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A certain raw vitality was released among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a new future in which they would shape the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that contradiction of modernity and heritage, were artists in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, developed works that referenced 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 reimagining the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that assembled in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its historical ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon everyday life.

Ancestral beings, forefather spirits, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of rhythmic shapes, portraits and landscapes, but presented in a special light, with a color scheme that was utterly distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Global Connections

It is essential to highlight 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 response as such but a retrieval, 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 seminal Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that show a nation simmering with energy and cultural tensions. 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.

Modern Significance

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important event in African art since the infamous 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 highlight Nigeria's contribution to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a essential 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, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Perspectives

About Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not imitating anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something fresh out of history.

I was raised 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 compelling, 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 significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of recently created work: stained glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary Impact

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 divided my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal moment for me – it expressed 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 exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

I loved finding 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 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 accompaniment and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern Manifestations

The artist who has inspired 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 emphasis 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 confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings that investigate identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 methods to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the vocabulary 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 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a inherent ambition, 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 key 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 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 create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage shapes 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 connected experiences bring different priorities and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and outlooks melt together.