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Should you be thinking about restroom upgrades, it might be wise to steer clear of engaging the sculptor for the job.

Indeed, she's an expert in handling foam materials, producing intriguing creations from this unlikely art material. Yet as you look at the artworks, the more one notices that something feels slightly off.

The thick lengths of sealant Herfeldt forms stretch beyond the shelves on which they sit, hanging downwards to the ground. The gnarled tubular forms swell till they rupture. A few artworks leave their transparent enclosures completely, evolving into a magnet for dust and hair. Let's just say the feedback might not get favorable.

There are moments I feel this sense that things are alive in a room,” remarks the German artist. “That’s why I turned to this substance because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

In fact there’s something somewhat grotesque about these sculptures, from the phallic bulge jutting out, similar to a rupture, from the support within the showspace, and the winding tubes of foam which split open as if in crisis. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed images showing the pieces viewed from different angles: they look like microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me that there are things inside human forms happening that also have a life of their own,” Herfeldt explains. “Things which remain unseen or command.”

On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement featured in the exhibition displays an image of water damage overhead at her creative space located in Berlin. It was built in the early 1970s as she explains, was quickly despised from residents because a lot of historic structures were torn down in order to make way for it. It was already dilapidated upon her – originally from Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg then relocating to Berlin in her youth – began using the space.

This decrepit property was frustrating to Herfeldt – it was risky to display the sculptures anxiously they might be damaged – however, it was intriguing. With no building plans on hand, it was unclear how to repair the malfunctions which occurred. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it gave way completely, the single remedy meant swapping it with another – and so the cycle continued.

Elsewhere on the property, the artist explains the leaking was so bad that a series of drainage containers were set up within the drop ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

I understood that this place acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

These conditions reminded her of a classic film, the director's first cinematic piece featuring a smart spaceship that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – three distinct names – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced this exhibition. The three names point to the female protagonists in the slasher film, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit respectively. Herfeldt cites an academic paper from a scholar, outlining these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – women left alone to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive because she’s quite clever,” says Herfeldt of the archetypal final girl. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, all empathize with the survivor.”

The artist identifies a similarity between these characters to her artworks – elements that barely holding in place amidst stress they face. So is her work focused on societal collapse than just leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield from deterioration are gradually failing within society.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Past displays have involved tongue-like shapes made from the kind of nylon fabric typical for in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Once more, there's the impression these strange items could come alive – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, pieces hang loosely off surfaces or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and soil the works). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are also housed in – and escaping from – budget-style transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“They have a particular style which makes one compelled by, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” the artist comments grinning. “It tries to be not there, but it’s actually highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel ease or beauty. Rather, she wants you to feel unease, odd, perhaps entertained. And if there's something wet dripping on your head too, consider yourself the alert was given.