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A certain primal force was released among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a different era in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that paradox of contemporary life and tradition, were artists in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, produced works that referenced their cultural practices 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 distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence 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 rediscover its ancient ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both brooding and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced everyday life.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, ceremonies, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and vistas, but presented in a distinctive light, with a palette that was totally different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

International Exchanges

It is important to highlight that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in dialogue with the trends 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 reclaiming, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 show a nation simmering with energy and societal conflicts. 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 eagerly expected 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 approaching 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 artists in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived 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 influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued 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.

Practitioner Perspectives

About Musical Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not copying anyone, but creating 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 repeated visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was impactful, uplifting and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of specially produced work: colored glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Written Influence

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has impacted 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 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 ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in colorful costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent 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 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 unapologetically personal.

I make figurative paintings that examine identity, memory and family, often drawing on 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 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 generally neglected 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 Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a committed attitude and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our ambition 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 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 pressing in my work, managing the multiple aspects 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 effects and viewpoints melt together.