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When considering bathroom renovations, it might be wise to steer clear of employing Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Certainly, she's an expert in handling foam materials, producing fascinating sculptures with a surprising medium. However longer you examine these pieces, the clearer one notices that an element feels slightly unnerving.

Those hefty strands from the foam she produces stretch beyond their supports where they rest, hanging off the edges below. The knotty silicone strands bulge before bursting open. Certain pieces escape the display cases completely, turning into a magnet for dust and hair. It's safe to say the ratings would not be favorable.

“I sometimes have an impression that items seem animated inside an area,” states the sculptor. Hence I came to use silicone sealant because it has this very bodily feel and appearance.”

In fact there’s something almost visceral regarding Herfeldt’s work, including that protruding shape which extends, like a medical condition, off its base at the exhibition's heart, or the gut-like spirals made of silicone that burst resembling bodily failures. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed photocopies showing the pieces captured in multiple views: they look like wormy parasites observed under magnification, or formations in a lab setting.

“It interests me is the idea within us taking place which possess their own life,” the artist notes. Phenomena which remain unseen or command.”

Talking of elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement for the show features an image showing a dripping roof within her workspace in the German capital. The building had been made in the seventies as she explains, faced immediate dislike from residents since many older edifices were removed for its development. The place was run-down as the artist – originally from Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – began using the space.

This deteriorating space proved challenging to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang the sculptures anxiously potential harm – however, it was fascinating. With no building plans on hand, no one knew how to repair any of the issues which occurred. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio became so sodden it collapsed entirely, the single remedy involved installing the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

Elsewhere on the property, she describes the water intrusion was severe that several shower basins were installed in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

I understood that the building acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions evoked memories of Dark Star, the director's first 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests from the show’s title – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced shaping this exhibition. Those labels refer to the leading women from a horror classic, another scary movie and Alien respectively. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis from a scholar, that describes these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – women left alone to overcome.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or engage intimately. Regardless the viewer’s gender, all empathize with this character.”

The artist identifies a similarity between these characters and her sculptures – things that are just about staying put despite the pressures they’re under. Is the exhibition really concerning cultural decay beyond merely water damage? As with many structures, such components meant to insulate and guard from deterioration are actually slowly eroding within society.

“Oh, totally,” responds the artist.

Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, she experimented with different unconventional substances. Recent shows featured forms resembling tongues using a synthetic material found in in insulated clothing or in coats. Similarly, one finds the impression these strange items could come alive – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, others lollop down off surfaces or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (She prompts people to handle and dirty her art). As with earlier creations, these nylon creations are similarly displayed in – leaving – cheap looking transparent cases. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“They have a particular style that somehow you feel compelled by, while also appearing gross,” the artist comments with a smile. “The art aims for not there, but it’s actually highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer relaxation or visual calm. Rather, her intention is to evoke discomfort, strange, or even humor. But if you start to feel a moist sensation overhead too, consider yourself the alert was given.