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If you're planning washroom remodeling, you may want not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Indeed, she's a whiz using sealant applicators, producing compelling artworks from this unlikely medium. However as you examine her creations, the more you realise that an element feels slightly off.

The dense strands made of silicone she crafts reach past the shelves where they rest, sagging over the sides below. The gnarled tubular forms bulge until they split. A few artworks leave their acrylic glass box homes entirely, evolving into an attractor for grime and particles. One could imagine the feedback would not be pretty.

“I sometimes have the feeling that items possess life within a space,” states the German artist. Hence I came to use silicone sealant due to its such an organic sensation and look.”

In fact there’s something almost visceral regarding Herfeldt’s work, including the phallic bulge that protrudes, like a medical condition, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, and the winding tubes of foam that burst resembling bodily failures. Displayed nearby, Herfeldt has framed prints of the works seen from various perspectives: appearing as squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or formations on culture plates.

I am fascinated by that there are things in our bodies occurring that seem to hold a life of their own,” she says. Elements that are invisible or manage.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event includes a photograph showing a dripping roof at her creative space located in Berlin. The building had been made in the seventies and according to her, was instantly hated among the community as numerous old buildings were removed for its development. The place was in a state of disrepair as the artist – who was born in Munich yet raised north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital in her youth – began using the space.

The rundown building caused issues for her work – it was risky to display her art works without fearing they might be damaged – but it was also compelling. Without any blueprints accessible, no one knew the way to fix the malfunctions that arose. When the ceiling panel within her workspace got thoroughly soaked it collapsed entirely, the only solution was to replace it with another – thus repeating the process.

At another site, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad that several drainage containers were set up above the false roof to channel leaks to another outlet.

I understood that this place was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” the artist comments.

The situation reminded her of a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut movie from the seventies featuring a smart spaceship that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note given the naming – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to the female protagonists from a horror classic, the iconic thriller plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions an academic paper from a scholar, outlining the last women standing as a unique film trope – women left alone to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet and she can survive due to intelligence,” she elaborates regarding this trope. No drug use occurs or have sex. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, all empathize with the final girl.”

She draws a similarity from these protagonists to her artworks – elements that barely maintaining position amidst stress they face. Does this mean the art really concerning social breakdown rather than simply dripping roofs? As with many structures, such components intended to secure and shield against harm in fact are decaying around us.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, she experimented with other unusual materials. Recent shows featured tongue-like shapes made from the kind of nylon fabric you might see in insulated clothing or apparel lining. Again there is the sense these peculiar objects could come alive – a few are compressed as insects in motion, some droop heavily off surfaces blocking passages attracting dirt from footprints (Herfeldt encourages people to handle and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations are similarly displayed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a specific look that draws viewers highly drawn to, and at the same time appearing gross,” the artist comments with a smile. “The art aims for absent, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making pieces that offer relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she aims for unease, strange, perhaps entertained. And if there's a moist sensation from above too, don’t say the alert was given.