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A certain primal vitality was set free among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that paradox of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their forms. Artists across the country, in continuous dialogue with one another, created works that evoked their cultural practices but in a modern framework. 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 dream of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but modified to contemporary life. It was a new art, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated everyday life.

Ancestral beings, forefather spirits, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and landscapes, but presented in a special light, with a palette that was completely distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Connections

It is essential 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 responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a taking back, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed 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 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 notable contemporary events demonstrate this. 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 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 role to the wider 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 sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential 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 the present day, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Insights

Regarding Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something new out of history.

I grew up 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 compelling, elevating 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 important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of specially produced work: art glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Influence

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 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 exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in vibrant 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 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 boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Current Expressions

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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make representational art that investigate identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – 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 language I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began finding 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a group that backs 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining firmly grounded 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 dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing in my work, negotiating the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and viewpoints melt together.