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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, it might be wise not to choose employing Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Truly, she's a whiz with a silicone gun, crafting compelling artworks from this unlikely medium. However the more examine her creations, the stronger it becomes apparent that an element is a little unnerving.

The dense lengths made of silicone she produces extend beyond display surfaces on which they sit, sagging downwards to the ground. The gnarled foam pipes bulge before bursting open. Certain pieces leave their transparent enclosures fully, turning into a collector for grime and particles. Let's just say the ratings are unlikely to earn positive.

At times I get this sense that things seem animated in a room,” remarks the German artist. “That’s why I came to use this foam material because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

In fact one can detect almost visceral in Herfeldt’s work, starting with the suggestive swelling which extends, like a medical condition, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes from the material that rupture as if in crisis. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed images depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: resembling wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or colonies on culture plates.

What captivates me is how certain elements within us occurring that also have their own life,” Herfeldt explains. “Things you can’t see or control.”

Talking of unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event includes a photograph showing a dripping roof within her workspace located in Berlin. It was built in the early 1970s and, she says, was instantly hated among the community because a lot of older edifices got demolished in order to make way for it. By the time dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues to Herfeldt – it was risky to display her pieces without concern they might be damaged – yet it also proved compelling. Without any blueprints on hand, nobody had a clue the way to fix the problems that developed. Once an overhead section at the artist's area became so sodden it fell apart fully, the sole fix involved installing the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, she describes the water intrusion was severe that several collection units were installed in the suspended ceiling to divert the moisture elsewhere.

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

These conditions brought to mind Dark Star, 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 – more movies have inspired shaping Herfeldt’s show. Those labels point to the female protagonists in Friday 13th, Halloween and Alien in that order. Herfeldt cites an academic paper written by Carol J Clover, which identifies the last women standing as a unique film trope – female characters isolated to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates regarding this trope. They avoid substances or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

She draws a similarity between these characters with her creations – objects which only holding in place amidst stress they face. So is her work focused on social breakdown than just dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, such components meant to insulate and guard against harm are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Prior to discovering her medium in the silicone gun, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Past displays featured organic-looking pieces made from the kind of nylon fabric found in within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Again there is the feeling such unusual creations seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily on vertical planes or spill across doorways attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts audiences to interact and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces also occupy – and escaping from – cheap looking transparent cases. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic that draws viewers highly drawn to, and at the same time appearing gross,” the artist comments grinning. “It tries to be invisible, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making pieces that offer ease or aesthetically soothed. Instead, she aims for unease, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's something wet dripping on your head as well, remember the alert was given.