In Conversation With Doomsda7

If it wasn’t for a statement made by a neighbour, Doomsda7 might not be the illustrator that he is today. He and I meet at a hotel in Nairobi’s CBD upon his suggestion — he tells me that he used to frequent the place when he was a student at university. It only takes a few minutes of conversation to uncover an inner world of creative ideas bubbling underneath his modest, polite exterior. “I do this thing where when I listen to a song, I’m already planning a video in my head. Do you do that?” he asks. I tell him that I used to, at which point I learn that this seemingly unsophisticated mental activity forms the basis for many of his animated music videos.

Animated music videos are by no means a new technique. Whether it’s visualizers, full music, or lyric videos, the past few years have seen a surge in illustration as the preferred medium to accompany musical releases across Africa. And why not? Animation creates the opportunity to do what live-action cannot. Music videos have long since been emancipated from the realm of mainstream television broadcasting — in Kenya, this means that musicians and visual creators are now (mostly) freed from the shackles of moral policing and censorship. It’s a whole new world, and creators like Doomsda7 have the space to depict the realities of life — both good and bad — albeit in cartoon form. So far, sex, drugs, alcohol, and gun violence are common themes in a Doomsda7 music video, although many times, he is guided by the lyrical content of the songs. “If the artist is talking about love or money, I have to have that in my mind.” The result is often a more brazen show of decadence when compared to the time Wakimbizi introduced us to “John” in 2003 — a song which, despite being nothing more than a clever and humorous innuendo both lyrically and visually, still sparked a modest amount of outrage from listeners and viewers.

Doomsda7 does more than just develop illustrated music videos. His animations define the psyche of the present moment in creative Kenya: rebellious, unabashed, and unapologetically decadent. And while he doesn’t shy away from depicting the often depraved nuances of rap lifestyle and urban nightlife, his softer side emerges every now and then, as seen in recent projects “Supersonic” with AfroNautiq, Bensoul, and Xenia Manasseh and “Tuthii” with Ngalah Orenyo and Ayrosh.

As our conversation goes on, a staff member turns the TV on to the proceedings of the Supreme Court hearing in the wake of the recently concluded general election. Also, in the background, somebody plays Roddy Ricch’s “The Box” from their phone at full volume. I’m worried it might affect my recording, but I soon realize that it’s the perfect analogy for someone like Doomsda7: an illustrator who wants to shift the perspective of animation in Kenya and get our minds out of ‘the box.’ In getting to know Doomsda7, we talk about his short-lived stint at university, why animation has become so popular, musicians who don’t #payartists, and much more.

How did you start doing animation?

It’s a weird story. I was chilling with a friend of mine, and then someone outside — a neighbour — made a comment like, “Sufuria yangu iko wapi nani?” Then my friend asked me, “What if that was a Kenyan animation? With scenes like that?” At that time, I was in campus doing Computer Science, but after that day, that idea stuck in my mind for a few years.

I left campus, and I started playing around with Microsoft Paint. Then an artist friend of mine asked me to do a cover photo for his song. So I drew it, then I started messing with a bit of movement. Interchanging one frame, two frames… and he was like, “Si, you make me a whole video like this?” So I tried it… and it was ugly! (Laughs) But I persisted. I did some tutorials on YouTube, and the progress [I was making] is what pushed me.

How long have you been doing it?

I guess I’ve been doing it for about seven years. But the first video I ever posted was five years ago.

Do you do it full-time?

I do it full-time. I’m doing it freelance, so sometimes I stay for a while without getting a commission. I’m working on my own projects and other graphics jobs like character and storybook illustration, but animation is the main thing I’m doing. When I get a [commission], I work on it full-time.

What happened to Computer Science?

(Laughs) That was a nightmare.

Do you feel like it’s helped you, even in a small way?

No. Not at all.

Did you finish the degree?

I did not finish. I dropped out in third year. It wasn’t like I chose to stop doing it. I was expelled. I guess it wasn’t in me — I was forcing myself for those three years. Even though I didn’t know it, my grades showed it. But afterwards, I went to ADMI [Africa Digital Media Institute] to do a diploma in animation, mostly 3D though. I’ve never used that 3D knowledge because mostly I do 2D.

I think it was a good decision to leave Computer Science behind. I’ve never regretted it.

What’s your process of putting together a music video?

Let’s say you’re an artist. You have a song, and you come to me. If you have a concept for the video, you can tell me your own concept. Most artists don’t have a concept when it comes to animation — I’ve only met a few who know what they want. Most people give you a song and tell you to come up with an idea.

The first few days, I listen to the song on repeat in different situations — in a matatu, at home, in different places — just looking for an overall idea. The lyrics also guide me. I come up with a story — all my videos have a basic story. That main story is the one that drives the whole idea. Then I come to the scenes. Where the camera changes, where the location changes…

Is that process something you learned in school?

No, I figured it out as I was doing it. Actually, when I was working with [rapper] Muki Rai, that’s when I figured out the process. Muki was very involved. Every stage, I was doing with him. Like the line in “Shash Na MaShuksha” which says ‘…mshale kwa chuma ya reli –’

When he lights the matchstick on the train track?

(Laughs) Yeah. He insisted I put that in the video. So there are crucial shots that have to be there. There are others that just come about during the animation. Sometimes you plan the whole thing, then when you actually sit at the computer, you find a scene is too long or short, or you have to add something. I guess you don’t plan it detail by detail — you just plan a whole vague thing. When it comes to the animation, you follow the song.

A lot of people think animation is really exciting, but it’s monotonous work. The animation is the part that takes the most time, and it’s the one that’s “boring” — but not to me. I like seeing the characters come to life.

Do you hang out with a lot of artists?

I used to, but paths diverge. A lot of artists I was with quit or got day jobs. I went separate ways with a lot of them. I think nowadays I only have one friend who’s an artist, and we meet very rarely.

I used to chill with them when I was “green,” and I wanted inspiration, a lot of music, a lot of new things. I was still exploring my own art. But nowadays I find I can sit with someone who’s not an artist and I get an idea from them. I get inspiration from everyday life nowadays — I don’t have to be in the studio. I don’t have to listen to a new song. I can even listen to a song from the 90s, and I’m like, “This could be an awesome animation.”

I have a lot of artist friends, but hanging out has gone a bit low. I want to go back into those circles, though. Working alone is tough.

How did you come to meet people like Benzema, Bensoul, Watendawili, and others?

Benzema reached out to me through IG. I think it was after “Joho” by Wakadinali — I think that’s the song that put me on the radar of many artists. We didn’t even meet. We just talked on the phone. Most artists get defensive when you ask them for a deposit. He [Benzema] actually sent the whole amount one time. He was really cool.

I worked at Sol Generation for a while after finishing ADMI. It was an attachment for like three months — that was the time corona struck. That’s where I met Watendawili. That’s [also] where I did “Ile Kitu.” I think that’s how the connection with Supersonic came up.

I’ve known Scar Mkadinali for a long time. When he was still on the come-up, we knew each other. My first ever official music video was for a producer called NG. It’s called “Feeling Myself.”

I can’t explain how I met these people. It just happened (laughs). It’s been a blessed journey.

And it’s still going on.

What kind of music do you like? I have a feeling you like all kinds of music.

Somehow, but I’ve come to accept I like hip-hop (laughs). Most times, I find myself listening to hip-hop and reggae.

I saw a video you did to Mankind’s ‘North’ as well.

Ah, I used to love rock! There was a phase [in 2012] when everyone was a goth. Why did rock die all of a sudden?

Kenyan rock?

Rock in general. Nobody listens to rock anymore.

Old rock songs are so much better.

Even international songs. They’re not like the ones from before.

But hip-hop is your favourite.

Old school.

What’s the biggest project you’ve worked on so far?

“Joho” and “Ile Kitu’. That’s when I was like, “This is actually something people will anticipate.”

Was “Ile Kitu” a 4.20 jam?

No (laughs). I think they planned for it to come out on 4.20, but the song isn’t about weed or anything. But that’s when I was like, “I should take this more seriously.”

The [project] that looks best to me is “Supersonic,” but the one that’s close to my heart is “Mbeteka” by Muki Rai. Before I met Muki for that video, I was writing my own story about this guy who’s a thief in Nairobi. Muki gave me two songs to listen to, and he told me he wanted one of them to be animated. I listened to “Mbeteka,” and I was like, “I’ve been thinking of this same idea!” It came together perfectly. The animation and visuals were not that great, but the way the lyrics and the video complement each other… I enjoyed it the most.

Why do you think there’s been a strong uptake of illustration by musicians?

There’s been a couple of animated music videos, like Just A Band…

And Wakimbizi.

Back in those days, they [animated music videos] weren’t that common. But nowadays… in Kenya, I think I was one of the first to start doing animated music videos. I think a lot of artists noticed something, and there were also badass illustrators coming up with album covers. Something happened, and I think I came in at the right time.

What do you think the reasons are?

I suspect when COVID came, it became harder to shoot a music video. So artists were doing animations for their songs “in the meantime.” Animations had been there before, but I think COVID helped accelerate the trend.

And people started to appreciate that animation is not just for kids. You can tell a grown-up story. I think people should start thinking outside the box because when most people come to me, they want me to make them animated. Animation isn’t bound to just you. Make it bigger. That’s the whole point of not doing a [live action] video: do something you can’t do with a camera.

Some of your animations have mature content, whether it’s drugs, alcohol, sex, or gun violence. Have you ever gotten any kind of reaction for portraying these things?

No.

Have you ever gotten any kind of comment?

I don’t read the comments on videos. I read them once, and I said I would never do that again. Some people out there will crush your heart! Those negative ones are the ones that stick with you. I’ve never forgotten a comment on “Shash Na MaShuksha” until now. That was like three years ago.

Can I ask which comment it is?

Someone wrote, ‘What garbage is this?’ (laughs)

In regards to the animation, or just everything?

Everything, I guess. I’ll move on, but it’s hard to forget that. As long as there are people who appreciate [your work]. The purpose of art is to make you feel something. If it made you feel something, I did my work. Even if it made you feel angry, you felt something.

We’re all adults. I think some of them [the videos] should have age restrictions, though. A kid can look at it and think it’s a cartoon.

I think I’ll start putting restrictions. Is it wrong?

It’s the reality of things. These are things that happen. If that’s what happens in real life –

Why shouldn’t I show it? There’s no point hiding some things and showing others. You’re not telling a story.

I don’t think I would care if someone came up with those negative comments. I can do a cartoon for kids. I can do a cartoon for adults.

What challenges, if any, have you faced?

Money is a challenge every artist faces. But the main one past that is dealing with clients’ mentalities. Most people don’t appreciate the work that goes into an animation. They think you do it in a week, and it’s done. When I try to explain to someone that I can’t do it in that amount of time, most people think I’m lazy. But if I could, I would be taking commissions every two weeks. Get that money.

Another challenge is hardware. I’ve been working with the same computer for years, and getting the right equipment is expensive. And that’s what takes you to the next step in terms of the look, feel, and motion. I would also say putting in the time is kinda hard. I can stay a whole two months without a commission. I can’t just draw my own things for two months without any income. So I have to take some time off and focus on other business. By the time I come back, it’s like I’m a step behind.

But I’m happy with the challenges as well. When I conquer one, another one always comes up, so they’ll always be there. That’s what brings growth.

There’s another thing: there are people who refuse to pay up. There’s this one artist — I did a whole video for him. I usually take half the deposit first and the other half when the video is done. When it came to the last [payment], the dude ghosted. And it’s a big artist — he has the money, but he just refused to pay up.

Did he ever pay you in the end?

Nope.

And how long has it been?

Maybe a year and a few months. It made me wiser, though. So, nowadays, I have my own contingencies.

Who or what inspires you?

In my work, the animator who really touches me is Hiyao Miyazaki. He does really good stories — very minimal voice-overs. The animation tells the story. Also, Genndy Tartakovsky — he did Samurai Jack. Do you remember Samurai Jack? It did not have voices. It was just Jack alone in some snow… but you’re seeing the emotion. That’s the kind of thing I’d like to do.

In life, I’d have to say my sister is my biggest inspiration. When we were kids, she always used to say she’ll be a lawyer. Imagine a 12-year-old girl watching Law & Order. She would force us to watch Law & Order (laughs). And she did it — she became a lawyer. She’s living her best life right now. That’s what I would wish for every kid: knowing what your purpose is. I think I also know mine, and following it has never disappointed. There’s been ups and downs, but it’s never been a disappointment.

Where do you see yourself in the future?

I don’t know about fifty or forty years [from now], but the biggest goal I have right now is to produce an animated series or a movie. Obviously, I want an animation studio, but the purpose of it would be to make something that touches the everyday people, something that shapes the animation industry. I want people to see [animation] as a medium of telling a story. It doesn’t have to be a comedy — it can even be a horror cartoon. Just to show people something different.

There’s an animated series you’re working on as a personal project. What’s it about?

Ni stori ya mtaani. I won’t tell you every detail, but it’s about a rapper on the come-up — that journey from obscurity to stardom and the challenges he faces in the music industry and in life. It was a short one: eight episodes, but with potential for more. We had even written some episodes for season 2.

Who’s ‘we’?

I used to do it with NG. Writing and coming up with the story is the best part of the process (laughs). You can come up with some crazy ideas. But we were like, how would we market this? Do we go to a TV station or post it on YouTube? We were stuck.

There’s a second one I did by myself with a little help from a friend of mine. We did voice recording, I started the animations… I’m still thinking about it. It’s not like it’s been buried.

Who would you like to work with that you haven’t worked with yet?

I’d love to do a music video for Trio Mio. His voice and his whole flow sounds perfect for animation. Maybe even Sauti Sol. I’ve wanted to work with them for the longest. There’s a song of theirs called ‘Sober’ — I have the whole idea in my head of how I would do that [video]. Internationally, I’d love to work with Burna Boy. I love his songs. They have a lot of emotion.

In Kenya, I’d love to work with Bey-T. I’ve never worked with a female artist, except Xenia. I’d love to work with a female artist and get that female perspective.

See more of Doomsda7’s work on Instagram.

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