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Some primal energy was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that tension of contemporary life and tradition, were creators in all their stripes. Creatives across the country, in constant conversation with one another, created works that referenced their cultural practices but in a modern framework. 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 reinventing the dream of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that alluded to the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon common experiences.

Deities, ancestral presences, practices, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and vistas, but rendered in a unique light, with a color scheme that was completely distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Connections

It is important to stress that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in touch 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 recovery, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism expressed itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's influential Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that depict 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Impact

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial 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 spotlight Nigeria's contribution to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended 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.

Artist Viewpoints

On Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not copying anyone, but producing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative 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, uplifting and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact 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, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Written 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal moment for me – it gave voice to 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 looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

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

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

I make representational art that explore identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 language 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 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 international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a committed attitude and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our drive is rooted 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage informs 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 overlapping experiences bring different priorities and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these influences and outlooks melt together.