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If you're planning bathroom renovations, it might be wise to avoid engaging Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Certainly, Herfeldt is a whiz in handling foam materials, crafting fascinating sculptures with a surprising medium. Yet as you look at her creations, the more it becomes apparent that something feels slightly strange.

The dense lengths made of silicone she produces stretch past the shelves where they rest, drooping downwards to the ground. The knotty foam pipes swell until they split. Certain pieces escape their transparent enclosures entirely, turning into a magnet for grime and particles. One could imagine the ratings might not get pretty.

“I sometimes have this sense that things are alive within a space,” says Herfeldt. Hence I came to use silicone sealant due to its this very bodily feel and appearance.”

Certainly there’s something somewhat grotesque about the artist's creations, starting with that protruding shape which extends, similar to a rupture, off its base within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals from the material that burst as if in crisis. Displayed nearby, are mounted images of the works seen from various perspectives: they look like wormy parasites observed under magnification, or growths on culture plates.

What captivates me is how certain elements inside human forms happening which possess independent existence,” Herfeldt explains. Phenomena you can’t see or manage.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays an image of the leaky ceiling at her creative space in the German capital. It was built in the early 1970s as she explains, was quickly despised from residents as numerous old buildings got demolished in order to make way for it. By the time run-down as the artist – who was born in Munich yet raised near Hamburg then relocating to Berlin during her teens – took up residence.

The rundown building caused issues for her work – she couldn’t hang her art works without concern potential harm – but it was also intriguing. Without any blueprints on hand, no one knew methods to address the malfunctions which occurred. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the sole fix was to replace the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that a series of drainage containers were set up within the drop ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet.

“I realised that the structure acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

These conditions reminded her of the sci-fi movie, the initial work cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note through the heading – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – that’s not the only film shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names refer to the leading women in the slasher film, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. The artist references a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, that describes the last women standing as a unique film trope – protagonists by themselves to overcome.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive due to intelligence,” the artist explains regarding this trope. They avoid substances or have sex. It is irrelevant who is watching, we can all identify with the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel between these characters to her artworks – elements that barely maintaining position despite the pressures they’re under. So is her work focused on societal collapse than just water damage? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm in fact are decaying around us.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Earlier in her career using foam materials, she experimented with other unusual materials. Previous exhibitions have involved organic-looking pieces made from fabric similar to typical for in insulated clothing or in coats. Once more, there's the impression these peculiar objects seem lifelike – a few are compressed like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily from walls blocking passages attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts audiences to interact leaving marks on pieces). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces are also housed in – leaving – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“They have a certain aesthetic that draws viewers very attracted to, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” the artist comments with a smile. “It tries to be not there, however, it is extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't work to make you feel ease or aesthetically soothed. Instead, she aims for discomfort, strange, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel a moist sensation from above as well, consider yourself you haven’t been warned.