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Some fundamental force was set free among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a fresh chapter in which they would determine the nature of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that tension of contemporary life and heritage, were creators in all their stripes. Artists across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, developed works that evoked their cultural practices but in a contemporary setting. 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 assembled in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it drew upon common experiences.

Ancestral beings, forefather spirits, rituals, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, portraits and vistas, but presented in a unique light, with a visual language that was completely distinct from anything in the Western artistic canon.

International Connections

It is essential to stress that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in contact with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism manifested 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 fermenting with energy and identity struggles. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Impact

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most significant event in African art since the infamous burning of African works of art by the British in that same city, in 1897.

The other is the approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The tradition persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Perspectives

About Artistic Innovation

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

I grew up between Lagos and London, and used to pay regular visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was powerful, 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 specially produced work: stained glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could narrate the history 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 expressed a history that had influenced my life but was never spoken about.

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

Musical Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in colorful 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 blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Contemporary Expressions

The artist who has influenced 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 representational art that investigate identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – 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 fusion became the expression 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 mostly overlooked them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown significantly. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a strong work ethic and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our ambition is rooted 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 developmental in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to shared experiences while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most urgent in my work, navigating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different concerns and interests into my poetry, which becomes a space where these influences and outlooks melt together.