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Some primal force was unleashed among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were poised for a new future in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that paradox of contemporary life and heritage, were artists in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, developed works that evoked their traditions but in a current context. Artists 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 remaking the vision of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that gathered in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but modified to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated everyday life.

Ancestral beings, forefather spirits, practices, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside common subjects of moving forms, likenesses and landscapes, but executed in a unique light, with a visual language that was totally unlike anything in the western tradition.

Global Exchanges

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists producing in isolation. They were in contact with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 depict a nation bubbling 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Significance

Two significant contemporary events bear this out. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's role to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided 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 intellectual life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Viewpoints

About Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but producing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something fresh out of history.

I grew up between Lagos and London, and used to pay frequent visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was compelling, uplifting and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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: colored glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written 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 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 influenced 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 looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Political Expression

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in dynamic costumes, and spoke truth to power. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very cautious 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 confidently vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Modern Manifestations

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 coming home. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make human form works that investigate identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a group that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our aspiration 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 developmental 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 exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most urgent in my work, negotiating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different urgencies and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these effects and perspectives melt together.