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Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it might be wise to avoid employing the sculptor for such tasks.

Certainly, Herfeldt is an expert in handling foam materials, producing fascinating creations from this unlikely substance. But as you examine these pieces, the clearer you realise that something seems somewhat unnerving.

The dense lengths from the foam she produces reach over their supports where they rest, drooping downwards below. The knotty tubular forms swell until they split. Certain pieces escape their transparent enclosures entirely, evolving into an attractor of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the feedback are unlikely to earn pretty.

There are moments I feel an impression that objects seem animated inside an area,” remarks the German artist. Hence I started using this foam material because it has a distinctly physical texture and feeling.”

In fact there’s something rather body horror in the artist's creations, starting with the phallic bulge that protrudes, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals from the material which split open resembling bodily failures. On one wall, the artist presents images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: resembling microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or colonies on culture plates.

What captivates me is the idea in our bodies occurring which possess a life of their own,” the artist notes. “Things you can’t see or command.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays a picture of water damage overhead at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. It was made in the seventies as she explains, was quickly despised by local people as numerous old buildings were torn down to allow its construction. The place was in a state of disrepair when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – moved in.

The rundown building was frustrating to Herfeldt – it was risky to display the sculptures without fearing risk of ruin – but it was also fascinating. Lacking architectural drawings available, no one knew the way to fix the problems that arose. After a part of the roof within her workspace got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the sole fix involved installing the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

At another site, the artist explains the water intrusion was severe that a series of shower basins got placed in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

I understood that the structure was like a body, an entirely malfunctioning system,” Herfeldt states.

The situation evoked memories of a classic film, the initial work movie from the seventies concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. And as you might notice from the show’s title – three distinct names – more movies have inspired to have influenced this exhibition. These titles point to main characters from a horror classic, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, outlining these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – women left alone to overcome.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet and she can survive because she’s quite clever,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

She draws a connection linking these figures and her sculptures – things that are just about holding in place despite the pressures affecting them. Does this mean the art really concerning societal collapse beyond merely dripping roofs? As with many structures, these materials intended to secure and shield us from damage are actually slowly eroding in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration using foam materials, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Past displays have involved forms resembling tongues crafted from fabric similar to you might see in insulated clothing or apparel lining. Once more, there's the sense these peculiar objects could come alive – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, some droop heavily on vertical planes or spill across doorways attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts people to handle leaving marks on pieces). Similar to the foam artworks, these nylon creations are also housed in – and escaping from – cheap looking transparent cases. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“The sculptures exhibit a particular style that draws viewers very attracted to, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “It attempts to seem invisible, however, it is very present.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't art to provide comfortable or visual calm. Rather, she wants you to feel discomfort, strange, or even humor. And if there's something wet dripping from above as well, don’t say the alert was given.