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A certain fundamental vitality was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was coming to a close and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that tension of contemporary life and heritage, were artists in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a contemporary framework. 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 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 displayed all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it referenced common experiences.

Deities, traditional entities, ceremonies, masquerades featured significantly, alongside common subjects of moving forms, portraits and landscapes, but presented in a distinctive light, with a palette that was completely distinct from anything in the western tradition.

International Exchanges

It is essential to highlight that these were not artists creating in seclusion. They were in contact with the trends 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 taking back, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 depict a nation fermenting with energy and societal conflicts. 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.

Modern Impact

Two important contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated 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 notorious 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 spotlight Nigeria's contribution to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a vital 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 molded the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental 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 Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but producing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative out of history.

I came of age 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 powerful, inspiring and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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: colored glass, engravings, impressive creations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could narrate the history 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 separated 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 shaped 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in vibrant costumes, and confronted establishment. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very careful 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 rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing 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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make representational art that examine 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 translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to fuse 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 finding 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.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a committed attitude and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our ambition 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 developmental in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage informs 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 concerns and interests into my poetry, which becomes a space where these impacts and outlooks melt together.