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If you're planning washroom remodeling, it's advisable to steer clear of hiring this German artist for such tasks.

Indeed, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, creating intriguing artworks with a surprising art material. However longer you look at her creations, the stronger it becomes apparent that an element is a little strange.

The thick tubes made of silicone Herfeldt forms stretch over display surfaces where they rest, drooping over the sides below. The knotty silicone strands bulge before bursting open. Some creations escape the display cases entirely, evolving into an attractor of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the ratings might not get pretty.

At times I get an impression that objects possess life in a room,” remarks the sculptor. Hence I turned to this foam material due to its such an organic texture and feeling.”

Certainly there’s something rather body horror about the artist's creations, from the suggestive swelling that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from the support within the showspace, and the winding tubes of foam that rupture like medical emergencies. Along a surface, are mounted images of the works seen from various perspectives: appearing as microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or colonies in a lab setting.

What captivates me that there are things in our bodies occurring that also have independent existence,” she says. “Things you can’t see or command.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the poster for the show displays 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 from residents as numerous old buildings were torn down for its development. It was already in a state of disrepair upon her – a native of that city yet raised in northern Germany then relocating to Berlin during her teens – took up residence.

This decrepit property proved challenging to Herfeldt – it was risky to display the sculptures anxiously risk of ruin – yet it also proved fascinating. Without any blueprints on hand, nobody had a clue how to repair the problems that arose. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the only solution was to replace the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe that several collection units were set up above the false roof to channel the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that the structure was like a body, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

This scenario reminded her of the sci-fi movie, John Carpenter’s debut 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship that takes on a life of its own. Additionally, observers may note given the naming – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – more movies have inspired impacting the artist's presentation. These titles indicate the female protagonists from a horror classic, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions an academic paper written by Carol J Clover, outlining these “final girls” an original movie concept – women left alone to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet and they endure because she’s quite clever,” says Herfeldt about such characters. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. Regardless the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

Herfeldt sees a similarity between these characters and her sculptures – things that are just about holding in place despite the pressures affecting them. Is the exhibition more about societal collapse rather than simply leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, such components that should seal and protect us from damage in fact are decaying within society.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Recent shows have involved organic-looking pieces made from the kind of nylon fabric found in within outdoor gear or inside a jacket. Similarly, one finds the feeling such unusual creations might animate – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily off surfaces blocking passages gathering grime from contact (The artist invites people to handle and soil the works). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces also occupy – leaving – budget-style transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel highly drawn to, while also being quite repulsive,” the artist comments amusedly. “The art aims for invisible, yet in reality highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Conversely, she wants you to feel uncomfortable, strange, or even humor. And if there's something wet dripping from above additionally, remember this was foreshadowed.