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If you're planning restroom upgrades, you may want not to choose employing Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Certainly, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, producing fascinating artworks out of an unusual art material. However as you observe the artworks, the clearer one notices that an element is a little strange.

Those hefty tubes from the foam she crafts extend beyond display surfaces on which they sit, sagging off the edges below. The gnarled tubular forms swell till they rupture. A few artworks escape their acrylic glass box homes entirely, becoming an attractor for grime and particles. Let's just say the ratings would not be favorable.

“I sometimes have this sense that objects are alive within a space,” says Herfeldt. Hence I started using this foam material due to its a distinctly physical feel and appearance.”

Certainly there is an element rather body horror about Herfeldt’s work, from the suggestive swelling that protrudes, similar to a rupture, off its base in the centre of the gallery, and the winding tubes made of silicone that burst like medical emergencies. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed prints showing the pieces viewed from different angles: resembling wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or formations on culture plates.

I am fascinated by that there are things within us occurring that also have independent existence,” the artist notes. “Things which remain unseen or manage.”

Talking of unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays a photograph of water damage overhead in her own studio located in Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s and, she says, was instantly hated by local people because a lot of older edifices were removed in order to make way for it. It was already dilapidated upon her – who was born in Munich but grew up in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – took up residence.

This deteriorating space proved challenging to Herfeldt – placing artworks was difficult her pieces anxiously they might be damaged – yet it also proved compelling. With no building plans on hand, no one knew how to repair any of the issues that arose. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the sole fix involved installing it with another – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, the artist explains dripping was extreme that several drainage containers were set up above the false roof in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the structure resembled an organism, a completely flawed entity,” she says.

These conditions brought to mind Dark Star, the director's first 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests from the show’s title – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. Those labels point to the female protagonists from a horror classic, Halloween and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. The artist references an academic paper from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” an original movie concept – female characters isolated to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet and they endure because she’s quite clever,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or engage intimately. It is irrelevant who is watching, we can all identify with the final girl.”

She draws a connection from these protagonists to her artworks – elements that barely staying put under strain they face. Does this mean the art more about cultural decay beyond merely water damage? As with many structures, such components meant to insulate and guard against harm in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Previous exhibitions included forms resembling tongues using a synthetic material found in within outdoor gear or in coats. Similarly, one finds the impression these strange items seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily off surfaces or extend through entries attracting dirt from footprints (The artist invites viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are also housed in – leaving – cheap looking acrylic glass boxes. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“They have a particular style that draws viewers very attracted to, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” Herfeldt remarks grinning. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making work to make you feel comfortable or visual calm. Instead, she wants you to feel discomfort, awkward, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel a moist sensation on your head too, consider yourself you haven’t been warned.