Exploring Lisa Herfeldt's Unsettling Silicone-Gun Artistry: Where Things Appear Alive

When considering washroom remodeling, you may want to avoid employing this German artist for the job.

Truly, Herfeldt is highly skilled in handling foam materials, producing intriguing creations out of an unusual medium. However longer you observe her creations, the clearer you realise that something seems somewhat off.

The dense tubes of sealant she crafts stretch over display surfaces where they rest, drooping downwards to the ground. Those twisted silicone strands swell before bursting open. Some creations leave the display cases entirely, turning into a magnet of debris and fibers. One could imagine the ratings are unlikely to earn positive.

There are moments I feel the feeling that items are alive within a space,” says the German artist. This is why I turned to silicone sealant because it has such an organic feel and appearance.”

Indeed one can detect somewhat grotesque regarding the artist's creations, starting with that protruding shape jutting out, like a medical condition, off its base within the showspace, or the gut-like spirals of foam that rupture like medical emergencies. Along a surface, Herfeldt has framed prints depicting the sculptures seen from various perspectives: resembling squirming organisms observed under magnification, or growths in a lab setting.

“It interests me that there are things inside human forms occurring which possess their own life,” Herfeldt explains. Elements you can’t see or command.”

On the subject of things she can’t control, the poster featured in the exhibition features an image of water damage overhead within her workspace in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Constructed erected decades ago as she explains, faced immediate dislike among the community since many old buildings were torn down for its development. By the time run-down when Herfeldt – originally from Munich yet raised near Hamburg before arriving in Berlin as a teenager – moved in.

This deteriorating space proved challenging for the artist – it was risky to display her art works without fearing they might be damaged – yet it also proved compelling. With no building plans accessible, no one knew how to repair any of the issues that developed. When the ceiling panel within her workspace was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the sole fix was to replace the damaged part – and so the cycle continued.

In a different area, Herfeldt says dripping was extreme that a series of collection units got placed in the suspended ceiling to divert the water to a different sink.

I understood that this place acted as a physical form, a completely flawed entity,” the artist comments.

This scenario evoked memories of the sci-fi movie, the director's first movie from the seventies concerning a conscious ship that takes on a life of its own. As the exhibition's title suggests through the heading – three distinct names – more movies have inspired shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names indicate main characters from a horror classic, Halloween plus the sci-fi hit in that order. The artist references a critical analysis by the American professor, that describes these “final girls” an original movie concept – women left alone to triumph.

These figures are somewhat masculine, reserved in nature and she can survive due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt of the archetypal final girl. They avoid substances or have sex. Regardless the audience's identity, all empathize with the survivor.”

The artist identifies a similarity from these protagonists to her artworks – objects which only staying put under strain affecting them. So is her work focused on social breakdown rather than simply leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, these materials that should seal and protect against harm in fact are decaying within society.

“Absolutely,” says Herfeldt.

Before finding inspiration in the silicone gun, Herfeldt used different unconventional substances. Previous exhibitions included organic-looking pieces crafted from fabric similar to found in within outdoor gear or apparel lining. Similarly, one finds the impression these strange items might animate – certain pieces are folded like caterpillars mid-crawl, pieces hang loosely from walls blocking passages attracting dirt from footprints (Herfeldt encourages audiences to interact and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces also occupy – and breaking out of – cheap looking display enclosures. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a particular style that somehow you feel very attracted to, and at the same time appearing gross,” she says grinning. “The art aims for invisible, however, it is highly noticeable.”

Herfeldt's goal isn't pieces that offer relaxation or aesthetically soothed. Rather, she wants you to feel unease, strange, perhaps entertained. But if you start to feel a moist sensation overhead additionally, consider yourself this was foreshadowed.

Mary Jenkins
Mary Jenkins

A passionate writer and life coach dedicated to empowering others through motivational content and practical advice.