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A certain fundamental vitality was set free among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were ready for a fresh chapter in which they would determine the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that tension of contemporary life and custom, were artists in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that evoked their traditions but in a modern 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 reimagining the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but modified to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both brooding and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated common experiences.

Spirits, forefather spirits, rituals, masquerades featured centrally, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, portraits and vistas, but presented in a distinctive light, with a visual language that was totally distinct from anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is important to stress that these were not artists creating in solitude. 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 reaction as such but a reclaiming, a retrieval, of what cubism took 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.

Modern Impact

Two notable contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the ancient city 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the visual and cultural life of these isles.

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

Practitioner Viewpoints

About Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not copying anyone, but developing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something fresh out of history.

I came of age 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 powerful, uplifting and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 recently created work: colored glass, carvings, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary Influence

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has influenced 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 divided 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 molded 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 sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved encountering 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 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 accompaniment and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically vocal and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Current Expressions

The artist who has motivated 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 focus 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 boldly personal.

I make representational art 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 transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the vocabulary 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 substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young diaspora artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a network that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our aspiration is grounded 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 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 influences what I find most pressing in my work, managing the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different urgencies and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these impacts and viewpoints melt together.