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A certain fundamental vitality was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that paradox of contemporary life and tradition, were creators in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern 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 concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence 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 reconnect its ancient ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a fresh artistic expression, both brooding and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced common experiences.

Spirits, traditional entities, ceremonies, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but executed in a special light, with a visual language that was utterly distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

Global Influences

It is essential to highlight that these were not artists working in seclusion. They were in touch with the movements 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 retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian modernism 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Significance

Two notable contemporary events confirm this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the ancient city 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 focus on Nigeria's role to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the potential 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.

Practitioner Insights

About Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not imitating anyone, but producing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new out of history.

I came of age 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 compelling, 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 significant 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 influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary Impact

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 divided my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal 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 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.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in dynamic costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Current 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 finding belonging. Her concentration on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were adequate, 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 examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the language 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 largely ignored 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 diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, 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 encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is grounded in culture.

For me, poetry has been the main 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 common concerns 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 dual nature of my heritage informs what I find most pressing in my work, navigating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these impacts and outlooks melt together.