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When considering bathroom renovations, it might be wise to steer clear of engaging Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Indeed, Herfeldt is an expert using sealant applicators, crafting intriguing sculptures out of an unusual substance. But as you look at her creations, the clearer you realise that an element is a little strange.

The dense lengths made of silicone she produces reach over the shelves where they rest, drooping over the sides to the ground. The gnarled silicone strands expand before bursting open. Some creations break free from their transparent enclosures entirely, becoming a collector for dust and hair. Let's just say the ratings might not get favorable.

At times I get this sense that things seem animated in a room,” says the sculptor. “That’s why I started using this foam material due to its such an organic texture and feeling.”

In fact there is an element rather body horror in these sculptures, including the phallic bulge which extends, like a medical condition, off its base at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes from the material that rupture like medical emergencies. Along a surface, are mounted photocopies of the works captured in multiple views: they look like squirming organisms seen in scientific samples, or formations on culture plates.

I am fascinated by is the idea inside human forms happening which possess independent existence,” she says. “Things that are invisible or manage.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the poster for the show features a photograph showing a dripping roof within her workspace in the German capital. It was built in the early 1970s and, she says, was quickly despised from residents as numerous old buildings were removed to allow its construction. The place was dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital as a teenager – began using the space.

This decrepit property was frustrating for the artist – placing artworks was difficult the sculptures without concern they might be damaged – but it was also fascinating. Without any blueprints available, no one knew how to repair any of the issues that developed. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the only solution meant swapping it with another – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, the artist explains dripping was extreme that a series of drainage containers were set up within the drop ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the building was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions brought to mind the sci-fi movie, the initial work 1974 film concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced impacting this exhibition. Those labels refer to main characters in the slasher film, another scary movie and Alien respectively. The artist references an academic paper from a scholar, that describes these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – female characters isolated to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or have sex. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, we can all identify with the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel linking these figures and her sculptures – objects which only maintaining position amidst stress affecting them. So is her work focused on social breakdown than just dripping roofs? As with many structures, such components intended to secure and shield us from damage in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Recent shows featured organic-looking pieces made from a synthetic material found in on a sleeping bag or inside a jacket. Once more, there's the sense these strange items seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely from walls or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (The artist invites audiences to interact and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – budget-style transparent cases. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“They have a certain aesthetic that draws viewers very attracted to, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” she says with a smile. “The art aims for absent, however, it is extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Instead, her intention is to evoke discomfort, awkward, maybe even amused. However, should you notice a moist sensation on your head additionally, remember you haven’t been warned.