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A certain raw energy was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a different era in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and heritage, were artists in all their varieties. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that recalled their traditions but in a current 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 remaking the dream of art in a thoroughly 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 reconnect its historical ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it referenced everyday life.

Ancestral beings, ancestral presences, ceremonies, masquerades featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and landscapes, but executed in a unique light, with a palette that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

Global Connections

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists creating in seclusion. They were in contact 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 reclaiming, a recovery, of what cubism appropriated 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 influential Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that show a nation bubbling 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Impact

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most significant 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 approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a vital 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 molded the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Insights

About Artistic Originality

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 innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something new out of history.

I came of age 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 impactful, 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 recently created work: colored glass, engravings, large-scale works. It was a formative 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 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 foundational moment for me – it articulated a history that had influenced my life but was never spoken about.

I grew up in Newcastle in the 70s and 80s, and there was no familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule 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 without a shirt, in dynamic costumes, and challenged authority. 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 musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Modern 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 finding belonging. Her focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make human form works 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 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 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 mostly overlooked them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown significantly. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a group that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our aspiration is grounded 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 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 duality of my heritage informs what I find most urgent in my work, navigating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different urgencies and interests into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these effects and viewpoints melt together.