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If you're planning bathroom renovations, it's advisable to avoid employing the sculptor to handle it.

Truly, Herfeldt is an expert with a silicone gun, producing fascinating sculptures from this unlikely substance. However as you observe the artworks, the more one notices that something feels slightly off.

The dense tubes from the foam she crafts extend beyond display surfaces supporting them, drooping off the edges towards the floor. Those twisted silicone strands swell before bursting open. Certain pieces escape the display cases fully, becoming a collector for dust and hair. One could imagine the ratings would not be favorable.

“I sometimes have this sense that objects are alive in a room,” says Herfeldt. Hence I came to use this foam material as it offers such an organic texture and feeling.”

Certainly there is an element almost visceral about these sculptures, starting with the suggestive swelling jutting out, similar to a rupture, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, to the intestinal coils from the material that burst as if in crisis. Displayed nearby, Herfeldt has framed images showing the pieces viewed from different angles: resembling microscopic invaders observed under magnification, or growths in a lab setting.

I am fascinated by that there are things in our bodies taking place that also have their own life,” Herfeldt explains. Elements which remain unseen or control.”

Regarding unmanageable factors, the promotional image promoting the event features an image showing a dripping roof in her own studio located in Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s and according to her, was quickly despised from residents as numerous historic structures got demolished in order to make way for it. It was already run-down upon her – originally from Munich yet raised near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – began using the space.

This decrepit property was frustrating for her work – placing artworks was difficult the sculptures anxiously they might be damaged – however, it was intriguing. Lacking architectural drawings accessible, nobody had a clue the way to fix the malfunctions that developed. When the ceiling panel within her workspace was saturated enough it collapsed entirely, the single remedy involved installing the damaged part – perpetuating the issue.

In a different area, the artist explains the leaking was so bad that a series of drainage containers were set up within the drop ceiling to channel the moisture elsewhere.

It dawned on me that the building was like a body, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

These conditions evoked memories of a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. As the exhibition's title suggests through the heading – a trio of references – that’s not the only film impacting the artist's presentation. The three names indicate main characters in Friday 13th, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, which identifies these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances nor sexual activity. Regardless the audience's identity, we can all identify with the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a connection from these protagonists to her artworks – objects which only staying put amidst stress they face. Is the exhibition more about societal collapse rather than simply water damage? As with many structures, such components meant to insulate and guard us from damage in fact are decaying around us.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Recent shows have involved tongue-like shapes using a synthetic material typical for in insulated clothing or inside a jacket. Similarly, one finds the feeling these strange items seem lifelike – a few are compressed like caterpillars mid-crawl, others lollop down off surfaces or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (The artist invites viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces also occupy – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming transparent cases. These are unattractive objects, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel very attracted to, while also appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks with a smile. “The art aims for invisible, but it’s actually very present.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't work to make you feel relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Instead, she wants you to feel unease, strange, perhaps entertained. And if there's something wet dripping on your head additionally, don’t say you haven’t been warned.