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Some fundamental force was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that paradox of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their stripes. Creatives across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, developed works that referenced their cultural practices but in a modern 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 reinventing the concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it incorporated common experiences.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, ceremonies, masquerades featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but executed in a distinctive light, with a visual language that was utterly distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is important to highlight that these were not artists creating in seclusion. They were in touch with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism appropriated 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 foundational 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 societal conflicts. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Impact

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important 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 contribution to the wider 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 sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Perspectives

On Musical Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. 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 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 impactful, elevating and deeply connected 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 recently created work: stained glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history 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 pivotal moment for me – it gave voice to 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 exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in colorful 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 inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly outspoken and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Current 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 finding belonging. 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 boldly personal.

I make representational art that examine identity, memory and family, often referencing my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the language 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 international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a network that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition 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 shared experiences while remaining firmly grounded 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 urgent in my work, negotiating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different concerns and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and viewpoints melt together.