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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, it's advisable not to choose employing the sculptor for such tasks.

Truly, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, crafting intriguing artworks out of an unusual substance. However as you examine the artworks, the more you realise that something seems somewhat strange.

Those hefty strands from the foam Herfeldt forms reach past their supports where they rest, hanging over the sides below. Those twisted tubular forms expand until they split. Certain pieces leave their transparent enclosures entirely, evolving into a collector for grime and particles. It's safe to say the feedback would not be favorable.

At times I get an impression that items are alive within a space,” says the German artist. “That’s why I turned to this foam material as it offers a distinctly physical feel and appearance.”

Indeed there is an element rather body horror about the artist's creations, including the phallic bulge that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals of foam which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, are mounted prints depicting the sculptures captured in multiple views: resembling microscopic invaders observed under magnification, or growths on a petri-dish.

“It interests me is how certain elements inside human forms happening that also have their own life,” the artist notes. Phenomena which remain unseen or command.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement featured in the exhibition includes a photograph showing a dripping roof at her creative space located in Berlin. It was erected decades ago and, she says, was quickly despised among the community since many historic structures were torn down for its development. It was already run-down when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital in her youth – took up residence.

The rundown building proved challenging for her work – placing artworks was difficult her pieces anxiously potential harm – however, it was fascinating. Lacking architectural drawings accessible, it was unclear how to repair the malfunctions that developed. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it collapsed entirely, the single remedy involved installing the panel with a new one – thus repeating the process.

Elsewhere on the property, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that several collection units were installed within the drop ceiling to channel leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the structure resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions reminded her of a classic film, the director's first 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced this exhibition. The three names refer to the female protagonists from a horror classic, Halloween and Alien in that order. She mentions an academic paper from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” as a unique film trope – women left alone to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. And it doesn’t matter who is watching, we can all identify with the final girl.”

She draws a parallel between these characters and her sculptures – elements that barely holding in place despite the pressures they face. So is her work really concerning cultural decay than just leaky ceilings? As with many structures, these materials intended to secure and shield from deterioration are gradually failing in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Recent shows included organic-looking pieces crafted from a synthetic material found in on a sleeping bag or apparel lining. Again there is the impression these peculiar objects might animate – some are concertinaed like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily on vertical planes or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces are also housed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic which makes one compelled by, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” the artist comments with a smile. “The art aims for invisible, yet in reality highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create art to provide comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she aims for uncomfortable, awkward, perhaps entertained. And if there's something wet dripping overhead too, don’t say this was foreshadowed.