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If you're planning bathroom renovations, it might be wise not to choose employing Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Certainly, she's a whiz in handling foam materials, creating compelling sculptures out of an unusual substance. Yet the more look at these pieces, the clearer one notices that something feels slightly unnerving.

The dense tubes from the foam Herfeldt forms reach past the shelves on which they sit, sagging off the edges towards the floor. The knotty tubular forms swell until they split. A few artworks leave the display cases completely, turning into a collector for grime and particles. Let's just say the feedback would not be positive.

At times I get this sense that things are alive in a room,” says Herfeldt. This is why I turned to silicone sealant due to its such an organic sensation and look.”

Certainly one can detect somewhat grotesque regarding Herfeldt’s work, starting with the phallic bulge jutting out, similar to a rupture, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes made of silicone that rupture like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, the artist presents prints showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: they look like microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me is how certain elements in our bodies happening that seem to hold a life of their own,” she says. Elements which remain unseen or command.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the poster promoting the event includes a picture of the leaky ceiling in her own studio in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been made in the seventies as she explains, was quickly despised among the community because a lot of older edifices were torn down for its development. By the time dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich but grew up north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital during her teens – began using the space.

This deteriorating space caused issues to Herfeldt – placing artworks was difficult her art works anxiously they might be damaged – yet it also proved compelling. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, nobody had a clue methods to address the problems that developed. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it collapsed entirely, the only solution was to replace the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad that several drainage containers got placed above the false roof in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

“I realised that the building resembled an organism, a completely flawed entity,” she says.

These conditions reminded her of a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – three distinct names – more movies have inspired to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. Those labels point to the female protagonists in the slasher film, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga respectively. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay from a scholar, outlining these surviving characters an original movie concept – female characters isolated to overcome.

They often display toughness, rather quiet and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a connection linking these figures to her artworks – objects which only staying put amidst stress affecting them. Is the exhibition more about societal collapse beyond merely leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone that should seal and protect against harm in fact are decaying around us.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Past displays included tongue-like shapes using fabric similar to found in within outdoor gear or inside a jacket. Similarly, one finds the impression these strange items might animate – some are concertinaed like caterpillars mid-crawl, others lollop down from walls blocking passages gathering grime from contact (The artist invites people to handle and soil the works). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – budget-style display enclosures. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic that draws viewers highly drawn to, while also they’re very disgusting,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality very present.”

Herfeldt is not making pieces that offer relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Rather, her intention is to evoke discomfort, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's water droplets on your head as well, remember this was foreshadowed.