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A certain primal force was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that paradox of contemporary life and heritage, were artists in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing exchange with one another, created works that evoked their traditions but in a modern setting. 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 distinctly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a fresh artistic expression, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced everyday life.

Spirits, forefather spirits, ceremonies, masquerades featured centrally, alongside common subjects of moving forms, portraits and vistas, but presented in a special light, with a palette that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

International Connections

It is essential to stress that these were not artists creating in isolation. 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 reaction as such but a reclaiming, a recovery, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other field 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Influence

Two notable 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 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 highlight Nigeria's role to the broader 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 crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his large-scale 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

On Musical Originality

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

I came of age 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 powerful, elevating and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 specially produced work: colored glass, sculptures, monumental installations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary Influence

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has impacted 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 gave voice to a history that had shaped 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in colorful costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 accompaniment and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Contemporary 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 finding belonging. Her concentration 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 human form works that investigate 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 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 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 significantly. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a committed attitude and a network that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is rooted in culture.

For me, poetry has been the main 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 firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing in my work, navigating the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different urgencies and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a space where these impacts and outlooks melt together.