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A certain raw force was unleashed among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that tension of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their stripes. Creatives across the country, in constant conversation with one another, developed works that evoked their cultural practices but in a current context. 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 reimagining the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that gathered in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its historical ways, but modified to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced common experiences.

Deities, forefather spirits, rituals, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, representations and vistas, but executed in a distinctive light, with a palette that was completely distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

Worldwide Influences

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in contact with the currents 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 reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism manifested 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 show a nation bubbling 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Significance

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 notorious 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 focus on 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 lived 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 intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised 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 Insights

Regarding Musical Innovation

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 imitating anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something innovative out of history.

I came of age 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 powerful, elevating 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 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 influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Written Impact

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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it articulated 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 mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in vibrant costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 soundtrack and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically outspoken and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Modern 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 coming home. Her focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence 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 explore identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the skills to blend 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 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 substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a community that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition 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 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 exploration within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most important in my work, managing the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a space where these effects and viewpoints melt together.