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Some fundamental vitality was released among Nigerian artists in the years before independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a new future in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that paradox of modernity and heritage, were creators in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in ongoing exchange with one another, developed works that referenced their cultural practices but in a modern context. 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 influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but modified to modern times. It was a new art, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon daily realities.

Ancestral beings, ancestral presences, ceremonies, traditional displays featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of rhythmic shapes, likenesses and vistas, but executed in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Connections

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists producing in isolation. They were in contact with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a taking back, a recovery, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement manifested 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 portray 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Impact

Two important contemporary events bear this out. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most significant 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 upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's input to the wider 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 sojourned 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 visual and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential 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 contemporary times, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

On Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but developing a innovative style. 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 repeated visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was impactful, 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 landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of specially produced work: stained glass, sculptures, 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 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 separated 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 familiarity 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.

Artistic Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in vibrant 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern 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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty 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 explore identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with looking backwards – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating 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 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a group that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, 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 developmental 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 innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage informs what I find most important in my work, navigating 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 space where these effects and viewpoints melt together.