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Some raw force was set free among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and lively energy, were ready for a fresh chapter in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that paradox of contemporary life and custom, were creators in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a current setting. 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 vision of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that assembled in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its historical ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both brooding and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it referenced daily realities.

Ancestral beings, forefather spirits, ceremonies, traditional displays featured prominently, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, representations and landscapes, but presented in a unique light, with a palette that was utterly distinct from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Exchanges

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists working in solitude. 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 reclaiming, a retrieval, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed 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 cultural tensions. 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.

Current Influence

Two notable contemporary events confirm this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most significant event in African art since the infamous burning of African works of art by the British in that same city, in 1897.

The other is the forthcoming 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 crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities 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 renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Viewpoints

About Musical Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not copying anyone, but developing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new out of history.

I grew up 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, elevating and strongly linked 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 recently created work: stained glass, engravings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Written Influence

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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational 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 ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

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 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 accompaniment and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern 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 concentration on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

I make figurative paintings that explore identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating 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 combination became the vocabulary 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is grounded in culture.

For me, poetry has been the key 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 firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage influences what I find most urgent in my work, navigating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different urgencies and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and perspectives melt together.