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If you're planning washroom remodeling, it's advisable to steer clear of engaging the sculptor for such tasks.

Certainly, she's an expert using sealant applicators, creating fascinating artworks with a surprising art material. Yet longer you look at these pieces, the more you realise that something feels slightly strange.

The thick tubes from the foam she crafts reach beyond the shelves where they rest, hanging over the sides to the ground. The knotty silicone strands swell until they split. A few artworks leave their acrylic glass box homes entirely, turning into a collector for dust and hair. Let's just say the reviews are unlikely to earn positive.

At times I get an impression that objects seem animated in a room,” states the German artist. “That’s why I turned to silicone sealant because it has such an organic texture and feeling.”

Indeed there’s something almost visceral regarding the artist's creations, including the suggestive swelling that protrudes, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand within the showspace, and the winding tubes of foam that rupture resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, the artist presents photocopies showing the pieces captured in multiple views: appearing as squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations on culture plates.

“It interests me is the idea in our bodies occurring that seem to hold their own life,” Herfeldt explains. Phenomena you can’t see or manage.”

Regarding things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement featured in the exhibition features an image of water damage overhead at her creative space in the German capital. The building had been erected decades ago and according to her, was instantly hated from residents as numerous historic structures got demolished for its development. It was already run-down as the artist – originally from Munich but grew up north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital in her youth – took up residence.

This deteriorating space was frustrating to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang her art works anxiously potential harm – but it was also intriguing. Without any blueprints accessible, nobody had a clue how to repair the malfunctions that arose. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it collapsed entirely, the sole fix was to replace it with another – thus repeating the process.

At another site, the artist explains the water intrusion was severe that several shower basins were set up in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the building acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

The situation evoked memories of a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests from the show’s title – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – more movies have inspired impacting the artist's presentation. Those labels point to the female protagonists from a horror classic, another scary movie and Alien in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, which identifies the last women standing as a unique film trope – female characters isolated to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and she can survive because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates regarding this trope. No drug use occurs or have sex. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, we can all identify with this character.”

The artist identifies a connection between these characters and her sculptures – elements that barely holding in place despite the pressures they’re under. Is the exhibition focused on cultural decay rather than simply leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, these materials intended to secure and shield us from damage in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions included forms resembling tongues crafted from the kind of nylon fabric you might see in insulated clothing or apparel lining. Again there is the impression these peculiar objects could come alive – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely from walls blocking passages gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, 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 specific look which makes one compelled by, and at the same time appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks with a smile. “It tries to be absent, but it’s actually very present.”

The artist does not create art to provide ease or visual calm. Conversely, her intention is to evoke discomfort, odd, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel water droplets from above too, remember you haven’t been warned.