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A certain fundamental energy was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a different era in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that contradiction of contemporary life and heritage, were artists in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their traditions but in a modern 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 reinventing the concept of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its traditional ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it incorporated daily realities.

Spirits, traditional entities, practices, cultural performances featured centrally, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, portraits and scenes, but rendered in a unique light, with a palette that was totally different from anything in the European art heritage.

Global Connections

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists working in isolation. 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 taking back, a retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 portray a nation simmering 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 contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Significance

Two important contemporary events demonstrate this. The much-awaited 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 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 highlight Nigeria's role to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists 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, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Insights

About Musical Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not imitating anyone, but developing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative 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, inspiring and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: stained glass, engravings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written 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 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 influenced my life but was never spoken about.

I grew up in Newcastle in the 70s and 80s, and there was no access to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in colorful costumes, and spoke truth to power. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very cautious 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 vocal and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Modern Expressions

The artist who has inspired 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 concentration 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 confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings 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 transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that blending 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 generally neglected 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, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a strong work ethic and a community that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition is based 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 shared experiences while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage influences what I find most pressing in my work, negotiating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these effects and perspectives melt together.