Exploring Lisa Herfeldt's Unsettling Silicone-Gun Sculptures: Where Things Seem Animated

When considering washroom remodeling, you may want to steer clear of engaging Lisa Herfeldt for the job.

Certainly, Herfeldt is highly skilled using sealant applicators, crafting fascinating sculptures from this unlikely medium. However as you look at her creations, the clearer one notices that an element is a little strange.

The thick strands of sealant she crafts reach past their supports on which they sit, drooping over the sides towards the floor. The knotty silicone strands bulge before bursting open. Some creations leave their acrylic glass box homes entirely, evolving into a magnet for grime and particles. One could imagine the reviews might not get positive.

There are moments I feel the feeling that things possess life in a room,” says the sculptor. “That’s why I started using this foam material as it offers such an organic texture and feeling.”

In fact there’s something somewhat grotesque about Herfeldt’s work, from the phallic bulge which extends, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand at the exhibition's heart, or the gut-like spirals from the material which split open as if in crisis. Displayed nearby, are mounted photocopies showing the pieces viewed from different angles: they look like wormy parasites picked up on a microscope, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me is the idea within us taking place that also have independent existence,” Herfeldt explains. Elements which remain unseen or manage.”

On the subject of unmanageable factors, the exhibition advertisement for the show displays an image of water damage overhead at her creative space in the German capital. Constructed erected decades ago and, she says, faced immediate dislike among the community because a lot of historic structures were torn down in order to make way for it. It was already dilapidated when Herfeldt – a native of that city yet raised north of Hamburg before arriving in Berlin during her teens – moved in.

The rundown building caused issues to Herfeldt – she couldn’t hang her art works without fearing potential harm – yet it also proved intriguing. Without any blueprints available, it was unclear the way to fix the problems that arose. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it fell apart fully, the single remedy involved installing the panel with a new one – and so the cycle continued.

In a different area, she describes the water intrusion was severe so multiple shower basins got placed above the false roof to divert the water to a different sink.

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

The situation reminded her of a classic film, the director's first cinematic piece featuring a smart spaceship that takes on a life of its own. And as you might notice given the naming – a trio of references – that’s not the only film impacting the artist's presentation. The three names point to main characters in Friday 13th, another scary movie and the extraterrestrial saga respectively. The artist references a 1987 essay by the American professor, outlining the last women standing a distinctive cinematic theme – female characters isolated to overcome.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, reserved in nature and they endure because she’s quite clever,” she elaborates regarding this trope. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. It is irrelevant who is watching, everyone can relate to this character.”

She draws a parallel linking these figures and her sculptures – objects which only maintaining position under strain they’re under. So is her work more about cultural decay beyond merely leaky ceilings? Similar to various systems, substances like silicone intended to secure and shield from deterioration are actually slowly eroding in our environment.

“Oh, totally,” says Herfeldt.

Prior to discovering her medium using foam materials, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Past displays featured tongue-like shapes using a synthetic material you might see on a sleeping bag or inside a jacket. Again there is the sense such unusual creations might animate – a few are compressed resembling moving larvae, some droop heavily on vertical planes or extend through entries gathering grime from contact (Herfeldt encourages people to handle and soil the works). Like the silicone sculptures, these nylon creations are similarly displayed in – and breaking out of – budget-style transparent cases. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“These works possess a specific look that somehow you feel compelled by, and at the same time they’re very disgusting,” the artist comments grinning. “It attempts to seem not there, yet in reality extremely obvious.”

The artist does not create pieces that offer relaxation or beauty. Conversely, her intention is to evoke discomfort, awkward, perhaps entertained. And if there's a moist sensation from above additionally, consider yourself you haven’t been warned.

Sarah Robinson
Sarah Robinson

Urban planner and writer passionate about creating livable, eco-friendly cities through innovative design and community engagement.