Inside WPU’s gallery space, the concrete floors and walls are softened by soil, greenery, and plants. Two speakers fill the room with immersive sound, more than enough to let you fully experience the depth of the exhibition.

Multi-hyphenate artist eejebee has been journeying across the globe; not just in search of inspiration, but in deep reconnection with land, lineage, and sound. From Ghana to Morocco, Ethiopia to Tokyo, his work blends music, meditation, and memory, culminating in a multisensory experience, Sankofa Flora.

In our conversation with eejebee, he shares the roots of the project, the healing power of plants, and the vision behind sound that grows with you, and for you.

“My home is where my heart is,” eejebee says softly. As a nomadic artist, he has spent the past two and a half years traveling across Southeast Asia, Africa, and South America; collecting field recordings, exchanging with communities, and immersing himself in healing traditions. With Jamaican and Ghanaian roots, and a life shaped by London and America, eejebee carries a sound that’s as eclectic as his journey– and just as intentional. It was in Ghana, his ancestral homeland, where a shift began: time away from devices, surrounded by nature, and days of deep fasting and stillness created space for reflection and reconnection.

“We don’t think about how much noise pollution affects plants in the city. They’re stressed, just like us. So what if we gave them music that helps them grow? What if we gave ourselves the same?”

Sankofa, a Ghanaian word meaning “to go back, to go forward,” serves as the foundation for Sankofa Flora: a multisensory exhibition born during an artist residency in Morocco. The project invites a return to ancestral knowledge, food sovereignty, and plant wisdom, especially in a time where so much of this information is slipping away in the noise of modern, urban life. eejebee was moved by the realization that people are becoming increasingly disconnected from the natural world, and felt a need to create a space where this connection could be restored. Drawing from fieldwork and collaborations with ethnobotanists like Gary Martin, the exhibition brings together elements of collective planting, sound, and the idea of botanical memory. One moment that sparked a deeper curiosity came from learning that plants physically respond to sound– roots growing toward water sounds, sensing the frequencies around them. This idea led eejebee to reflect on how city life, filled with noise pollution, might be affecting the plants we keep in our homes and, by extension– us. With a background in drumming, production, and sound design, he began exploring how sound could not only be heard, but felt by both humans and plants. Over time, the concept evolved into something much more than an art installation. It became a healing practice, a quiet revolution, and a reminder that there is a symbiosis between us and the living world– one that can be nurtured through frequency, intention, and care.

This thinking birthed a new direction: creating compositions that serve both people and plants, especially in urban homes. “There’s a symbiosis between us, nature, and sound. And I want people to experience that.”

This is only the beginning. While Sankofa Flora marks a pivotal point in eejebee’s journey, the vision stretches far beyond gallery walls. A new album is on the way, along with a sonic project designed for the homes of urban dwellers and their plants—offering frequencies that nourish both. But more than just music, this work is about reimagining what it means to care. It’s a call to make farming feel sacred again, to see herbal knowledge not as alternative, but ancestral. To restore what was forgotten—not with urgency, but with love. eejebee speaks often of collaboration, of community, of collective joy, because the healing ahead of us isn’t something we can do alone. It takes soil, sound, stillness—and each other. In a world that’s constantly speeding up, Sankofa Flora reminds us that going back can also be an act of moving forward. That remembering is a kind of resistance. And that maybe the most radical thing we can do is slow down, plant something, and listen.