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When considering restroom upgrades, you may want to avoid engaging this German artist to handle it.

Indeed, Herfeldt is highly skilled using sealant applicators, creating fascinating artworks out of an unusual substance. Yet the more look at the artworks, the stronger it becomes apparent that an element feels slightly strange.

The thick lengths of sealant she crafts reach beyond the shelves on which they sit, drooping downwards towards the floor. The knotty tubular forms expand till they rupture. A few artworks leave their transparent enclosures completely, evolving into an attractor of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the feedback might not get favorable.

There are moments I feel the feeling that items possess life within a space,” says the German artist. “That’s why I turned to this foam material due to its this very bodily feel and appearance.”

Indeed there’s something almost visceral in these sculptures, including that protruding shape which extends, hernia-like, from the support within the showspace, and the winding tubes from the material which split open like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, Herfeldt has framed photocopies of the works captured in multiple views: they look like wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or growths in a lab setting.

What captivates me is the idea inside human forms taking place which possess independent existence,” Herfeldt explains. “Things that are invisible or command.”

Regarding things she can’t control, the promotional image featured in the exhibition includes a picture of water damage overhead in her own studio in the German capital. It was built in the early 1970s and according to her, faced immediate dislike among the community since many old buildings got demolished to allow its construction. By the time in a state of disrepair when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich yet raised in northern Germany then relocating to Berlin in her youth – moved in.

This deteriorating space proved challenging for the artist – placing artworks was difficult her art works anxiously they might be damaged – yet it also proved intriguing. Lacking architectural drawings accessible, nobody had a clue how to repair any of the issues that arose. When the ceiling panel within her workspace was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the only solution involved installing the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

At another site, the artist explains dripping was extreme that several collection units were installed within the drop ceiling to divert the moisture elsewhere.

I understood that the building resembled an organism, a completely flawed entity,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions brought to mind the sci-fi movie, the initial work movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to the female protagonists in the slasher film, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit respectively. She mentions a critical analysis from a scholar, outlining these surviving characters as a unique film trope – women left alone to save the day.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet enabling their survival due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt regarding this trope. “They don’t take drugs or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel from these protagonists to her artworks – elements that barely maintaining position amidst stress they face. Is the exhibition really concerning social breakdown beyond merely dripping roofs? As with many structures, these materials that should seal and protect from deterioration are gradually failing around us.

“Oh, totally,” she confirms.

Earlier in her career using foam materials, the artist worked with different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions have involved tongue-like shapes crafted from a synthetic material found in in insulated clothing or apparel lining. Similarly, one finds the feeling these peculiar objects seem lifelike – a few are compressed like caterpillars mid-crawl, pieces hang loosely on vertical planes or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and dirty her art). As with earlier creations, these nylon creations are also housed in – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“They have a certain aesthetic which makes one highly drawn to, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “The art aims for absent, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Conversely, she aims for discomfort, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's something wet dripping on your head too, don’t say the alert was given.