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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, you may want to avoid hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Certainly, she's a whiz in handling foam materials, creating fascinating artworks out of an unusual art material. However the more look at her creations, the clearer one notices a certain aspect feels slightly strange.

Those hefty strands from the foam she produces reach over the shelves where they rest, hanging downwards to the ground. The gnarled tubular forms swell until they split. Some creations escape their transparent enclosures entirely, turning into an attractor for dust and hair. One could imagine the ratings would not be pretty.

There are moments I feel an impression that items possess life in a room,” states the sculptor. Hence I came to use silicone sealant because it has a distinctly physical feel and appearance.”

Indeed there’s something somewhat grotesque regarding the artist's creations, from the suggestive swelling which extends, like a medical condition, off its base in the centre of the gallery, and the winding tubes made of silicone which split open resembling bodily failures. On one wall, the artist presents images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: resembling squirming organisms seen in scientific samples, or colonies in a lab setting.

“It interests me is the idea within us happening which possess a life of their own,” the artist notes. “Things that are invisible or control.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays a picture of the leaky ceiling within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. The building had been erected decades ago as she explains, faced immediate dislike among the community since many historic structures were removed in order to make way for it. The place was in a state of disrepair as the artist – originally from Munich yet raised near Hamburg prior to moving to the capital as a teenager – took up residence.

The rundown building caused issues to Herfeldt – it was risky to display her pieces anxiously they might be damaged – but it was also fascinating. Lacking architectural drawings available, it was unclear how to repair any of the issues that developed. After a part of the roof within her workspace was saturated enough it collapsed entirely, the sole fix involved installing it with another – perpetuating the issue.

At another site, the artist explains the water intrusion was severe that several collection units got placed above the false roof to channel leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the structure acted as a physical form, a totally dysfunctional body,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions brought to mind a classic film, the director's first 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice from the show’s title – three distinct names – other cinematic works influenced impacting the artist's presentation. Those labels refer to main characters from a horror classic, Halloween and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay by the American professor, which identifies these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – female characters isolated to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, all empathize with this character.”

She draws a similarity linking these figures and her sculptures – objects which only staying put amidst stress they face. So is her work more about cultural decay beyond merely dripping roofs? As with many structures, such components meant to insulate and guard us from damage are actually slowly eroding within society.

“Completely,” responds the artist.

Before finding inspiration using foam materials, the artist worked with other unusual materials. Past displays have involved forms resembling tongues crafted from fabric similar to found in within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Similarly, one finds the feeling such unusual creations could come alive – some are concertinaed like caterpillars mid-crawl, others lollop down off surfaces or extend through entries collecting debris from touch (The artist invites viewers to touch and soil the works). As with earlier creations, the textile works are similarly displayed in – and escaping from – cheap looking transparent cases. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“The sculptures exhibit a specific look that draws viewers compelled by, yet simultaneously appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “It tries to be invisible, but it’s actually highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel ease or aesthetically soothed. Instead, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, awkward, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel a moist sensation on your head too, consider yourself the alert was given.