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When considering bathroom renovations, it's advisable not to choose engaging the sculptor to handle it.

Certainly, she's a whiz using sealant applicators, creating intriguing creations out of an unusual substance. But longer you observe these pieces, the clearer one notices that an element feels slightly unnerving.

Those hefty lengths of sealant Herfeldt forms reach over the shelves on which they sit, drooping off the edges to the ground. The knotty tubular forms swell until they split. Some creations break free from their transparent enclosures fully, turning into a collector for dust and hair. It's safe to say the feedback might not get pretty.

At times I get an impression that objects seem animated within a space,” says Herfeldt. Hence I turned to silicone sealant because it has such an organic feel and appearance.”

Indeed there’s something somewhat grotesque about the artist's creations, from the phallic bulge jutting out, hernia-like, from the support within the showspace, and the winding tubes made of silicone that burst resembling bodily failures. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed photocopies showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: resembling microscopic invaders observed under magnification, or formations on culture plates.

I am fascinated by is the idea in our bodies happening that also have a life of their own,” Herfeldt explains. “Things you can’t see or manage.”

Regarding unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement featured in the exhibition includes an image showing a dripping roof within her workspace in the German capital. The building had been built in the early 1970s and, she says, was instantly hated by local people as numerous old buildings got demolished for its development. It was already dilapidated upon her – originally from Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – began using the space.

This deteriorating space proved challenging for her work – she couldn’t hang her pieces without fearing risk of ruin – but it was also fascinating. Without any blueprints on hand, no one knew how to repair the malfunctions that developed. Once an overhead section within her workspace became so sodden it fell apart fully, the only solution was to replace the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

In a different area, she describes dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins were installed in the suspended ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet.

I understood that the building acted as a physical form, a completely flawed entity,” Herfeldt states.

The situation reminded her of a classic film, the initial work 1974 film featuring a smart spaceship which becomes autonomous. As the exhibition's title suggests through the heading – a trio of references – more movies have inspired impacting this exhibition. The three names point to the female protagonists from a horror classic, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit respectively. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, that describes these “final girls” an original movie concept – female characters isolated to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates about such characters. No drug use occurs or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

She draws a similarity linking these figures with her creations – things that are just about holding in place amidst stress they’re under. So is her work more about social breakdown than just water damage? As with many structures, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard us from damage in fact are decaying within society.

“Completely,” she confirms.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, she experimented with different unconventional substances. Past displays included organic-looking pieces using a synthetic material found in in insulated clothing or in coats. Similarly, one finds the feeling these peculiar objects could come alive – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, others lollop down from walls or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (She prompts audiences to interact and soil the works). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces also occupy – and escaping from – cheap looking display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, which is intentional.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic that draws viewers very attracted to, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” she says with a smile. “The art aims for not there, but it’s actually highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create art to provide comfortable or visual calm. Rather, she wants you to feel unease, awkward, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel water droplets overhead too, don’t say this was foreshadowed.