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If you're planning bathroom renovations, it's advisable not to choose employing Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Indeed, she's highly skilled in handling foam materials, creating intriguing artworks from this unlikely substance. But the more look at the artworks, the stronger you realise that an element feels slightly unnerving.

The thick tubes of sealant she produces reach past their supports on which they sit, drooping over the sides to the ground. Those twisted tubular forms expand until they split. A few artworks break free from the display cases fully, evolving into a magnet for grime and particles. Let's just say the ratings might not get positive.

There are moments I feel this sense that things seem animated within a space,” remarks the German artist. Hence I started using this foam material as it offers a distinctly physical sensation and look.”

Indeed there’s something rather body horror about Herfeldt’s work, from the phallic bulge which extends, like a medical condition, from the support at the exhibition's heart, or the gut-like spirals of foam that burst resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, are mounted images of the works captured in multiple views: appearing as microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or growths in a lab setting.

What captivates me that there are things inside human forms taking place that also have a life of their own,” the artist notes. Phenomena that are invisible or manage.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement for the show displays a picture of the leaky ceiling at her creative space in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed made in the seventies and, she says, was quickly despised among the community because a lot of older edifices 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 prior to moving to the capital in her youth – took up residence.

This deteriorating space was frustrating for the artist – it was risky to display the sculptures anxiously potential harm – but it was also fascinating. Without any blueprints accessible, it was unclear methods to address the malfunctions which occurred. After a part of the roof within her workspace was saturated enough it gave way completely, the single remedy was to replace the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, she describes the water intrusion was severe so multiple drainage containers were installed within the drop ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

“I realised that this place acted as a physical form, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

The situation evoked memories of a classic film, the director's first movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft that takes on a life of its own. As the exhibition's title suggests from the show’s title – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – more movies have inspired shaping this exhibition. These titles point to the female protagonists in Friday 13th, Halloween and Alien respectively. She mentions a critical analysis by the American professor, that describes these “final girls” 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,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or engage intimately. And it doesn’t matter the audience's identity, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

She draws a similarity linking these figures and her sculptures – things that are just about maintaining position amidst stress affecting them. Does this mean the art really concerning social breakdown beyond merely dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone that should seal and protect from deterioration are gradually failing within society.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Previous exhibitions featured forms resembling tongues crafted from a synthetic material typical for in insulated clothing or in coats. Again there is the impression such unusual creations seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely from walls or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages people to handle and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, the textile works are similarly displayed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a particular style that somehow you feel highly drawn to, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” Herfeldt remarks with a smile. “It tries to be not there, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making art to provide ease or aesthetically soothed. Instead, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, odd, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel something wet dripping from above as well, remember this was foreshadowed.