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A certain fundamental energy was set free among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a different era in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that tension of contemporary life and custom, were artists in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, developed works that referenced their cultural practices but in a contemporary context. 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 remaking the dream of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its historical ways, but modified to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it referenced everyday life.

Spirits, ancestral presences, ceremonies, masquerades featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and vistas, but presented in a distinctive light, with a visual language that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in touch with the movements 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 recovery, 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 seminal Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that portray a nation bubbling 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 contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Significance

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 well-known 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 input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted 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 transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Perspectives

Regarding Musical Creativity

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

I was raised 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 impactful, inspiring 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: art glass, sculptures, monumental installations. It was a developmental 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 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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal 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 access 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 encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in colorful costumes, and spoke truth to power. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very guarded 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 rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern Manifestations

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 sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make human form works that explore identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to combine 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 finding Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education largely ignored 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.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a committed attitude and a group that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our drive is grounded in culture.

For me, poetry has been the primary bridge connecting me to Nigeria, especially as someone who doesn't speak Yoruba. Niyi Osundare's poetry has been formative 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 generate new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage informs what I find most important in my work, negotiating the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different priorities and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these impacts and outlooks melt together.