🔗 Share this article

If you're planning restroom upgrades, it might be wise not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Truly, she's a whiz with a silicone gun, creating intriguing sculptures out of an unusual medium. Yet the more look at these pieces, the stronger one notices a certain aspect seems somewhat off.

Those hefty lengths from the foam she produces extend past the shelves supporting them, drooping off the edges towards the floor. The gnarled foam pipes bulge until they split. Certain pieces leave their acrylic glass box homes completely, becoming an attractor of debris and fibers. Let's just say the feedback are unlikely to earn positive.

At times I get this sense that items possess life within a space,” remarks the sculptor. “That’s why I started using silicone sealant because it has this very bodily sensation and look.”

Indeed there’s something rather body horror about Herfeldt’s work, starting with the phallic bulge jutting out, like a medical condition, from the support at the exhibition's heart, or the gut-like spirals of foam that rupture like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, the artist presents images showing the pieces viewed from different angles: appearing as squirming organisms seen in scientific samples, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me is how certain elements in our bodies taking place that also have independent existence,” the artist notes. “Things which remain unseen or command.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the promotional image featured in the exhibition displays a photograph of water damage overhead within her workspace in the German capital. The building had been made in the seventies and, she says, was instantly hated among the community as numerous old buildings got demolished to allow its construction. It was already dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich yet raised north of Hamburg prior to moving to the capital in her youth – took up residence.

The rundown building proved challenging for the artist – placing artworks was difficult her pieces without concern risk of ruin – but it was also fascinating. Without any blueprints available, nobody had a clue methods to address the malfunctions which occurred. When the ceiling panel within her workspace became so sodden it gave way completely, the sole fix meant swapping it with another – and so the cycle continued.

Elsewhere on the property, the artist explains the leaking was so bad that several drainage containers were set up above the false roof to divert leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that this place acted as a physical form, an entirely malfunctioning system,” she says.

These conditions brought to mind a classic film, the initial work movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice given the naming – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. These titles indicate the leading women from a horror classic, another scary movie and Alien as listed. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, which identifies these “final girls” an original movie concept – protagonists by themselves to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival due to intelligence,” she elaborates about such characters. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant who is watching, we can all identify with this character.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel linking these figures to her artworks – elements that barely holding in place under strain affecting them. Is the exhibition more about social breakdown beyond merely leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, such components meant to insulate and guard against harm are gradually failing within society.

“Completely,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Past displays featured forms resembling tongues crafted from fabric similar to you might see within outdoor gear or in coats. Once more, there's the impression these peculiar objects seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely off surfaces blocking passages collecting debris from touch (She prompts audiences to interact leaving marks on pieces). As with earlier creations, the textile works are also housed in – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“They have a certain aesthetic which makes one highly drawn to, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments amusedly. “It tries to be absent, but it’s actually very present.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or visual calm. Rather, she wants you to feel unease, awkward, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel something wet dripping on your head too, remember the alert was given.