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Some raw vitality was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that paradox of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in constant exchange with one another, produced works that evoked their traditions but in a current context. 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 reimagining the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated common experiences.

Deities, traditional entities, ceremonies, masquerades featured centrally, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, portraits and scenes, but presented in a unique light, with a color scheme that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

International Connections

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in contact with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed 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 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.

Contemporary Influence

Two notable contemporary events bear this out. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the ancient city 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 highlight Nigeria's role to the wider 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 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 shaped the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the possibilities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged 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 Viewpoints

Regarding Artistic 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 completely unique, not copying anyone, but creating a new sound. 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 landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of specially produced work: colored glass, carvings, impressive creations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story 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 separated 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 influenced 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 ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, 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 blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Modern 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 coming home. Her focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings 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 tools to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the expression 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.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our aspiration 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 developmental 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 produce new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage informs what I find most urgent in my work, managing the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different priorities and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these effects and outlooks melt together.