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Some fundamental force was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were poised for a new future in which they would shape the framework of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that paradox of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Artists across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, developed works that referenced their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 reimagining the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but modified to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon everyday life.

Spirits, ancestral presences, practices, masquerades featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, portraits and landscapes, but executed in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was completely different from anything in the European art heritage.

Global Connections

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in contact with the movements 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 recovery, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism 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 depict a nation bubbling 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 Influence

Two important contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the ancient city 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 approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's contribution 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 resided here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage endures 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 prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Perspectives

On Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but producing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something new out of history.

I was raised between Lagos and London, and used to pay regular visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was powerful, inspiring and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: art glass, carvings, monumental installations. 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 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 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 looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

I loved discovering 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 guarded of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently vocal and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current 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 finding belonging. 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 confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings that investigate identity, memory and family, often using 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 combine 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 mostly overlooked 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 international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our drive is rooted 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 formative in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes 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 dual nature of my heritage influences 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 intersecting experiences bring different concerns and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these impacts and viewpoints melt together.