🔗 Share this article

When considering restroom upgrades, it might be wise to steer clear of engaging the sculptor for the job.

Certainly, she's an expert using sealant applicators, producing intriguing sculptures from this unlikely medium. However the more look at her creations, the clearer it becomes apparent a certain aspect feels slightly off.

Those hefty tubes from the foam she produces reach beyond display surfaces supporting them, drooping over the sides towards the floor. The knotty foam pipes bulge till they rupture. A few artworks leave the display cases fully, turning into a collector of debris and fibers. Let's just say the ratings would not be positive.

“I sometimes have this sense that items possess life inside an area,” says the German artist. “That’s why I turned to silicone sealant due to its a distinctly physical texture and feeling.”

Indeed there is an element almost visceral about the artist's creations, including the suggestive swelling which extends, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, and the winding tubes from the material that burst like medical emergencies. Along a surface, the artist presents images showing the pieces seen from various perspectives: appearing as squirming organisms picked up on a microscope, or colonies in a lab setting.

What captivates me that there are things in our bodies happening that seem to hold a life of their own,” the artist notes. Elements you can’t see or command.”

Regarding elements beyond her influence, the promotional image promoting the event includes a photograph of water damage overhead within her workspace in the German capital. It was erected decades ago as she explains, was quickly despised by local people as numerous old buildings got demolished in order to make way for it. It was already run-down upon her – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin during her teens – moved in.

This decrepit property caused issues for the artist – it was risky to display her pieces without concern they might be damaged – however, it was fascinating. With no building plans accessible, no one knew the way to fix the problems that developed. After a part of the roof within her workspace was saturated enough it gave way completely, the sole fix was to replace the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, she describes dripping was extreme that a series of shower basins were set up in the suspended ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet.

I understood that this place was like a body, a completely flawed entity,” Herfeldt states.

The situation reminded her of the sci-fi movie, the director's first movie from the seventies about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. And as you might notice from the show’s title – three distinct names – that’s not the only film to have influenced the artist's presentation. The three names point to the leading women from a horror classic, another scary movie and the extraterrestrial saga as listed. Herfeldt cites a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, which identifies the last women standing a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and they endure because she’s quite clever,” the artist explains of the archetypal final girl. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. And it doesn’t matter the audience's identity, all empathize with the final girl.”

The artist identifies a similarity between these characters and her sculptures – objects which only maintaining position amidst stress affecting them. Does this mean the art really concerning cultural decay beyond merely dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, such components that should seal and protect from deterioration are gradually failing in our environment.

“Completely,” she confirms.

Earlier in her career with sealant applicators, the artist worked with alternative odd mediums. Previous exhibitions included forms resembling tongues using the kind of nylon fabric found in in insulated clothing or in coats. Similarly, one finds the feeling these strange items seem lifelike – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely off surfaces or spill across doorways gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and dirty her art). As with earlier creations, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – cheap looking display enclosures. They’re ugly looking things, which is intentional.

“These works possess a certain aesthetic that somehow you feel highly drawn to, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” Herfeldt remarks grinning. “It tries to be invisible, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't work to make you feel relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Instead, she wants you to feel unease, strange, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel a moist sensation from above too, don’t say you haven’t been warned.