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Should you be thinking about bathroom renovations, you may want not to choose employing this German artist for the job.

Truly, Herfeldt is highly skilled in handling foam materials, creating intriguing sculptures with a surprising medium. Yet as you look at these pieces, the clearer one notices a certain aspect is a little unnerving.

Those hefty tubes of sealant Herfeldt forms stretch beyond the shelves supporting them, drooping downwards towards the floor. The gnarled tubular forms expand till they rupture. A few artworks leave the display cases fully, becoming a collector of debris and fibers. One could imagine the ratings are unlikely to earn pretty.

There are moments I feel an impression that items are alive inside an area,” remarks the sculptor. This is why I came to use this foam material because it has this very bodily texture and feeling.”

Indeed there is an element rather body horror in Herfeldt’s work, starting with the suggestive swelling which extends, hernia-like, from the support at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes of foam that burst resembling bodily failures. Displayed nearby, are mounted prints showing the pieces viewed from different angles: resembling squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or colonies on a petri-dish.

“It interests me is the idea inside human forms taking place which possess their own life,” the artist notes. “Things that are invisible or command.”

Regarding things she can’t control, the poster featured in the exhibition includes a picture of the leaky ceiling within her workspace in the German capital. The building had been erected decades ago and, she says, faced immediate dislike from residents as numerous older edifices were removed in order to make way for it. By the time dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich yet raised in northern Germany then relocating to Berlin as a teenager – took up residence.

This decrepit property proved challenging for her work – it was risky to display the sculptures without concern they might be damaged – but it was also intriguing. With no building plans accessible, it was unclear methods to address the malfunctions that developed. After a part of the roof within her workspace got thoroughly soaked it collapsed entirely, the sole fix was to replace the damaged part – perpetuating the issue.

In a different area, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme so multiple drainage containers were installed in the suspended ceiling to channel the moisture elsewhere.

“I realised that the structure was like a body, a completely flawed entity,” she says.

The situation reminded her of Dark Star, the director's first 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 shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names point to the leading women in Friday 13th, the iconic thriller and Alien in that order. The artist references a 1987 essay written by Carol J Clover, which identifies these “final girls” as a unique film trope – women left alone to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” says Herfeldt regarding this trope. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. Regardless who is watching, everyone can relate to the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a similarity between these characters to her artworks – things that are just about maintaining position despite the pressures they face. Does this mean the art focused on cultural decay than just water damage? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Earlier in her career using foam materials, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Past displays have involved tongue-like shapes crafted from fabric similar to found in on a sleeping bag or in coats. Again there is the feeling these strange items could come alive – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, others lollop down from walls or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and soil the works). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic which makes one compelled by, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” she says amusedly. “The art aims for absent, however, it is very present.”

The artist does not create art to provide ease or visual calm. Instead, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, strange, or even humor. And if there's something wet dripping on your head too, remember this was foreshadowed.