the essence.

“The sculptures exhibit a particular style that somehow you feel compelled by, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” she says grinning. “It tries to be not there, however, it is extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't art to provide ease or beauty. Conversely, she wants you to feel unease, odd, maybe even amused. However, should you notice something wet dripping from above additionally, don’t say this was foreshadowed.