🔗 Share this article Exploring Lisa Herfeldt's Sinister Sealant-Based Sculptures: In Which Things Seem Alive Should you be thinking about restroom upgrades, you may want to steer clear of employing Lisa Herfeldt to handle it. Certainly, Herfeldt is highly skilled with a silicone gun, creating intriguing artworks from this unlikely substance. But as you look at these pieces, the stronger it becomes apparent that something feels slightly unnerving. Those hefty strands of sealant she produces reach past their supports on which they sit, drooping downwards towards the floor. The knotty tubular forms swell until they split. Some creations escape their transparent enclosures completely, evolving into a collector for dust and hair. One could imagine the ratings might not get favorable. “I sometimes have this sense that things possess life within a space,” remarks the German artist. Hence I came to use silicone sealant due to its this very bodily sensation and look.” Indeed there is an element rather body horror regarding Herfeldt’s work, including the phallic bulge that protrudes, similar to a rupture, from the support within the showspace, to the intestinal coils made of silicone that burst resembling bodily failures. On one wall, Herfeldt has framed images of the works viewed from different angles: appearing as wormy parasites seen in scientific samples, or formations on culture plates. What captivates me is the idea within us taking place which possess independent existence,” Herfeldt explains. “Things that are invisible or control.” On the subject of elements beyond her influence, the exhibition advertisement promoting the event includes an image of the leaky ceiling within her workspace located in Berlin. Constructed made in the seventies and, she says, was instantly hated among the community as numerous old buildings were removed to allow its construction. It was already dilapidated upon her – originally from Munich although she spent her youth north of Hamburg then relocating to Berlin as a teenager – began using the space. The rundown building proved challenging to Herfeldt – it was risky to display her art works without fearing they might be damaged – but it was also compelling. Lacking architectural drawings accessible, it was unclear the way to fix the problems that developed. After a part of the roof within her workspace was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the single remedy was to replace the damaged part – perpetuating the issue. In a different area, she describes dripping was extreme so multiple shower basins were set up within the drop ceiling to divert leaks to another outlet. I understood that the building was like a body, a completely flawed entity,” Herfeldt states. This scenario brought to mind the sci-fi movie, John Carpenter’s debut cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. As the exhibition's title suggests given the naming – Alice, Laurie & Ripley – other cinematic works influenced impacting Herfeldt’s show. These titles refer to the leading women from a horror classic, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. She mentions a critical analysis written by Carol J Clover, that describes the last women standing an original movie concept – protagonists by themselves to save the day. These figures are somewhat masculine, rather quiet enabling their survival thanks to resourcefulness,” she elaborates regarding this trope. No drug use occurs nor sexual activity. It is irrelevant the viewer’s gender, we can all identify with the final girl.” Herfeldt sees a connection between these characters with her creations – elements that barely maintaining position under strain affecting them. Does this mean the art really concerning societal collapse than just dripping roofs? Because like so many institutions, such components meant to insulate and guard from deterioration are gradually failing in our environment. “Completely,” responds the artist. Before finding inspiration with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Past displays have involved organic-looking pieces using the kind of nylon fabric found in on a sleeping bag or in coats. Similarly, one finds the impression these peculiar objects might animate – certain pieces are folded resembling moving larvae, others lollop down off surfaces or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages viewers to touch and dirty her art). Similar to the foam artworks, the textile works are also housed in – leaving – inexpensive-seeming display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, which is intentional. “The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one highly drawn to, while also being quite repulsive,” Herfeldt remarks grinning. “The art aims for invisible, yet in reality extremely obvious.” The artist does not create work to make you feel relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Instead, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, awkward, or even humor. However, should you notice something wet dripping overhead additionally, remember this was foreshadowed.