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When considering restroom upgrades, it's advisable to steer clear of engaging this German artist for the job.

Indeed, she's highly skilled in handling foam materials, crafting fascinating artworks with a surprising medium. However longer you look at the artworks, the stronger it becomes apparent that something is a little unnerving.

The dense lengths made of silicone she crafts reach past their supports supporting them, sagging off the edges below. Those twisted tubular forms expand before bursting open. A few artworks escape their acrylic glass box homes entirely, evolving into an attractor of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the reviews would not be positive.

“I sometimes have the feeling that items possess life inside an area,” says Herfeldt. “That’s why I started using silicone sealant because it has such an organic texture and feeling.”

In fact one can detect almost visceral about the artist's creations, starting with the phallic bulge that protrudes, similar to a rupture, off its base in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals made of silicone that rupture as if in crisis. Displayed nearby, the artist presents prints of the works seen from various perspectives: they look like wormy parasites observed under magnification, or colonies in a lab setting.

I am fascinated by that there are things inside human forms occurring that also have independent existence,” the artist notes. Phenomena you can’t see or control.”

Regarding unmanageable factors, the promotional image promoting the event features a picture of the leaky ceiling within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed built in the early 1970s and, she says, faced immediate dislike by local people because a lot of old buildings were removed to allow its construction. The place was dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich yet raised north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin as a teenager – moved in.

The rundown building caused issues to Herfeldt – it was risky to display the sculptures without concern risk of ruin – however, it was intriguing. Without any blueprints available, no one knew methods to address any of the issues that developed. After a part of the roof within her workspace became so sodden it gave way completely, the only solution meant swapping the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

In a different area, the artist explains dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins were set up in the suspended ceiling to divert the water to a different sink.

I understood that the building resembled an organism, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

The situation evoked memories of a classic film, the director's first 1974 film concerning a conscious ship that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice through the heading – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced this exhibition. The three names refer to the leading women in the slasher film, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, outlining these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, on the silent side enabling their survival thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs nor sexual activity. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

She draws a connection linking these figures to her artworks – elements that barely maintaining position amidst stress they face. So is her work more about social breakdown beyond merely dripping roofs? As with many structures, such components meant to insulate and guard from deterioration are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium in the silicone gun, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions have involved organic-looking pieces made from the kind of nylon fabric you might see within outdoor gear or in coats. Once more, there's the feeling these strange items could come alive – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily on vertical planes or spill across doorways attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts audiences to interact and dirty her art). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations also occupy – leaving – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.

“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one highly drawn to, yet simultaneously appearing gross,” she says amusedly. “It attempts to seem not there, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel relaxation or visual calm. Instead, she aims for uncomfortable, awkward, or even humor. And if there's water droplets from above too, remember the alert was given.