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A certain raw energy was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a fresh chapter in which they would determine the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that paradox of modernity and heritage, were creators in all their stripes. Artists across the country, in constant exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern context. Figures 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 effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that assembled in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adapted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated common experiences.

Spirits, traditional entities, rituals, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and scenes, but executed in a special light, with a visual language that was completely distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is essential to emphasize that these were not artists producing in seclusion. They were in dialogue with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a reclaiming, a retrieval, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 show a nation fermenting 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Impact

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 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 approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's role to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives 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 influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities 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 modern era, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Viewpoints

On Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but developing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new out of history.

I came of age between Lagos and London, and used to pay frequent visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was compelling, uplifting and strongly linked 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 newly commissioned work: colored glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a influential 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 pivotal moment for me – it articulated 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 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.

Musical Social Commentary

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in dynamic costumes, and spoke truth to power. 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 blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Expressions

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 emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly 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 translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the skills to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the vocabulary I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began discovering Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education largely ignored 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.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a group that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our drive 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most important 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 urgencies and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and perspectives melt together.