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A certain raw force was released among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were poised for a different era in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, created works that referenced their cultural practices but in a contemporary framework. 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 thoroughly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but modified to contemporary life. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated everyday life.

Deities, forefather spirits, ceremonies, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside frequent subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and vistas, but rendered in a unique light, with a visual language that was totally unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

International Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists creating in seclusion. 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 retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other field 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 depict a nation fermenting 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Influence

Two important contemporary events demonstrate 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 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 spotlight Nigeria's contribution to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived 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 shaped the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended 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 Viewpoints

About Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended 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 makes something fresh out of history.

I was raised 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 powerful, elevating and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact 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 specially produced work: art glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Written Significance

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 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 influenced 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 sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in colorful costumes, and challenged authority. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very cautious 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 boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Forms

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 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 confidently personal.

I make human form works that explore 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 fuse 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 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young diaspora artists finding their voices.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a committed attitude and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is based 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 influential 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 exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage influences what I find most pressing in my work, managing the various facets 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 realm where these impacts and perspectives melt together.