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When considering restroom upgrades, it's advisable to avoid employing Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Truly, Herfeldt is an expert in handling foam materials, producing fascinating creations with a surprising art material. Yet longer you observe her creations, the clearer you realise that an element seems somewhat strange.

Those hefty lengths of sealant she crafts extend past display surfaces where they rest, hanging downwards below. The gnarled foam pipes bulge till they rupture. A few artworks break free from their acrylic glass box homes completely, evolving into a collector for dust and hair. One could imagine the feedback might not get pretty.

“I sometimes have the feeling that objects are alive within a space,” says Herfeldt. Hence I started using silicone sealant because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

Indeed there’s something almost visceral regarding the artist's creations, including the phallic bulge which extends, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, or the gut-like spirals of foam which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed images of the works seen from various perspectives: appearing as wormy parasites picked up on a microscope, or formations on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by is how certain elements inside human forms happening that also have their own life,” she says. Phenomena which remain unseen or control.”

Talking of elements beyond her influence, the poster promoting the event includes a photograph of the leaky ceiling in her own studio in the German capital. The building had been made in the seventies and according to her, was quickly despised from residents since many older edifices got demolished for its development. The place was in a state of disrepair as the artist – originally from Munich although she spent her youth in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin during her teens – moved in.

This deteriorating space caused issues for the artist – she couldn’t hang her pieces without concern potential harm – but it was also fascinating. With no building plans accessible, nobody had a clue the way to fix any of the issues which occurred. When the ceiling panel at the artist's area got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the single remedy meant swapping it with another – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins were installed above the false roof to divert the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that this place resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

The situation reminded her of Dark Star, the initial work 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice from the show’s title – three distinct names – that’s not the only film to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to main characters from a horror classic, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit respectively. The artist references a 1987 essay from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” as a unique film trope – protagonists by themselves to overcome.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet and she can survive due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt of the archetypal final girl. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. Regardless the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

The artist identifies a parallel from these protagonists to her artworks – elements that barely maintaining position amidst stress they face. So is her work more about societal collapse rather than simply dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, these materials that should seal and protect from deterioration in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Absolutely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, she experimented with other unusual materials. Recent shows featured organic-looking pieces crafted from fabric similar to typical for within outdoor gear or in coats. Once more, there's the feeling these peculiar objects might animate – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily off surfaces blocking passages gathering grime from contact (She prompts viewers to touch and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, the textile works are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – budget-style acrylic glass boxes. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a specific look that somehow you feel compelled by, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” she says amusedly. “It tries to be absent, however, it is highly noticeable.”

Herfeldt is not making work to make you feel comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Instead, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, awkward, perhaps entertained. And if there's a moist sensation on your head too, remember this was foreshadowed.