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A certain raw force was released among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a fresh chapter in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that contradiction of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their varieties. Practitioners across the country, in continuous dialogue with one another, developed works that referenced their traditions but in a contemporary framework. Figures such as Yusuf Grillo in the north, Bruce Onobrakpeya from the midwest, Ben Enwonwu from the east and Twins Seven Seven from the west were reinventing the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its historical ways, but modified to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated everyday life.

Deities, forefather spirits, ceremonies, masquerades featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, portraits and landscapes, but presented in a special light, with a visual language that was utterly unlike anything in the European art heritage.

Global Exchanges

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists working in seclusion. They were in touch with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's foundational Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that portray a nation bubbling with energy and societal conflicts. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Influence

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the ancient city of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial event in African art since the notorious burning of African works of art by the British in that same city, in 1897.

The other is the upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Perspectives

About Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but producing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative out of history.

I came of age between Lagos and London, and used to pay repeated visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was impactful, inspiring and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: art glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Significance

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has affected me the most, it would be Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. It is about the Nigerian civil war in the 60s, which separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it articulated a history that had shaped my life but was never spoken about.

I grew up in Newcastle in the 70s and 80s, and there was no exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in vibrant costumes, and challenged authority. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very careful of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Current Manifestations

The artist who has inspired me most is Njideka Akunyili Crosby. I saw her work for the first time at the Venice Biennale in 2013, and it felt like finding belonging. Her concentration on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

I make figurative paintings that examine identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with looking backwards – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the language I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began encountering Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education largely ignored them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a group that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our aspiration is based in culture.

For me, poetry has been the main bridge connecting me to Nigeria, especially as someone who doesn't speak Yoruba. Niyi Osundare's poetry has been influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage informs what I find most pressing in my work, navigating the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different priorities and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and outlooks melt together.