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A certain fundamental force was set free among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were poised for a fresh chapter in which they would shape the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that paradox of modernity and custom, were artists in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, created works that evoked their cultural practices but in a modern context. 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 dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it incorporated everyday life.

Spirits, forefather spirits, practices, masquerades featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and vistas, but executed in a unique light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the European art heritage.

Global Connections

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a reclaiming, a retrieval, of what cubism took 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 foundational 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 cultural tensions. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the opposite 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 much-awaited opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial 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 spotlight Nigeria's contribution to the broader 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 crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the possibilities 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 contemporary times, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Viewpoints

On Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but producing a fresh approach. 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, 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 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 tell the story of a nation.

Written 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational 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 looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in dynamic costumes, and challenged authority. 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 musical backdrop and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important 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 coming home. Her focus 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 boldly personal.

I make figurative paintings that investigate 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 translating 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 combination 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 mostly overlooked 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.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a group that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, 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 exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage informs what I find most urgent in my work, managing the multiple aspects 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 space where these effects and perspectives melt together.