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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, it might be wise to avoid engaging this German artist for such tasks.

Truly, Herfeldt is an expert with a silicone gun, producing compelling sculptures with a surprising substance. But the more examine her creations, the clearer you realise that something seems somewhat off.

The dense tubes made of silicone she crafts stretch past display surfaces supporting them, drooping off the edges below. The knotty tubular forms bulge before bursting open. A few artworks escape the display cases completely, becoming a magnet for grime and particles. Let's just say the feedback might not get pretty.

At times I get an impression that objects are alive inside an area,” remarks the sculptor. “That’s why I started using this substance due to its this very bodily sensation and look.”

Certainly one can detect almost visceral about the artist's creations, starting with the phallic bulge that protrudes, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals of foam that burst as if in crisis. Along a surface, the artist presents photocopies showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: resembling wormy parasites observed under magnification, or colonies on a petri-dish.

“It interests me that there are things in our bodies taking place that also have a life of their own,” the artist notes. Elements that are invisible or manage.”

Talking of unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event displays a picture of water damage overhead at her creative space located in Berlin. The building had been built in the early 1970s and, she says, was quickly despised by local people because a lot of old buildings got demolished in order to make way for it. By the time run-down upon her – a native of that city yet raised near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – moved in.

This decrepit property was frustrating for her work – placing artworks was difficult the sculptures anxiously they might be damaged – however, it was compelling. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, no one knew methods to address the malfunctions that developed. Once an overhead section at the artist's area was saturated enough it collapsed entirely, the single remedy was to replace the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, the artist explains dripping was extreme that a series of shower basins were installed above the false roof in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the building resembled an organism, an entirely malfunctioning system,” the artist comments.

This scenario brought to mind Dark Star, John Carpenter’s debut 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – a trio of references – that’s not the only film impacting the artist's presentation. Those labels point to main characters in Friday 13th, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga in that order. The artist references a 1987 essay from a scholar, which identifies these surviving characters an original movie concept – female characters isolated to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet and she can survive because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, all empathize with this character.”

The artist identifies a similarity from these protagonists to her artworks – elements that barely holding in place under strain they face. So is her work more about societal collapse than just water damage? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield against harm are actually slowly eroding within society.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, she experimented with different unconventional substances. Recent shows have involved forms resembling tongues crafted from the kind of nylon fabric typical for in insulated clothing or in coats. Once more, there's the impression such unusual creations seem lifelike – some are concertinaed as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely from walls or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (The artist invites audiences to interact and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, those fabric pieces also occupy – leaving – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“They have a certain aesthetic which makes one very attracted to, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” she says amusedly. “It attempts to seem invisible, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making work to make you feel comfortable or visual calm. Rather, she wants you to feel unease, odd, maybe even amused. However, should you notice something wet dripping from above additionally, remember this was foreshadowed.