Kaitlin Beckett explores the apocalypse, death and decay with dark humour

All the humans are dead, and our leftovers – bits of rope, computer parts, forgotten flags, bio-matter – are all that remains of our legacy. This is the world Kaitlin Beckett explores when she creates portraits of animals and the dead with macabre whimsy.

In these portraits, animals have discovered the remnants of our time and our anatomical decay, and they repurpose them in awkward, not-quite-right ways. For example, a frog banging a human heart like a bass drum with skeleton hands for drum sticks.

Kaitlin and I met for a beer in Northcote’s cosy bar, Kitty Somerset, and talked about her paintings, metalwork, and growing gas mask collection. Born in New Zealand, Kaitlin is soft-spoken with a subtle idiosyncratic streak – she has a rampant imagination, a dark sense of humour, and a fascination with death and decay.

She’s often inspired by science fiction literature, films and artwork; anything, she says, with a supernatural element.

“I’m always going to watch a movie with a supernatural element rather than something like a coming of age tale. I also love the Alien movies, they’re my favourite. And I’ve recently been rewatching Terminator,” she says.

“Some things I love in the genre don’t necessarily make it into my work, but the imagination behind them is what I find so inspiring.”

It’s helped her create her own, unique, dystopian world ruled by curious, often hybrid animals. I ask Kaitlin what her favourite animal is to depict.

“It always changes, but I tend to prefer animals without fur – birds and reptiles and things like that – because I like painting skin folds.”

But typically, paintings of animals often run the risk of looking a little like taxidermy, with no personality and lifeless eyes, she says. What I love about Kaitlin’s portraits is how each animal has subtle, emotive expressions that humanise them while also keeping their beastliness.

“If I tell a person what a work might mean to me, I’ve taken away their opportunity to come up with their own ideas.”

When I bring this up to Kaitlin, she says it’s because they’re struggling with making their human-era treasures work, like a wheel that won’t turn because they’ve stuck something into the wire.

“Usually they look annoyed, or ‘peevish’ is a word I quite like to use, they’re a little bit stressed out. But it’s not that negative, they’re just a little grumpy but still having a good time.”

I imagine it’s like the stereotype of an old man shaking his fist and yelling at kids to get off his lawn – grumpy, but harmless.

Kaitlin, however, is quick to point out she encourages people to create their own narratives when they look at her artwork. While each character has their own story, Kaitlin won’t reveal any specifics, leaving it to us to conjure each story.

“If I tell a person what a work might mean to me, I’ve taken away their opportunity to come up with their own ideas.

“I love it when people tell me what they think, it’s always so different from what I had in mind. You’re allowed to respond to art the way you want to.”

Kaitlin often includes symbolism, adding to the different interpretations her artwork can evoke. She says they’re more like internal references, rather than things you’d find in a book of symbols.

“I’ll include things that are relevant to me from what I’m thinking or feeling at the time, but they might not be so obvious to someone else,” she explains.

One example is the use of masks, and sometimes parts of her characters are hidden away. She says this is because she’s a private person.

“I tend to prefer animals without fur – birds and reptiles and things like that – because I like painting skin folds.”

She also keeps a collection of 12 or 13 vintage gas masks and goggles. Sometimes she uses them as reference images for her paintings.

“I bought my first one because I had a bunch of apocalyptic dreams where people were wearing gas masks. Some of them are a bit fragile actually, like the rubber’s cracked and stuff. I’ve got some kids ones as well, those are creepy.”

So it’s no surprise Kaitlin’s unexpectedly morbid union of biomechanics and zoology ends up having a steampunk veneer. She says she didn’t initially create this style on purpose, but soon consciously embraced steampunk into her world.

“I didn’t even know what that was until someone mentioned steampunk to me, and I was like ‘this is great, this is exactly what I like’.”

Before Kaitlin was a professional visual artist, she was a musician. She and her band moved to Melbourne in 2001 from New Zealand to garner more opportunities. And back in high school, she played multiple instruments (but later settled on bass guitar in the band) and joined the school orchestra.

“It was pretty full-on, I think I had four different music-related classes after school every week. Art was something I did for fun, just for me.”

Music is still essential to Kaitlin, but this time it’s part of her artistic process. In an interview for an art blog, she said she listens to mellow music in the morning, and heavier tracks at night. Nighttime is when Kaitlin’s curious imagination comes alive, and she creates her artwork with uninterrupted peace.

Though, she doesn’t rely on the sales of her artwork to make a steady income, instead working as a graphic designer. This means, she says, her work isn’t compromised by thinking about what might sell.

“I feel like if I didn’t have an external source of income I might make different creative decisions. I’d be thinking what’s going to sell, what galleries would like it. It might even be a subconscious thing.

“Sometimes I draw stuff, and I’m like, it’s so ridiculous. But sometimes those pieces end up selling, and other work that’s more normal-looking don’t do as well.”

This piece, Stilt Frog, was lauded in a recent exhibition.

In A Curious Pageant, a recent solo exhibition at the Stockroom Gallery, Kaitlin says works that sold were ones she almost didn’t bring with her, because she thought they might be a little too crazy. One portrait, for instance, that a few people said was their favourite, was a frog holding stilts with ropes coming out of its ribcage.

In the exhibition, Kaitlin also created her take on steampunk sculptures, experimented with augmented reality, and created a street art mural outside the gallery.

So it’s no surprise Kaitlin also extends her art to gothic, embossed metal work. She says it’s a “left-brain right-brain thing” that lets her explore different themes to what she paints.

The metal, pewter, is soft and malleable so she’s able to mould it into shapes: skulls, snakes, and spiders; and also vintage anatomy, grave monuments and dance of death imagery from around the 15th century.

“Dance of death imagery always had a lot of humour, with people running around pulling priests’ robes off, dancing and playing instruments,” she says.

“It’s gallows humour. We’re all going to die, so let’s just have a laugh.”