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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it might be wise to avoid hiring Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, Herfeldt is highly skilled in handling foam materials, crafting intriguing sculptures with a surprising substance. Yet as you examine her creations, the clearer it becomes apparent a certain aspect is a little off.

The thick tubes of sealant she crafts extend beyond the shelves on which they sit, drooping downwards towards the floor. Those twisted silicone strands bulge until they split. Some creations escape the display cases fully, evolving into an attractor for dust and hair. One could imagine the feedback might not get favorable.

At times I get an impression that items are alive inside an area,” says the German artist. “That’s why I turned to this foam material as it offers such an organic feel and appearance.”

Certainly one can detect almost visceral in these sculptures, starting with the suggestive swelling which extends, similar to a rupture, off its base at the exhibition's heart, to the intestinal coils from the material which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, are mounted photocopies showing the pieces viewed from different angles: appearing as squirming organisms observed under magnification, or colonies in a lab setting.

“It interests me is the idea in our bodies taking place which possess their own life,” she says. Phenomena you can’t see or command.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement featured in the exhibition features a photograph showing a dripping roof within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been erected decades ago and, she says, was quickly despised from residents because a lot of historic structures were torn down for its development. By the time dilapidated upon her – originally from Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital as a teenager – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues to Herfeldt – it was risky to display the sculptures without fearing potential harm – however, it was compelling. Without any blueprints available, it was unclear the way to fix the malfunctions which occurred. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the single remedy was to replace the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, she describes the water intrusion was severe that a series of collection units were set up above the false roof to channel the water to a different sink.

It dawned on me that the structure resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

This scenario evoked memories of a classic film, the director's first cinematic piece concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. And as you might notice through the heading – three distinct names – that’s not the only film to have influenced the artist's presentation. Those labels refer to main characters in Friday 13th, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay by the American professor, that describes these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to overcome.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, on the silent side and she can survive because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates regarding this trope. They avoid substances or have sex. It is irrelevant who is watching, we can all identify with this character.”

The artist identifies a connection linking these figures with her creations – things that are just about holding in place under strain they’re under. So is her work really concerning cultural decay than just water damage? As with many structures, such components intended to secure and shield against harm are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Completely,” she confirms.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Recent shows featured tongue-like shapes crafted from fabric similar to you might see within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Again there is the sense these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, some droop heavily off surfaces or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (She prompts audiences to interact and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces also occupy – leaving – budget-style acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a particular style which makes one compelled by, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” the artist comments with a smile. “It tries to be invisible, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making work to make you feel ease or visual calm. Instead, she wants you to feel unease, odd, or even humor. However, should you notice a moist sensation from above too, consider yourself you haven’t been warned.