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Should you be thinking about restroom upgrades, you may want to avoid hiring Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Certainly, she's an expert in handling foam materials, creating intriguing artworks with a surprising art material. But as you observe her creations, the stronger you realise a certain aspect is a little off.

Those hefty tubes from the foam Herfeldt forms extend beyond display surfaces on which they sit, hanging over the sides to the ground. The knotty tubular forms swell until they split. Certain pieces leave their transparent enclosures completely, turning into a collector of debris and fibers. One could imagine the feedback might not get favorable.

At times I get this sense that items possess life inside an area,” remarks Herfeldt. “That’s why I started using this substance due to its such an organic feel and appearance.”

Indeed there is an element almost visceral regarding Herfeldt’s work, including the suggestive swelling which extends, hernia-like, off its base in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils of foam which split open resembling bodily failures. Along a surface, the artist presents prints depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: appearing as wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or formations on culture plates.

“It interests me is the idea inside human forms taking place that seem to hold their own life,” Herfeldt explains. Elements which remain unseen or control.”

Talking of elements beyond her influence, the poster for the show includes a photograph of the leaky ceiling within her workspace located in Berlin. It was erected decades ago and according to her, was instantly hated among the community because a lot of older edifices were torn down for its development. It was already dilapidated as the artist – originally from Munich but grew up in northern Germany then relocating to Berlin during her teens – moved in.

This deteriorating space was frustrating for her work – placing artworks was difficult the sculptures without concern they might be damaged – however, it was intriguing. With no building plans accessible, it was unclear how to repair the malfunctions that arose. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it fell apart fully, the sole fix meant swapping it with another – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, she describes dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins got placed in the suspended ceiling to channel the water to a different sink.

It dawned on me that the structure acted as a physical form, a totally dysfunctional body,” the artist comments.

The situation reminded her of Dark Star, the initial work 1974 film concerning a conscious ship which becomes autonomous. As the exhibition's title suggests through the heading – a trio of references – other cinematic works influenced to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. Those labels indicate the female protagonists in the slasher film, Halloween and Alien respectively. She mentions a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, outlining these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, on the silent side and they endure because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates of the archetypal final girl. “They don’t take drugs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, all empathize with the final girl.”

Herfeldt sees a similarity between these characters to her artworks – things that are just about staying put despite the pressures they face. So is her work focused on societal collapse rather than simply leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone that should seal and protect us from damage are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Completely,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration using foam materials, she experimented with different unconventional substances. Past displays included organic-looking pieces made from fabric similar to typical for on a sleeping bag or in coats. Again there is the sense such unusual creations might animate – some are concertinaed as insects in motion, others lollop down from walls or extend through entries collecting debris from touch (She prompts audiences to interact and dirty her art). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations also occupy – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic which makes one compelled by, yet simultaneously being quite repulsive,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “It tries to be absent, but it’s actually extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt is not making art to provide ease or beauty. Conversely, her intention is to evoke unease, odd, perhaps entertained. And if there's water droplets on your head additionally, remember you haven’t been warned.