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A certain fundamental force was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who best expressed that dual stance, that contradiction of contemporary life and heritage, were creators in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in continuous dialogue with one another, created works that referenced their traditions but in a current 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 concept of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both brooding and festive. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated everyday life.

Deities, forefather spirits, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, representations and landscapes, but rendered in a special light, with a color scheme that was totally different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Exchanges

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists producing in seclusion. They were in dialogue with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a taking back, a retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism expressed itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's seminal Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that show a nation bubbling with energy and cultural tensions. 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 notable contemporary events demonstrate this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the ancient city of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important event in African art since the well-known 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 contribution to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and cultural life of these isles.

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

Artist Insights

Regarding Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not imitating anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new out of history.

I grew up 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 compelling, inspiring and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: colored glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary Impact

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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal moment for me – it articulated a history that had molded 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 pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in vibrant costumes, and confronted establishment. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very guarded 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 inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Contemporary Forms

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 returning to roots. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings that explore identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 combine these experiences with my British identity, and that blending 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a strong work ethic and a network that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is rooted in culture.

For me, poetry has been the key 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 universal themes while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most important in my work, navigating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different urgencies and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and outlooks melt together.