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

Truly, Herfeldt is a whiz using sealant applicators, creating fascinating creations out of an unusual medium. Yet the more look at her creations, the stronger one notices that something feels slightly unnerving.

The dense tubes from the foam Herfeldt forms extend over display surfaces supporting them, drooping downwards below. The knotty tubular forms expand before bursting open. Some creations break free from their transparent enclosures completely, turning into a collector for grime and particles. One could imagine the feedback are unlikely to earn positive.

“I sometimes have the feeling that objects seem animated in a room,” says the sculptor. “That’s why I came to use silicone sealant due to its this very bodily texture and feeling.”

Indeed there’s something somewhat grotesque regarding Herfeldt’s work, from the phallic bulge which extends, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, to the intestinal coils made of silicone which split open like medical emergencies. Along a surface, are mounted images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: appearing as microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or growths on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by is the idea in our bodies happening that seem to hold independent existence,” the artist notes. Phenomena that are invisible or control.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays an image showing a dripping roof at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. It was erected decades ago and, she says, faced immediate dislike among the community as numerous older edifices were removed to allow its construction. The place was run-down upon her – who was born in Munich yet raised near Hamburg prior to moving to the capital during her teens – moved in.

This deteriorating space caused issues for her work – it was risky to display her art works without concern they might be damaged – however, it was compelling. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, it was unclear the way to fix the malfunctions that developed. After a part of the roof at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the single remedy was to replace it with another – perpetuating the issue.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that several collection units were set up within the drop ceiling to divert the water to a different sink.

I understood that the building resembled an organism, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

These conditions evoked memories of a classic film, the initial work cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. As the exhibition's title suggests through the heading – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names refer to the leading women from a horror classic, another scary movie and the extraterrestrial saga 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 save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature enabling their survival due to intelligence,” the artist explains regarding this trope. No drug use occurs or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, we can all identify with the survivor.”

The artist identifies a connection between these characters to her artworks – objects which only maintaining position under strain they face. Is the exhibition more about societal collapse beyond merely dripping roofs? As with many structures, such components that should seal and protect from deterioration are gradually failing in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Earlier in her career in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Past displays featured forms resembling tongues crafted from the kind of nylon fabric found in in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Again there is the feeling such unusual creations seem lifelike – some are concertinaed as insects in motion, some droop heavily on vertical planes or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces also occupy – and escaping from – budget-style acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a particular style which makes one compelled by, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments amusedly. “It tries to be absent, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she aims for unease, strange, perhaps entertained. And if there's water droplets overhead too, don’t say the alert was given.