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A certain fundamental vitality was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years before independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were poised for a new future in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who best expressed that dual stance, that contradiction of contemporary life and heritage, were creators in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in constant exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern framework. 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 reinventing the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon everyday life.

Deities, traditional entities, ceremonies, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, portraits and landscapes, but presented in a special light, with a color scheme that was completely distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

Worldwide Influences

It is essential to emphasize that these were not artists creating in seclusion. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed 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 show 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.

Modern Influence

Two significant 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 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 focus on Nigeria's role to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential 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, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The tradition persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the opportunities 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 Perspectives

About Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative 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 powerful, elevating and intimately tied 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 newly commissioned work: colored glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Impact

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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic 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 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 soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Contemporary Forms

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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

I make representational art that examine 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 transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the language 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 mostly overlooked 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.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive 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 aspiration 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 formative in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage informs what I find most urgent 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.