🔗 Share this article

Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it might be wise not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.

Truly, Herfeldt is highly skilled using sealant applicators, crafting compelling creations from this unlikely art material. However as you examine the artworks, the stronger one notices that something is a little off.

Those hefty lengths made of silicone she crafts extend over display surfaces on which they sit, drooping over the sides below. The knotty silicone strands swell before bursting open. A few artworks leave their transparent enclosures entirely, becoming an attractor for grime and particles. Let's just say the feedback might not get positive.

“I sometimes have the feeling that items possess life in a room,” states the German artist. Hence I started using silicone sealant as it offers a distinctly physical texture and feeling.”

Indeed there’s something rather body horror regarding the artist's creations, including that protruding shape that protrudes, like a medical condition, from its cylindrical stand within the showspace, and the winding tubes of foam that rupture like medical emergencies. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed prints of the works captured in multiple views: resembling microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or growths in a lab setting.

I am fascinated by that there are things in our bodies happening that also have a life of their own,” the artist notes. “Things which remain unseen or control.”

Talking of things she can’t control, the exhibition advertisement for the show features a picture of the leaky ceiling at her creative space in the German capital. Constructed erected decades ago and, she says, was quickly despised from residents as numerous older edifices were removed to allow its construction. By the time dilapidated as the artist – who was born in Munich but grew up north of Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues for her work – placing artworks was difficult her art works without concern they might be damaged – but it was also intriguing. Lacking architectural drawings on hand, nobody had a clue how to repair the problems that developed. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the single remedy meant swapping the damaged part – thus repeating the process.

In a different area, the artist explains the water intrusion was severe so multiple drainage containers were installed in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

It dawned on me that the building acted as a physical form, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

The situation brought to mind the sci-fi movie, the initial work movie from the seventies featuring a smart spaceship that develops independence. Additionally, observers may note from the show’s title – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced impacting Herfeldt’s show. The three names refer to the female protagonists in the slasher film, another scary movie and Alien as listed. The artist references a critical analysis by the American professor, outlining these surviving characters a distinctive cinematic theme – female characters isolated to overcome.

They often display toughness, on the silent side and she can survive thanks to resourcefulness,” says Herfeldt of the archetypal final girl. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. It is irrelevant the audience's identity, we can all identify with the survivor.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel linking these figures with her creations – objects which only staying put despite the pressures they’re under. Is the exhibition focused on social breakdown beyond merely dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, these materials that should seal and protect against harm in fact are decaying within society.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Recent shows have involved organic-looking pieces using a synthetic material found in in insulated clothing or apparel lining. Again there is the impression such unusual creations might animate – a few are compressed as insects in motion, some droop heavily on vertical planes or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (The artist invites audiences to interact and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, the textile works also occupy – and escaping from – budget-style transparent cases. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“They have a specific look which makes one highly drawn to, while also they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments grinning. “It attempts to seem absent, yet in reality very present.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer comfortable or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she wants you to feel uncomfortable, awkward, maybe even amused. And if there's something wet dripping from above as well, don’t say you haven’t been warned.