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Some fundamental energy was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years before independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were ready for a new future in which they would shape the context of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that tension of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their varieties. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that evoked their cultural practices but in a current 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 remaking the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon everyday life.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, ceremonies, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside common subjects of moving forms, representations and landscapes, but presented in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Connections

It is crucial to emphasize that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in dialogue with the trends 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 reappropriation, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's foundational Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that depict a nation simmering 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Influence

Two notable contemporary events bear this out. 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 upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's role to the larger 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 lived 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 molded the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his impressive 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.

Artist Perspectives

On Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but producing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new 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 impactful, uplifting 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 specially produced work: stained glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Influence

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 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Current Manifestations

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 certainty to know that my own experiences were sufficient, 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 converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to blend 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 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.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our aspiration is rooted 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 deeply rooted 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 duality of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing in my work, navigating the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different concerns and interests into my poetry, which becomes a space where these impacts and outlooks melt together.