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Some primal energy was unleashed among Nigerian practitioners in the years before independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the citizens of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and lively energy, were ready for a new future in which they would shape the framework of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 remaking the vision of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a new art, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it referenced daily realities.

Deities, forefather spirits, practices, cultural performances featured centrally, alongside popular subjects of rhythmic shapes, portraits and vistas, but executed in a unique light, with a palette that was completely unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Exchanges

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists working in isolation. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a taking back, a reappropriation, 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 foundational Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that depict 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 contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Influence

Two notable contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the ancient city of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important 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 approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's role to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities 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 modern era, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

About Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something fresh out of history.

I was raised between Lagos and London, and used to pay frequent visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was powerful, inspiring and deeply connected 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 specially produced work: colored glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could narrate the history 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal moment for me – it gave voice to 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 Political Expression

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in dynamic costumes, and challenged authority. 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment 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.

Contemporary Expressions

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 finding belonging. Her concentration on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make human form works that examine 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 methods to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that blending 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a dedicated approach and a group that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our ambition is rooted 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining deeply rooted 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 urgent in my work, navigating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these influences and perspectives melt together.