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When considering restroom upgrades, it might be wise not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Certainly, she's a whiz using sealant applicators, creating compelling artworks from this unlikely medium. Yet as you look at her creations, the more it becomes apparent that something feels slightly strange.

The dense lengths of sealant Herfeldt forms stretch past their supports on which they sit, sagging off the edges towards the floor. The knotty tubular forms expand till they rupture. Certain pieces break free from the display cases completely, evolving into a magnet of debris and fibers. One could imagine the ratings are unlikely to earn favorable.

At times I get an impression that items are alive inside an area,” says Herfeldt. This is why I came to use silicone sealant because it has a distinctly physical feel and appearance.”

Indeed one can detect somewhat grotesque in Herfeldt’s work, from the phallic bulge jutting out, like a medical condition, from the support within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals from the material which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, the artist presents photocopies showing the pieces captured in multiple views: resembling microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or growths on culture plates.

“It interests me is the idea within us happening which possess their own life,” the artist notes. Phenomena that are invisible or command.”

Talking of elements beyond her influence, the promotional image featured in the exhibition features an image of water damage overhead at her creative space in the German capital. Constructed made in the seventies and according to her, faced immediate dislike from residents since many historic structures were removed in order to make way for it. The place was in a state of disrepair upon her – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital as a teenager – moved in.

This deteriorating space was frustrating for her work – she couldn’t hang her art works without fearing potential harm – yet it also proved compelling. Without any blueprints on hand, nobody had a clue the way to fix any of the issues that developed. Once an overhead section at the artist's area became so sodden it gave way completely, the single remedy meant swapping the damaged part – perpetuating the issue.

In a different area, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins got placed in the suspended ceiling to channel the water to a different sink.

“I realised that the structure resembled an organism, a totally dysfunctional body,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions brought to mind Dark Star, the initial work 1974 film concerning a conscious ship that takes on a life of its own. As the exhibition's title suggests through the heading – a trio of references – more movies have inspired shaping this exhibition. The three names refer to main characters from a horror classic, Halloween and Alien in that order. The artist references a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, outlining these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

They often display toughness, on the silent side enabling their survival due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt about such characters. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, everyone can relate to this character.”

She draws a connection between these characters to her artworks – elements that barely holding in place amidst stress affecting them. So is her work more about cultural decay rather than simply dripping roofs? As with many structures, these materials meant to insulate and guard us from damage in fact are decaying around us.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions have involved forms resembling tongues crafted from a synthetic material found in in insulated clothing or in coats. Again there is the sense such unusual creations might animate – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, others lollop down from walls blocking passages gathering grime from contact (She prompts viewers to touch and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations also occupy – and breaking out of – budget-style transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“They have a certain aesthetic that draws viewers compelled by, yet simultaneously they’re very disgusting,” Herfeldt remarks grinning. “The art aims for invisible, but it’s actually highly noticeable.”

Herfeldt is not making art to provide relaxation or visual calm. Instead, she aims for uncomfortable, strange, or even humor. And if there's a moist sensation on your head too, consider yourself this was foreshadowed.