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A certain primal force was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were ready for a different era in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who best expressed that double position, that contradiction of contemporary life and custom, were artists in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, developed works that evoked their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 reimagining the vision of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adapted to the present day. It was a new art, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it incorporated daily realities.

Ancestral beings, ancestral presences, rituals, masquerades featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a special light, with a color scheme that was completely unlike anything in the western tradition.

Global Influences

It is important to stress that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in dialogue with the trends 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 reappropriation, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 portray 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.

Contemporary Significance

Two important contemporary events bear this out. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the traditional capital 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 focus on Nigeria's input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers 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, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued 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 Perspectives

About Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She blended 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 produces something innovative out of history.

I was raised 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 intimately tied 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: art glass, engravings, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary 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 foundational 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 access to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Musical Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in dynamic costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern Forms

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 returning to roots. Her concentration on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make human form works that explore identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with looking backwards – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and converting 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 generally neglected them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown significantly. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Artistic Legacy

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition is grounded 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 common concerns 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 important in my work, negotiating the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different priorities and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these impacts and outlooks melt together.