When considering washroom remodeling, it might be wise not to choose hiring Lisa Herfeldt for such tasks.
Indeed, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, creating fascinating artworks from this unlikely substance. Yet longer you look at her creations, the more you realise that an element feels slightly off.
Those hefty lengths from the foam she produces stretch over their supports where they rest, sagging off the edges below. The knotty silicone strands expand before bursting open. Some creations break free from their transparent enclosures entirely, evolving into an attractor of debris and fibers. It's safe to say the reviews would not be pretty.
There are moments I feel this sense that objects are alive within a space,” says Herfeldt. “That’s why I came to use silicone sealant as it offers such an organic texture and feeling.”
Certainly one can detect rather body horror about these sculptures, starting with that protruding shape which extends, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand within the showspace, to the intestinal coils from the material which split open like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, are mounted photocopies depicting the sculptures captured in multiple views: resembling squirming organisms observed under magnification, or formations in a lab setting.
I am fascinated by that there are things within us taking place that also have their own life,” she says. Elements which remain unseen or command.”
Talking of things she can’t control, the poster for the show displays a photograph of water damage overhead in her own studio in the German capital. It was erected decades ago as she explains, faced immediate dislike among the community since many historic structures were removed to allow its construction. By the time dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich although she spent her youth near Hamburg then relocating to Berlin during her teens – took up residence.
The rundown building proved challenging for the artist – she couldn’t hang her pieces without concern risk of ruin – however, it was fascinating. With no building plans accessible, nobody had a clue methods to address the problems which occurred. Once an overhead section within her workspace was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the single remedy meant swapping the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.
In a different area, Herfeldt says the water intrusion was severe so multiple collection units got placed above the false roof to divert the moisture elsewhere.
“I realised that the building resembled an organism, a totally dysfunctional body,” Herfeldt states.
These conditions brought to mind a classic film, John Carpenter’s debut movie from the seventies concerning a conscious ship that develops independence. And as you might notice from the show’s title – a trio of references – that’s not the only film to have influenced Herfeldt’s show. These titles indicate main characters in Friday 13th, another scary movie and Alien as listed. The artist references an academic paper by the American professor, outlining these “final girls” a distinctive cinematic theme – protagonists by themselves to overcome.
“She’s a bit tomboyish, on the silent side enabling their survival because she’s quite clever,” the artist explains about such characters. “They don’t take drugs nor sexual activity. Regardless the audience's identity, all empathize with the final girl.”
She draws a similarity between these characters and her sculptures – elements that barely staying put despite the pressures they face. Does this mean the art really concerning societal collapse than just leaky ceilings? Because like so many institutions, substances like silicone meant to insulate and guard against harm in fact are decaying in our environment.
“Oh, totally,” responds the artist.
Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, the artist worked with other unusual materials. Previous exhibitions included organic-looking pieces using a synthetic material you might see within outdoor gear or in coats. Once more, there's the impression such unusual creations seem lifelike – some are concertinaed as insects in motion, others lollop down on vertical planes or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (The artist invites viewers to touch and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces also occupy – and breaking out of – cheap looking display enclosures. They’re ugly looking things, and really that’s the point.
“The sculptures exhibit a certain aesthetic which makes one highly drawn to, while also they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments amusedly. “The art aims for not there, yet in reality extremely obvious.”
The artist does not create art to provide comfortable or beauty. Conversely, she aims for unease, strange, maybe even amused. And if there's a moist sensation overhead as well, remember the alert was given.
