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When considering bathroom renovations, you may want not to choose hiring the sculptor to handle it.

Certainly, Herfeldt is a whiz with a silicone gun, creating compelling artworks out of an unusual substance. Yet as you examine these pieces, the clearer you realise a certain aspect seems somewhat off.

The dense lengths from the foam she produces stretch past display surfaces supporting them, drooping over the sides towards the floor. Those twisted foam pipes bulge before bursting open. A few artworks escape their acrylic glass box homes entirely, becoming a collector for dust and hair. One could imagine the feedback are unlikely to earn pretty.

At times I get an impression that things possess life inside an area,” remarks Herfeldt. This is why I came to use this foam material due to its this very bodily sensation and look.”

In fact one can detect almost visceral in Herfeldt’s work, starting with that protruding shape that protrudes, like a medical condition, from the support in the centre of the gallery, and the winding tubes from the material which split open as if in crisis. Along a surface, the artist presents images depicting the sculptures viewed from different angles: they look like squirming organisms seen in scientific samples, or formations in a lab setting.

What captivates me is the idea inside human forms taking place which possess a life of their own,” Herfeldt explains. Phenomena that are invisible or control.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the promotional image for the show displays a picture of water damage overhead at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. It was built in the early 1970s and, she says, was instantly hated by local people since many older edifices were removed for its development. By the time run-down as the artist – a native of that city yet raised in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital during her teens – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues for her work – it was risky to display the sculptures without concern they might be damaged – however, it was fascinating. With no building plans available, nobody had a clue methods to address the problems that developed. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it fell apart fully, the sole fix meant swapping the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, she describes the leaking was so bad that a series of shower basins got placed in the suspended ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet.

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

The situation evoked memories of a classic film, the initial work cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice given the naming – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced the artist's presentation. Those labels refer to main characters from a horror classic, the iconic thriller and Alien in that order. Herfeldt cites a 1987 essay from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” an original movie concept – protagonists by themselves to overcome.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” says Herfeldt of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

She draws a parallel between these characters with her creations – things that are just about holding in place amidst stress they’re under. So is her work really concerning societal collapse than just water damage? As with many structures, such components intended to secure and shield from deterioration are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium in the silicone gun, the artist worked with other unusual materials. Recent shows featured tongue-like shapes made from fabric similar to you might see on a sleeping bag or apparel lining. Once more, there's the feeling these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, some droop heavily off surfaces or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, the textile works are also housed in – and breaking out of – cheap looking transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.

“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one very attracted to, while also being quite repulsive,” the artist comments amusedly. “It tries to be invisible, however, it is extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't work to make you feel ease or aesthetically soothed. Conversely, her intention is to evoke discomfort, odd, perhaps entertained. And if there's a moist sensation on your head too, remember you haven’t been warned.