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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, it might be wise to avoid hiring Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Truly, Herfeldt is an expert using sealant applicators, creating compelling artworks with a surprising medium. But as you observe the artworks, the more it becomes apparent that an element seems somewhat off.

The dense strands of sealant she produces stretch over their supports where they rest, hanging downwards towards the floor. The knotty foam pipes bulge till they rupture. Certain pieces leave their transparent enclosures entirely, turning into a collector of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the feedback might not get favorable.

There are moments I feel the feeling that things possess life inside an area,” remarks the German artist. This is why I came to use this substance as it offers a distinctly physical sensation and look.”

Certainly there’s something somewhat grotesque about Herfeldt’s work, from that protruding shape that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from the support within the showspace, and the winding tubes from the material that burst like medical emergencies. On one wall, are mounted images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: they look like wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or colonies on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by that there are things within us occurring that seem to hold independent existence,” she says. Phenomena which remain unseen or command.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays a picture of water damage overhead in her own studio located in Berlin. It was built in the early 1970s as she explains, faced immediate dislike by local people since many historic structures were removed to allow its construction. The place was run-down as the artist – a native of that city but grew up in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital during her teens – took up residence.

The rundown building proved challenging to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang her pieces without fearing potential harm – but it was also fascinating. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, no one knew the way to fix the malfunctions that developed. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the only solution involved installing the panel with a new one – thus repeating the process.

Elsewhere on the property, the artist explains the leaking was so bad so multiple collection units were installed within the drop ceiling to channel the water to a different sink.

“I realised that this place was like a body, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

This scenario brought to mind Dark Star, the initial work 1974 film concerning a conscious ship which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice given the naming – a trio of references – more movies have inspired shaping Herfeldt’s show. Those labels indicate main characters in the slasher film, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a critical analysis from a scholar, which identifies these surviving characters an original movie concept – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, on the silent side enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates about such characters. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

Herfeldt sees a similarity between these characters and her sculptures – things that are just about staying put despite the pressures they’re under. So is her work more about social breakdown than just leaky ceilings? As with many structures, these materials intended to secure and shield us from damage are gradually failing within society.

“Completely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Previous exhibitions included forms resembling tongues crafted from the kind of nylon fabric you might see within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Once more, there's the sense these strange items could come alive – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily on vertical planes blocking passages collecting debris from touch (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and soil the works). As with earlier creations, these nylon creations also occupy – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, and that's the essence.

“They have a specific look that somehow you feel highly drawn to, while also being quite repulsive,” she says grinning. “It attempts to seem not there, yet in reality very present.”

The artist does not create art to provide comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Instead, her intention is to evoke discomfort, strange, perhaps entertained. And if there's a moist sensation on your head additionally, consider yourself this was foreshadowed.