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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it's advisable to avoid hiring the sculptor for the job.

Indeed, Herfeldt is a whiz with a silicone gun, creating fascinating artworks with a surprising art material. Yet the more examine the artworks, the stronger you realise that something seems somewhat off.

Those hefty lengths made of silicone she produces reach past display surfaces on which they sit, sagging over the sides towards the floor. The knotty silicone strands bulge until they split. Some creations leave their acrylic glass box homes fully, becoming a magnet of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the reviews might not get positive.

At times I get the feeling that objects 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.”

In fact there’s something rather body horror in the artist's creations, including the suggestive swelling jutting out, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils of foam that rupture as if in crisis. Along a surface, the artist presents photocopies depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: appearing as squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or formations on a petri-dish.

What captivates me that there are things within us happening that seem to hold independent existence,” Herfeldt explains. Phenomena you can’t see or control.”

Talking of elements beyond her influence, the promotional image for the show includes an image of the leaky ceiling within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s as she explains, was quickly despised by local people since many historic structures were removed for its development. The place was dilapidated as the artist – originally from Munich yet raised north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin as a teenager – took up residence.

The rundown building proved challenging to Herfeldt – it was risky to display her pieces without concern potential harm – yet it also proved compelling. Without any blueprints available, nobody had a clue methods to address the malfunctions which occurred. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it gave way completely, the only solution meant swapping the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

Elsewhere on the property, the artist explains dripping was extreme that several drainage containers were installed in the suspended ceiling to channel leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the structure acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

The situation brought to mind Dark Star, the director's first 1974 film concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. And as you might notice through the heading – a trio of references – that’s not the only film shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to main characters in Friday 13th, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. Regardless who is watching, everyone can relate to this character.”

She draws a similarity linking these figures with her creations – elements that barely holding in place under strain affecting them. Does this mean the art more about societal collapse rather than simply water damage? As with many structures, these materials intended to secure and shield us from damage are gradually failing around us.

“Oh, totally,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career using foam materials, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Past displays have involved organic-looking pieces made from a synthetic material you might see on a sleeping bag or in coats. Similarly, one finds the feeling these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, others lollop down off surfaces or extend through entries attracting dirt from footprints (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and dirty her art). As with earlier creations, the textile works also occupy – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming transparent cases. These are unattractive objects, which is intentional.

“These works possess a specific look that draws viewers compelled by, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” she says with a smile. “It attempts to seem absent, however, it is extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't pieces that offer ease or visual calm. Conversely, she aims for discomfort, strange, maybe even amused. And if there's something wet dripping from above too, remember this was foreshadowed.