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Some fundamental force was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were poised for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that double position, that tension of contemporary life and tradition, were creators in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in continuous dialogue with one another, created works that referenced their traditions but in a modern 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 reimagining the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but modified to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon everyday life.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of dancing figures, portraits and scenes, but presented in a unique light, with a color scheme that was completely different from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is essential to stress that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in dialogue with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Impact

Two important contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's role to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential 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 cultural life of these isles.

The legacy persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential 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 modern era, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Perspectives

About Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but creating a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something innovative out of history.

I was raised 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, 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 landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: art glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Written Impact

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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal 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 mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Political Expression

I loved discovering 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 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 soundtrack and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing 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 returning to roots. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

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

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a community that backs 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage shapes what I find most urgent 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 concerns and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these impacts and perspectives melt together.