Delving into Lisa Herfeldt's Unsettling Silicone-Gun Sculptures: Where Objects Seem Living

When considering bathroom renovations, you may want to avoid engaging this German artist for the job.

Truly, she's highly skilled in handling foam materials, producing compelling creations from this unlikely substance. Yet as you observe these pieces, the more you realise that something seems somewhat strange.

The dense tubes from the foam Herfeldt forms extend past their supports where they rest, drooping over the sides below. The gnarled silicone strands expand until they split. Certain pieces escape their transparent enclosures fully, turning into a collector for dust and hair. It's safe to say the reviews would not be pretty.

“I sometimes have an impression that items possess life in a room,” remarks Herfeldt. “That’s why I started using silicone sealant due to its such an organic sensation and look.”

In fact there is an element somewhat grotesque regarding the artist's creations, from that protruding shape which extends, similar to a rupture, from its cylindrical stand within the showspace, to the intestinal coils made of silicone that burst like medical emergencies. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed photocopies of the works viewed from different angles: resembling wormy parasites observed under magnification, or formations on a petri-dish.

I am fascinated by is how certain elements within us occurring that seem to hold independent existence,” the artist notes. Elements that are invisible or manage.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the promotional image featured in the exhibition displays an image of the leaky ceiling in her own studio located in Berlin. It was made in the seventies and according to her, was quickly despised among the community because a lot of older edifices were torn down in order to make way for it. It was already in a state of disrepair when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich but grew up in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital during her teens – moved in.

The rundown building caused issues to Herfeldt – it was risky to display her art works anxiously risk of ruin – however, it was fascinating. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, nobody had a clue the way to fix any of the issues that arose. After a part of the roof at the artist's area became so sodden it fell apart fully, the only solution involved installing the damaged part – perpetuating the issue.

At another site, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe that a series of shower basins were installed in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect the moisture elsewhere.

“I realised that the building resembled an organism, a completely flawed entity,” Herfeldt states.

This scenario evoked memories of Dark Star, the director's first 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice given the naming – three distinct names – more movies have inspired shaping this exhibition. Those labels indicate the leading women in the slasher film, the iconic thriller and the extraterrestrial saga in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay by the American professor, outlining the last women standing a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains about such characters. “They don’t take drugs nor sexual activity. And it doesn’t matter the audience's identity, we can all identify with this character.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel linking these figures with her creations – objects which only maintaining position amidst stress they face. Does this mean the art more about cultural decay rather than simply dripping roofs? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield from deterioration are actually slowly eroding around us.

“Oh, totally,” responds the artist.

Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Recent shows have involved tongue-like shapes made from fabric similar to you might see on a sleeping bag or inside a jacket. Similarly, one finds the sense such unusual creations might animate – some are concertinaed resembling moving larvae, others lollop down on vertical planes or spill across doorways attracting dirt from footprints (She prompts people to handle leaving marks on pieces). As with earlier creations, these nylon creations also occupy – and breaking out of – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and that's the essence.

“They have a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel compelled by, and at the same time being quite repulsive,” the artist comments amusedly. “The art aims for invisible, however, it is highly noticeable.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or visual calm. Instead, she aims for uncomfortable, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's a moist sensation from above additionally, don’t say you haven’t been warned.