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If you're planning washroom remodeling, you may want to steer clear of engaging this German artist for such tasks.

Truly, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, producing compelling artworks out of an unusual medium. Yet the more look at the artworks, the stronger it becomes apparent that something is a little strange.

Those hefty tubes made of silicone she crafts stretch beyond the shelves supporting them, sagging off the edges to the ground. Those twisted foam pipes swell before bursting open. Some creations escape the display cases fully, turning into an attractor for grime and particles. One could imagine the ratings might not get favorable.

“I sometimes have this sense that things seem animated in a room,” says the sculptor. This is why I came to use this foam material due to its such an organic sensation and look.”

Certainly there’s something rather body horror about Herfeldt’s work, starting with the suggestive swelling jutting out, hernia-like, off its base within the showspace, to the intestinal coils made of silicone which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, are mounted images showing the pieces captured in multiple views: they look like microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or colonies on a petri-dish.

“It interests me is the idea inside human forms happening which possess independent existence,” Herfeldt explains. Elements that are invisible or control.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the promotional image featured in the exhibition features a photograph of the leaky ceiling in her own studio in the German capital. It was built in the early 1970s as she explains, was quickly despised by local people because a lot of older edifices were torn down in order to make way for it. It was already dilapidated as the artist – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – took up residence.

This decrepit property proved challenging for her work – it was risky to display the sculptures without concern potential harm – yet it also proved intriguing. Without any blueprints accessible, it was unclear how to repair any of the issues that developed. When the ceiling panel within her workspace became so sodden it fell apart fully, the single remedy involved installing the panel with a new one – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, the artist explains the water intrusion was severe that a series of shower basins were installed within the drop ceiling to channel the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that the structure was like a body, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

These conditions reminded her of a classic film, the director's first movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice through the heading – three distinct names – that’s not the only film to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. These titles indicate the leading women in Friday 13th, another scary movie and Alien respectively. The artist references a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, outlining the last women standing a distinctive cinematic theme – women left alone to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive due to intelligence,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

The artist identifies a similarity between these characters and her sculptures – elements that barely maintaining position despite the pressures they face. Does this mean the art more about social breakdown rather than simply water damage? Similar to various systems, these materials that should seal and protect from deterioration are gradually failing in our environment.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Past displays have involved organic-looking pieces made from a synthetic material typical for within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Again there is the sense such unusual creations might animate – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, others lollop down on vertical planes or extend through entries attracting dirt from footprints (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact leaving marks on pieces). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces also occupy – leaving – cheap looking acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“They have a particular style that somehow you feel very attracted to, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” she says amusedly. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality very present.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't work to make you feel ease or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she aims for uncomfortable, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's a moist sensation overhead too, remember this was foreshadowed.