Unveiling the Sinister Sealant-Based Art: In Which Things Seem Alive

Should you be thinking about washroom remodeling, it might be wise to steer clear of employing the sculptor for such tasks.

Certainly, she's a whiz with a silicone gun, producing intriguing sculptures with a surprising substance. However longer you look at the artworks, the clearer one notices a certain aspect feels slightly unnerving.

The dense lengths from the foam Herfeldt forms stretch past display surfaces on which they sit, drooping off the edges to the ground. Those twisted silicone strands bulge before bursting open. A few artworks leave their acrylic glass box homes completely, evolving into a magnet for grime and particles. Let's just say the ratings are unlikely to earn favorable.

At times I get an impression that objects are alive in a room,” says the sculptor. Hence I started using silicone sealant because it has such an organic feel and appearance.”

Certainly there’s something rather body horror about the artist's creations, starting with that protruding shape that protrudes, similar to a rupture, off its base in the centre of the gallery, to the intestinal coils made of silicone that burst like medical emergencies. Displayed nearby, the artist presents images showing the pieces viewed from different angles: they look like microscopic invaders seen in scientific samples, or colonies on culture plates.

“It interests me is the idea within us taking place that seem to hold a life of their own,” Herfeldt explains. Phenomena which remain unseen or manage.”

Talking of unmanageable factors, the promotional image for the show displays a picture showing a dripping roof in her own studio in Kreuzberg, Berlin. It was made in the seventies and according to her, was quickly despised among the community because a lot of old buildings were torn down in order to make way for it. By the time dilapidated when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich but grew up in northern Germany prior to moving to the capital in her youth – began using the space.

This decrepit property caused issues to Herfeldt – placing artworks was difficult her pieces without concern risk of ruin – however, it was fascinating. With no building plans available, nobody had a clue the way to fix the malfunctions which occurred. When the ceiling panel in Herfeldt’s studio got thoroughly soaked it gave way completely, the only solution involved installing it with another – and so the cycle continued.

At another site, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad so multiple drainage containers were set up in the suspended ceiling in order to redirect leaks to another outlet.

“I realised that this place was like a body, a totally dysfunctional body,” Herfeldt states.

This scenario evoked memories of the sci-fi movie, the director's first 1974 film about an AI-powered spacecraft that develops independence. And as you might notice from the show’s title – a trio of references – that’s not the only film shaping Herfeldt’s show. These titles point to the female protagonists in Friday 13th, another scary movie and Alien respectively. She mentions a 1987 essay by the American professor, that describes the last women standing as a unique film trope – protagonists by themselves to triumph.

“She’s a bit tomboyish, rather quiet and she can survive due to intelligence,” says Herfeldt about such characters. No drug use occurs or engage intimately. And it doesn’t matter the viewer’s gender, we can all identify with the final girl.”

The artist identifies a similarity linking these figures with her creations – elements that barely staying put despite the pressures they’re under. So is her work more about societal collapse than just leaky ceilings? As with many structures, substances like silicone that should seal and protect us from damage are gradually failing around us.

“Absolutely,” she confirms.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, Herfeldt used other unusual materials. Past displays included tongue-like shapes crafted from a synthetic material found in on a sleeping bag or in coats. Again there is the impression these strange items might animate – a few are compressed as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely on vertical planes blocking passages gathering grime from contact (The artist invites viewers to touch leaving marks on pieces). Like the silicone sculptures, those fabric pieces are similarly displayed in – and escaping from – inexpensive-seeming acrylic glass boxes. The pieces are deliberately unappealing, which is intentional.

“These works possess a specific look that draws viewers highly drawn to, while also appearing gross,” Herfeldt remarks amusedly. “It tries to be not there, but it’s actually very present.”

The artist does not create work to make you feel relaxation or visual calm. Instead, she wants you to feel unease, awkward, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel a moist sensation on your head additionally, remember this was foreshadowed.

Megan Owens
Megan Owens

A passionate historian and travel writer with expertise in ancient Roman culture and Mediterranean destinations.