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Some raw energy was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a different era in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that contradiction of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in constant conversation with one another, created works that referenced their cultural practices 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 vision of art in a thoroughly 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 significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but modified to the present day. It was a new art, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it referenced daily realities.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, ceremonies, cultural performances featured centrally, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but executed in a distinctive light, with a visual language that was utterly different from anything in the European art heritage.

Global Exchanges

It is essential to emphasize that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in contact 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 reclaiming, a recovery, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 depict a nation fermenting with energy and identity struggles. 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 Significance

Two important contemporary events demonstrate this. The much-awaited 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a vital 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, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities 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 modern era, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

About Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something new 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 compelling, elevating and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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, monumental installations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Significance

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 gave voice to 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for 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 accompaniment and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Contemporary Manifestations

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 concentration 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 unapologetically personal.

I make representational art that examine identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with looking backwards – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming 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 fusion became the expression 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 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 diaspora artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a strong work ethic and a community that backs 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 experimentation within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage influences what I find most pressing 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 space where these effects and perspectives melt together.