🔗 Share this article

If you're planning bathroom renovations, it might be wise to steer clear of employing Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Indeed, she's an expert in handling foam materials, crafting intriguing sculptures from this unlikely art material. Yet the more look at these pieces, the more it becomes apparent that an element feels slightly off.

The thick lengths made of silicone Herfeldt forms extend over their supports supporting them, sagging over the sides to the ground. The knotty silicone strands swell till they rupture. Certain pieces escape their transparent enclosures completely, becoming a collector for dust and hair. It's safe to say the ratings would not be positive.

There are moments I feel this sense that items seem animated inside an area,” says the German artist. “That’s why I came to use this foam material as it offers a distinctly physical texture and feeling.”

Indeed one can detect somewhat grotesque regarding these sculptures, starting with the suggestive swelling which extends, similar to a rupture, from the support at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes from the material which split open resembling bodily failures. On one wall, are mounted images of the works captured in multiple views: they look like squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations on a petri-dish.

What captivates me that there are things within us taking place that also have a life of their own,” she says. Elements you can’t see or manage.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the poster promoting the event displays a photograph of the leaky ceiling within her workspace in the German capital. Constructed built in the early 1970s as she explains, was instantly hated by local people as numerous older edifices were removed to allow its construction. It was already dilapidated when Herfeldt – originally from Munich but grew up in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital in her youth – began using the space.

This deteriorating space was frustrating to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang her pieces anxiously risk of ruin – however, it was compelling. With no building plans on hand, it was unclear methods to address any of the issues that arose. After a part of the roof in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the single remedy was to replace the panel with a new one – perpetuating the issue.

In a different area, she describes dripping was extreme that a series of drainage containers were set up above the false roof to channel leaks to another outlet.

“I realised that this place was like a body, an entirely malfunctioning system,” Herfeldt states.

These conditions brought to mind a classic film, the director's first movie from the seventies concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note through the heading – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced shaping the artist's presentation. These titles refer to main characters from a horror classic, another scary movie plus the sci-fi hit as listed. The artist references a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, that describes these “final girls” as a unique film trope – protagonists by themselves to overcome.

They often display toughness, reserved in nature enabling their survival thanks to resourcefulness,” says Herfeldt regarding this trope. They avoid substances or have sex. Regardless who is watching, all empathize with the survivor.”

She draws a parallel from these protagonists and her sculptures – objects which only staying put under strain they’re under. So is her work more about cultural decay rather than simply leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield from deterioration in fact are decaying in our environment.

“Completely,” responds the artist.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used alternative odd mediums. Past displays included organic-looking pieces using the kind of nylon fabric you might see within outdoor gear or in coats. Again there is the impression these peculiar objects might animate – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, others lollop down off surfaces blocking passages 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 breaking out of – cheap looking acrylic glass boxes. They’re ugly looking things, and that's the essence.

“These works possess a specific look which makes one highly drawn to, while also appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “The art aims for invisible, however, it is highly noticeable.”

Herfeldt is not making art to provide comfortable or beauty. Instead, she aims for uncomfortable, odd, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel water droplets overhead additionally, remember the alert was given.