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When considering bathroom renovations, you may want to avoid hiring the sculptor for the job.

Truly, she's a whiz in handling foam materials, producing compelling creations out of an unusual art material. Yet longer you examine the artworks, the more one notices that an element is a little strange.

Those hefty lengths from the foam Herfeldt forms stretch past display surfaces where they rest, hanging off the edges towards the floor. The gnarled silicone strands expand until they split. Certain pieces break free from their transparent enclosures completely, evolving into a collector for grime and particles. It's safe to say the feedback are unlikely to earn pretty.

At times I get this sense that things seem animated in a room,” remarks the sculptor. “That’s why I turned to this foam material because it has this very bodily sensation and look.”

Indeed there is an element almost visceral regarding these sculptures, starting with the suggestive swelling which extends, similar to a rupture, off its base at the exhibition's heart, to the intestinal coils made of silicone that burst as if in crisis. Displayed nearby, the artist presents prints of the works captured in multiple views: they look like wormy parasites picked up on a microscope, or formations in a lab setting.

“It interests me that there are things inside human forms happening that also have independent existence,” she says. “Things which remain unseen or control.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the poster featured in the exhibition includes a photograph of the leaky ceiling within her workspace located in Berlin. Constructed built in the early 1970s and, she says, faced immediate dislike among the community because a lot of historic structures got demolished for its development. It was already dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich yet raised in northern Germany then relocating to Berlin in her youth – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues for the artist – it was risky to display her art works anxiously risk of ruin – yet it also proved fascinating. Lacking architectural drawings available, it was unclear methods to address any of the issues that arose. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it collapsed entirely, the only solution involved installing it with another – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, she describes the leaking was so bad that a series of collection units were installed within the drop ceiling to channel the moisture elsewhere.

I understood that this place resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

The situation reminded her of Dark Star, the director's first cinematic piece featuring a smart spaceship that takes on a life of its own. Additionally, observers may note through the heading – a trio of references – more movies have inspired to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to the female protagonists in Friday 13th, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit as listed. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis by the American professor, which identifies these “final girls” an original movie concept – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and they endure due to intelligence,” the artist explains about such characters. No drug use occurs or have sex. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, everyone can relate to this character.”

The artist identifies a parallel between these characters with her creations – objects which only staying put despite the pressures they’re under. Does this mean the art more about social breakdown rather than simply leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone that should seal and protect from deterioration are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions featured tongue-like shapes crafted from the kind of nylon fabric typical for on a sleeping bag or in coats. Similarly, one finds the sense such unusual creations might animate – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, pieces hang loosely off surfaces or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (The artist invites viewers to touch and dirty her art). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations also occupy – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic that draws viewers compelled by, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” she says grinning. “It attempts to seem invisible, but it’s actually very present.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't pieces that offer comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Rather, her intention is to evoke discomfort, strange, or even humor. But if you start to feel something wet dripping from above too, don’t say the alert was given.